Enchanted By You

by Alexander, Hilaria

  “In a couple of months, when it’s layers and layers of fresh powder. And I’ll ask you to be my wife, even if it might sound crazy to make that kind of commitment so soon.” His eyes beam in a way I’ve never seen before and the fire in my chest burns with the intensity of my love for him. I can’t wait to make Esteban’s dreams come true.

  “It doesn’t sound too crazy. You’ve been waiting for me a while, after all.”

  His eyes widen in surprise and a bright smile splits his face in two.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” he teases.

  “Let’s go home, so I can show you exactly how I feel about you.”

  “That sounds like a fantastic plan,” he laughs, giving me a small peck on the lips, his eyes lit with sheer joy.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  I found my something old and something blue in an old jewelry box that belonged to my mother. It emerged only after I moved to New Mexico permanently. I remember seeing this necklace when I was younger, but I had forgotten all about it.

  It’s a silver Zia necklace. A necklace with the sun symbol of New Mexico paired with my most favorite turquoise stone, inherited from one of the people I love the most.

  Signs are everywhere. Ever since Henry Tyler stopped me and Lily on Venice Beach, I’ve altogether stopped trying to find a rational explanation for things.

  As I think of Henry, I look around to spot him, and I find him sitting at a table, having an intense conversation with Cyrus, while Lily is listening, fascinated.

  This might have not been my first wedding, but as I got ready to go to church for the ceremony, everything felt…different, sacred, like I was stepping into virgin territory. Brad’s family wasn’t religious, and we’d only gotten married with an ordained minister. In the end, it was for the best. Both Esteban and I were raised Catholic, and this allowed us to get married at San Felipe de Neri, the church in my favorite square.

  This morning, I opened the window of the hotel suite, and I glanced at the quaint square I had seen so many times before, surrounded by old adobe- and Spanish-style buildings lined with rows of chile ristras. This place had stolen my heart, and now it was going to be my home for good.

  It had been a hot, long summer day, but it was perfect from the beginning, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.

  My husband and I have been dancing for hours, and it’s making my sister-in-law impatient. We’ve been ignoring her requests to say goodbye to everyone for a good thirty minutes. Patsy Cline sings about the man who made her love him, and I lock eyes with Esteban, stifling a smile.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he whispers in my ear. He pulls back to look at me again, as if he hasn’t gotten his fill yet.

  “Many times. But don’t stop. Flattery will get you everywhere, especially tonight,” I whisper, and he arches a brow, making me smile. I’ve been smiling so much today that my cheeks hurt. And my heart has been beating so fast, it feels as if it could leap out of my chest. It’s been like this between the two of us the whole day. Today is the first day of a much happier part of my life. I can’t wait to be alone with him later, but I’m enjoying dancing with him too much to stop. When else am I going to get to do this?

  Esteban’s hand rests at my waist, his fingers running across the fabric. My dress is a simple, princess A-line with a deep enough V in the bodice to be sexy without being too much for church. The New Mexico necklace sits right at my collarbone, and I’m wearing a white gold bracelet borrowed from my sister-in-law.

  My groom is wearing the hell out of a cobalt blue tailored suit, but it’s his glorious smile that makes him look…simply breathtaking.

  The “Snowfall Cha-Cha” by George Shearing takes over for Patsy, and I’m living the final scene of my very own romantic comedy. I’m transported back to the weekend when Esteban asked me to marry him in the picture-perfect winter wonderland that is Taos during ski season. Even though I knew he had a proposal in the works, it wasn’t any less special. He still managed to surprise me, placing my ring in the middle of a modified Magic 8-Ball. I love that he appreciates my silly humor.

  “The band left over an hour ago, and the guests are only sticking around because you two haven’t left yet! It’s protocol. You have to be on your way!” Lupe insists.

  I lift my head from Esteban’s chest.

  “Our flight to Spain doesn’t leave until tomorrow,” I complain.

  “And this is my restaurant. Why should we leave?” Esteban asks.

  It made sense to have the party at Vida Dulce. It’s the perfect place for a small, intimate soiree like our wedding. We put a big sign outside that says Closed For Private Event. The painting I gave Esteban when the restaurant opened is hanging on the wall behind the host desk. It was the first of many. Since I came back to Albuquerque six months ago, I have been painting steadily. So much so that painting has become one of my side gigs.

  From time to time, I’m commissioned to paint murals around town.

  Esteban and Cyrus were the first to ask me for something vibrant and cool that would reflect the atmosphere and concept of the restaurant. The once white wall at the front of the building is now covered with a multitude of colors and Vida Dulce spelled out with a cool, retro font.

  Vida Dulce was voted “Best of Burque” this year by the readers of a local gazette, and Esteban and Cyrus couldn’t have been more excited.

  Tomorrow, we’ll fly to Spain for our honeymoon…and then we’ll visit my parents’ hometown. I have been going through my mother’s notes and address books and with a few searches on social media, I have been able to find some of her and my father’s relatives. I can’t wait to find out more about their life there. I’m so excited to get to do this with Esteban.

  Today was glorious. If only Lupe didn’t try her damndest to put an end to it.

  “You guys are impossible. People will feel they need to stick around if you don’t leave.”

  “Who put her in charge?” Esteban whispers in my ear playfully and I snicker. We did when she offered to help us with the wedding. Initially, we were thrilled to have her help us with everything we didn’t have time for or could think of…at least until now.

  Esteban’s breath tickles my ear, and I laugh. “I don’t know, but we will never ask for her services again, that’s for sure,” I joke, while Lupe shoots me a glare. Then she rolls her eyes and raises her hands up in the air, frustrated. She’s about to walk away, but Esteban grabs her hand and pulls her closer to us.

  “Lupe, thank you for everything. I mean it. But I don’t care what we are supposed to or not supposed to do. I’ll dance with my wife until dawn if that’s what she wants to do.”

  Warmth spreads in my chest as my husband and his sister lock eyes. Lupe smiles, nodding, her eyes filling with tears. She caresses her brother’s face and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Esteban’s sweet words echo in my ears, and I tear up as well. Damn him.

  Lupe and I look at each other wiping the smudged makeup under our eyes and end up laughing.

  “What did I say?” Esteban asks, looking dumbfounded.

  “I can’t believe he’s such a smart businessman, but then he’s as dumb as a sack of potatoes when it comes to other things,” she tells me. “You’ll explain it to him, won’t you?”

  “I will.” I let go of Esteban and wrap my arms around Lupe. “Thank you for today. Thank you for everything. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. If I don’t see you before you leave tomorrow, please be safe.”

  We both nod and she finally leaves us alone.

  Most of the guests are gone, including Esteban’s parents. There are only a few people still hanging out in the courtyard of the restaurant, the same place we had our first date.

  I look up at my groom with a dreamy look in my eyes.

  “What was that about? Why the tears? Both of you!”

  “This might be news to you, but everyone cries at weddings.”

  “What did I say?”

>   “You’re usually much more observant than this.”

  “Hmm, it might be because my senses are impaired. By you.”

  I sigh, and he looks at me with a quizzical expression.

  “You have no idea how charming you are, do you?”

  Esteban smiles uneasily, changing things up and twirling me around, making the A-line skirt of my dress spin along with me.

  “I guess I don’t. Why don't you tell me?” He pulls me closer.

  “You’re enchanting, Esteban Eduardo Gabriel Garcia. I believe that, prophecy or not, I was destined to fall in love with you. I’ve been enchanted by you since the very first time I saw you. You’ve been my knight in shining armor when I needed you. You’ve been my friend and my lover. You’ve championed me and reminded me what I was capable of. And best of all, you’ve given me your heart. That’s not even everything,” I say, pursing my lips. “I’m positive you’ll make a fantastic husband,” I declare, placing my hands on his strong chest. My cheeks redden thinking about what will happen shortly, and he stares at me, eyes full of love, wonder, lust, and a million other things. His adoration makes my heart race and ache to be with him as soon as possible.

  I press myself closer to him, and he kisses my forehead, and my lips next, chastely at first, and then his kiss deepens, stirring my desire for him.

  “I love you, Ines Sanchez-Garcia,” he whispers against my lips.

  “I love you too, Esteban. Let’s get started with that honeymoon.”

  Acknowledgments

  This story wouldn’t even exist if a friend hadn’t told me about a writing contest a few months ago, pushing me to create something that was short and sweet—something that wasn’t on my radar at all.

  Lauren Barrows, the first thank-you is for you. Thank you for your encouragement and for motivating me to give it a chance. I didn’t win the contest, but it gave me the opportunity to create a story I’m really fond of.

  Emily, for always being available to read all my bits and pieces, errors and all. I’m not sure if this story would have come to light without asking for it.

  Brittany Johnson, I hope I show you enough how amazing you are and how thankful I am for everything you do for me.

  My readers group, Hilaria Alexander’s Rockettes, thank you so much for your continued support and encouragement. You guys make me LOL on a daily basis. I hope I can keep giving you stories that help you dream with your eyes open.

  Thanks to my editor Amy with Alchemy and Words. I loved your enthusiasm and input for this story. Thanks to Judy with Judy’s Proofreading for your precision!

  I’m forever indebted to all the bloggers, readers, and authors out there who give me a chance and continue to support me. I know you have many, wonderful options, and I appreciate every little bit of love.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Would you like to stay in touch?

  Sign-up for my newsletter on www.hilariaalexander.com

  Bonus Content

  Would you like to read more? Here's the first chapter of The Art of Us!

  The Art of Us - Prologue

  LENA

  * * *

  “Why did you stop, Lena? Come on, let’s go home. I’m tired and we still have our whole room to pack. We’re never going to make it in time.”

  “Wait! I just had the best idea ever—I’m going to go back to the convenience store and go crazy and get everything we like. It’s our last night here in Tokyo, so we might as well enjoy it. Let’s stay up all night and watch the sun come up.”

  “You can’t see the sun come up from our place. Have you forgotten the huge building in front of our house?”

  She was right. We lived in an old-style house that was one of the few remains of a time far gone. I always wondered how long the little house had been there, being that the tall apartment buildings around it were much newer.

  Maggie gave me a pleading look and let out a huff.

  “Come on, let’s go!” she cried out impatiently.

  The sunrise…right. I thought about it for a second and came up with an idea.

  “We can go up to the pedestrian bridge and see the sun come up. Let’s not go to sleep. Let’s pack then stay up all night. Let’s make our last hours here count.” I bit my lip, realizing it was a silly excuse, because we had already been out partying all night with our friends.

  “We’re going to look like zombies tomorrow,” she complained.

  “Who cares! We’re going to be on a plane for hours. It will give us a good reason to put our Hello Kitty sleeping masks to use.” I winked at her and she huffed, shaking her head. “Come on,” I pleaded.

  “Whatever.” She sighed, her shoulders slumping with resignation.

  “Yeah?” I asked, looking for her approval, even though my mind was made up. I was going to stay up all night and soak in the last few hours in Tokyo. I wasn’t quite ready to get on a plane and go back to the US.

  Part of me didn’t want to leave this place. No, that was a lie—every part of me didn’t want to leave. Other than finishing up school, I had nothing to go back home for.

  I basically had no family. My mother and I weren’t close at all.

  It was different for Maggie. She had her whole family, and I knew her little brother had been impatient for her to come back. She had half a suitcase full of presents for him.

  No one would care whether I made it back home or not.

  Unfortunately, my visa was going to expire soon, and I had to go back to the US to finish my degree.

  I took a deep breath, anxiety threatening to take over my lungs. My chest felt heavy, and I knew I couldn’t help it.

  I didn’t want to go to sleep. I didn’t want to miss a single moment.

  The next morning—well, actually later that morning, seeing as it was already past midnight—we would be vacating the room of the Japanese-style house we’d rented for the greater part of a year. We’d have just enough time for a quick breakfast with our heavy luggage in tow, and then we would finally head to Narita airport.

  “Okay, so I’m going. I’ll get you the lemon sake you like so much. Want anything else?”

  “An onigiri with salmon. Oh! And maybe some of those chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.”

  “An onigiri and nuts, noted.”

  “And that cold green tea—the one with the light-green label.”

  “Gotcha. Anything else?”

  “No.” She shook her head, her expression suddenly somber for some reason, darker. “Hurry up, okay?”

  “I will.” I pressed the button to cross the intersection and waited for the green light to tell me I could go. It was a bit chilly for early April, but spring was unpredictable in Japan. A gust of wind blew across the street, carrying along a flurry of cherry blossoms.

  I was going to miss the sakura, the cherry trees that made spring in Japan so special. The trees looked so pretty when they were all in bloom, and when it was windy, the petals fell everywhere like a pink, delicate rain. The chirping sound of the crosswalk came on and I started crossing the street.

  I was halfway across when I heard Maggie calling out to me from the other side of the street. I glanced at the light. It was still green. I quickly turned around.

  “What’s up?”

  “Wait—I’m coming with you,” she said, making her way toward me.

  I glanced at the light again. It wasn’t flashing yet. “Hurry up.”

  I looked both ways on the deserted street and when I turned to my right, I was blinded by the lights of an oncoming car. I couldn’t see anything, but from the sound of it, I kept thinking it was going too fast.

  I should have gotten out of the way, but I couldn’t move.

  I heard tires screeching on the asphalt and the car swerved.

  A muffled scream and a thud.

  It took me a few seconds before I could see again, and when I did, I wanted to die.

  This cannot be happening.

  Not to her, not right now.

&nbs
p; The wind blew again, this time stronger. I couldn’t even see her, not with my impaired vision and the petals of the cherry flowers blowing everywhere. I was still frozen in place when the loud honk of another car brought me back to reality.

  Brightness again, too much of it. I closed my eyes, hoping to die.

  Brakes screeched, the car hit me, and everything went dark.

  The Art of Us - Chapter 1

  LENA

  * * *

  “Look at you this morning. Nice shirt. Well, at least you’re honest,” Violet said, pointing at my chest, which read: Hot Mess.

  “You know I’m not into false advertising,” I replied with a shrug, my lips scrunched up in a half-pout. She rolled her blue eyes, batted her thick eyelashes, and let out a sigh. Then, she walked me to my cubicle and started talking about the most recent developments on her upcoming nuptials to my best friend.

  I listened, paying as much attention as I could at nine on a Tuesday morning, but my mind went back to her playful joke.

  Hot mess.

  I owned what I was. I didn’t lie about it. I was one hundred percent conscious of the fact that I was indeed a hot mess. I embraced it. I didn’t quite revel in it, but I liked to think I accepted my fate and the fact that I was never going to be at peace with myself.

  On the outside, it looked like I had it all.

  I had somehow been blessed with good genes by Mother Nature, and I had more talent in my right hand than most did in their whole body.

  I laughed at my own thought, because it sounded like a dirty joke.

  “Something funny?” Violet asked.

  “Not really, just thought about a cat video I saw online last night.”

  “I didn’t know you were into cat videos—you, the snark queen.”

  “Even snark queens can have a secret fondness of kitties, but don’t let anyone know I said that,” I told her, cocking one eyebrow.