by Alexis Daria
Except her feelings for him. She still wanted him. Still loved him. Still didn’t want him to leave her.
His magic fingers slid around to cup her head, gently massaging the back of her neck and releasing the tension she carried there. “I was stupid. I thought I had to go through it alone.”
“You don’t, Gabe. You only have to be alone if you want to.” Which was something she’d figured out for herself too.
“I know that now.” He traced his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “I worried I was going to be too late. That I’d fucked up too much. And then I got your collage.”
“When did you get it?”
“Yesterday. Right after I sent you the fanfic.”
She smiled. “You put your heart in an email, and I put mine in a cardboard tube.”
He nodded. “Thank you for waiting for me to figure my shit out. I’m sorry it took so long.”
She shrugged. “I had my own shit to figure out too.”
“There’s also something else I need your help with.”
“What’s that?”
“You made me realize a lot of things about myself and my business. Your concept was perfect—for what I’d originally intended the gym to be. But it got away from me. I wasn’t doing what I’d set out to do. Your presentation helped me decide to sell. No, wait, that’s not quite right. I decided to sell because I finally realized my dad was right, and I couldn’t do it alone. But you helped me realize that it was the right choice for me.”
He pulled out his phone and showed her some property listings—in the Bronx.
She looked up at him in shock. “You’re going to stay?”
“Yeah. At least, most of the time. I still need to go back to California a few days each month to work with the clients who want to stay with me.”
Michelle threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.
He’d come back. He was staying. It was all she’d wanted.
“I started a business,” she murmured.
Gabe eased her back. “You did what?”
“The Agility project made me realize I was playing small on purpose, and only hurting myself. I’m going back to the work I love doing, but on my own terms.” She pulled up the website on her phone to show him. “I’m already booked for the next three months.”
“Damn, I was hoping I could hire you to help me get a PT clinic off the ground. Now I’m not even sure I can afford you.”
“Maybe I’ll give you a friends and family discount this time. If you’re good. How do you feel about charcoal gray and light wood for a color scheme?”
He nuzzled her neck, and she found the courage to bring up something that had been on her mind.
“What if . . . you stay with me?”
He raised his head and narrowed his eyes at her. “Here in your parents’ house?”
She laughed. “No, not this time. I was thinking this before, when I thought you were going to have the gym here. Maybe when you’re in town, you stay in my apartment with me. And since I work from home, maybe I can sometimes go to California with you and stay at your apartment. We could try a sort of bicoastal part-time living situation thing. It’s unconventional, but I think it could work for us. At the very least, we’ll rack up a ton of frequent-flyer miles while we give it a try.”
Gabe grinned at her, and she brushed her fingertip over one of his dimples. “I think an unconventional situation thing sounds perfect for us.”
He leaned in to kiss her again, but she froze at the sound of a creak. Jumping to her feet, Michelle threw the door open.
And saw both of her parents, Monica, Ava, her oldest niece, and Gabe’s mother, all crowded in the hallway with guilty looks on their faces.
“I told you not to step on the creaky floorboard,” Monica scolded Phoebe, her daughter.
“Did he fix it?” Norma asked in a stage whisper. “¿Con el fanfeek?”
Valentina looked scandalized. “¿Qué es un fanfeek?”
She said it like it was some kind of filthy sex act.
“It’s called fanfiction, Grandma,” Phoebe corrected with an eye roll. She was eleven and absolutely lived for telling adults when they were wrong about things. Michelle adored the little brat.
“Yes, he fixed it,” Michelle informed them. “Now go downstairs. All of you.”
She waited until they headed down the stairs before she closed the door and turned back to Gabe.
He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands. His shoulders shook, and when she went over he dropped his hands and roared with laughter. She sat beside him and held him while he laughed. The sound—clear and loud, not holding anything back—reset something inside her.
He was really back this time. Gabe. Her Gabe. She hugged him tight.
As his chuckles abated, he shifted her onto his lap and held her, pressing his face into her neck.
“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. “All of it.”
She understood what he meant. He’d missed her, holding her, but he’d also missed being here, being part of a big, messy, meddling family. A family who cared. Maybe they showed it in ways that weren’t always clear, or that could feel overbearing, but it was out of love.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He lifted his head and kissed her softly. “I’ve always loved you.”
She smiled. “I know.”
Epilogue
One year later
Gabe stood in front of the Aguilar Clinic on Williamsbridge Road, just a block down from where his father’s stationery store had once lived. This street held a plethora of memories, but they weren’t bad ones, and now, he was here to make new ones.
Beside him, Michelle held his hand and stared up at the sign she’d designed. Gazing at it, Gabe felt more satisfaction than he would have previously thought possible. It was his name, his full name, not a bastardization to appeal to a so-called wider clientele.
Not only that, it was his father’s name. The Aguilars were back, and they’d come a long way from where they’d been.
Gabe’s mother greeted the friends, family, and neighbors who’d shown up for the launch party. Salsa music played all around them, courtesy of Michelle’s cousin, the DJ. An all-girl mariachi band was on standby to perform in about half an hour, followed by a pop-up performance by a Bronx theater troupe. They’d adapted Michelle’s “range of motion” idea that Gabe had loved so much, and there was a lot of anticipation for the event. Trung was taking part, and Charisse and some of the other former Agility employees had flown out to show their support.
Esteban, in his role as manager of the clinic, passed around pamphlets with information about the hours and services, also designed and written by Michelle.
In the center of it all was Ashton Suarez, the famous telenovela star—and Jasmine’s fiancé—who’d signed on as celebrity spokesperson for the clinic. After Gabe had worked on Ashton’s father’s back during a family gathering, Ashton had offered to help promote the clinic. They’d settled on a nominal fee—Ashton wouldn’t accept any higher, and Gabe wouldn’t let him do it for free. Ashton had done some background research on physical therapy so he could talk to regular people about it in both Spanish and English.
Because that’s who this clinic was for. Regular people—not celebrities—who were in pain and needed help improving their mobility. That had always been Gabe’s goal. And while he’d veered away from it for a while, with the help of Michelle’s brilliant mind, he’d gotten back on track. Besides, his detour had given him the funds and the experience to open this place. He got his license to practice in New York City, hired local therapists and PTs, and put his father in charge of it all. With Esteban overseeing the management of the clinic, Gabe felt comfortable keeping his clients in Los Angeles. He flew out for about a week every month to see them, and his hourly one-on-one fee more than paid for the costs.
The rest of the time, he lived with Michelle in her apartment. He’d worried it would feel cramped�
��the two of them in such a small space—or that they’d get annoyed with each other. But they didn’t. Like everything else between them, creating a new life together had been easy too.
Gabe knew this was because Michelle had chosen to forgive him for “being an absolute bonehead,” as she’d put it. In return, Gabe made a concerted effort to open up and talk to her about what he was thinking and feeling. And when small conflicts inevitably arose, they found ways to talk it out that usually ended in laughter and great sex.
As it turned out, neither of them needed to be alone.
Michelle’s business was taking off too. Sometimes she went with Gabe to California to meet with her own clients, like Rocky Lim, who’d become a close friend of theirs. Sometimes she stayed in New York to work from home, or to spend time with her parents and nieces and nephews.
They both owned their own businesses, and were masters of their own fates. And now, those fates were intertwined.
“You did it,” Michelle said, squeezing his hand.
“We did it.” Gabe leaned down to kiss her. “Couldn’t have done this without you, babe. Any of it.”
The clinic, yes, but also coming back here. Reuniting with his family. Returning to his core values, as she called them.
Care. Connection. Community.
Gabe had always believed in the adage You can never go home again.
But now he knew that wasn’t true. Home was whatever, wherever, and whomever he wanted it to be. Home was in Los Angeles, with Fabian and his beautiful family. Home was in the Bronx, with his parents, the Amatos, and now, the clinic.
Most of all, home was wherever Michelle was. And right now she was here, holding his hand.
Gabe raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers.
He was home.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading A Lot Like Adiós and spending time with Gabe, Michelle, and their families. I was born and raised in the Bronx, and it has been my pleasure to bring a piece of that experience to you.
As I write this, there is still a lot going on in the world. I hope this message finds you happy and healthy, and that this story brought you a little bit of joy, made you smile or laugh, or at least gave you a few moments of respite from your troubles.
As always, I must thank my agent, Sarah E. Younger. There aren’t enough words to describe how grateful I am to have her in my corner. (Which is why I send her fanart of The Mummy to show my appreciation.)
I also give tremendous thanks for my editor, Elle Keck, who is always able to see the potential and possibility in whatever kind of draft I turn in. My characters and I have a true champion in Elle.
Additional thanks go to Kristin Dwyer, publicist extraordinaire, who somehow manages to keep me organized and calm during a book release. (Not an easy feat!)
To the amazing team at Avon and HarperCollins—my awesome publicist Rhina, cover designer Elsie, the production team (Jessica, Diahann, Marie, Pamela, Rachel), Kaitie in marketing, and everyone else who contributed—thank you all for helping this book realize its full potential.
Once again, my cover artist, Bo Feng Lin, has created pure magic. These covers are a dream come true, and I am eternally grateful you agreed to illustrate them.
Writing a book isn’t easy. Writing a book during a pandemic was even less easy. But while I might have been isolated in my one-bedroom apartment with only my boyfriend for company, I never felt truly alone. I’m so grateful I was already doing regular video chats with writer friends, as what was once a weekly thing became a daily thing, allowing me to find writing company whenever I needed it.
With this in mind, I share my gratitude for my RWchat mastermind group (Robin, C.L., Kim), my early morning writing crew (Adriana, Nisha, Tracey), all the Rebelles on Rebelle Island and in the Slogging Thread (shout-out to Susannah Erwin for Los Angeles info), the other three of the 4 Chicas (Priscilla, Mia, Sabrina), my fellow NYC romance writers, the Heart Breathings Writing Sprints hosts, and the Better Faster Academy Zoom office. I’m also thankful for the Writers Room group text, semi-regular Beer & Knitting Zooms, and the Latinx Rom Retreat, as well as my own Primas of Power group text (Kathryn, Lisa, CarlyAnn, Tara, Stephanie, Laura—love you all!).
I also send my thanks to a team of people who provided emotional support as I worked on this book—Kate Brauning, Tonya R. Gonzalez, Becca Syme, and especially Lou, who has seen me through my whole publishing journey thus far.
I am especially grateful for the beta readers who read an early copy of Adiós, including Ana Coqui, Robin Lovett, Evi Kline, and Adriana Herrera.
I thank my childhood friends, Annalissa, who helped with Hola and shared my nostalgia, and Siobhan, for checking in on me. I also thank my dear friend Shanise, who provided details about Michelle’s career and videos of my beautiful goddaughter sending me kisses.
Mom, Dad, Claudia, Howard—I’m so lucky to have you all in my life.
And to Mike, who stays up late with me when I’m on deadline and says “You can do it!” at least a dozen times a day. Thank you for everything. ♥
Finally, I extend my gratitude to you, the reader. Thank you for picking up one of my books and giving it a chance. Being an author was my greatest dream (aside from “movie star”), and you have helped me make it a reality. I feel so lucky that I get to share these stories and characters with you. (Also, a special shout-out to my newsletter subscribers and the supportive readers and reviewers on Bookstagram! Thank you!)
Announcement
And don’t miss Jasmine and Ashton’s love story,
YOU HAD ME AT HOLA,
available now!
Leading Ladies do not end up on tabloid covers.
After a messy public breakup, soap opera darling Jasmine Lin Rodriguez finds her face splashed across the tabloids. When she returns to her hometown of New York City to film the starring role in a bilingual romantic comedy for the number one streaming service in the country, Jasmine figures her new “Leading Lady Plan” should be easy enough to follow—until a casting shake-up pairs her with telenovela hunk Ashton Suarez.
Leading Ladies don’t need a man to be happy.
After his last telenovela character was killed off, Ashton is worried his career is dead as well. Joining this new cast as a last-minute addition will give him the chance to show off his acting chops to American audiences and ping the radar of Hollywood casting agents. To make it work, he’ll need to generate smoking-hot on-screen chemistry with Jasmine. Easier said than done, especially when a disastrous first impression smothers the embers of whatever sexual heat they might have had.
Leading Ladies do not rebound with their new costars.
With their careers on the line, Jasmine and Ashton agree to rehearse in private. But rehearsal leads to kissing, and kissing leads to a behind-the-scenes romance worthy of a soap opera. While their on-screen performance improves, the media spotlight on Jasmine soon threatens to destroy her new image and expose Ashton’s most closely guarded secret.
An Excerpt from Take the Lead
And keep reading for an excerpt from Alexis Daria’s Take the Lead, the first book in her Dance Off series.
Available now!
TAKE THE LEAD
A DANCE OFF NOVEL
ALEXIS DARIA
Chapter One
Gina Morales clutched the edge of her seat in a white-knuckled grip and gave her producer a side-eyed glare as he and the camera crew sorted through equipment.
A seaplane. They’d stuffed her into an honest-to-god seaplane. The aircraft was painted bright yellow and blue with a tiny propeller stuck to the nose, cute little wings, and pontoons positioned underneath. It looked like a model toy, not something rational human beings who valued their lives should travel in.
Yet here she was, flying in a tin can over a large body of water somewhere in Alaska, while the motor droned on like a monstrous mosquito and the faint scent of fuel tinged the air.
Now she understood why her mother used the rosar
y in airplanes. It was to keep your hands busy so you didn’t chew off all your fingernails in nervous terror. Noted. Next time Gina found herself on a seaplane, she’d bring a rosary.
For now, she prayed to the gods of reality TV.
Please, please, let him be a winter Olympian.
A skier would be good, or a snowboarder, or better yet, a figure skater. Olympians were the holy grail of celebrity dance partners. If one of those awaited her when she landed, this whole harrowing journey would be worth it. After all, what other kind of celeb would be hanging out in the uncharted Alaskan wilderness?
When she finally dared to peek outside, she could admit the view was picturesque. A rippling ribbon of water unfurled below. Tall evergreens speared a brilliant blue sky crowded with thick, puffy white clouds. A gust of wind teased the treetops, making the seaplane bounce in the air.
Gina clenched her jaw and looked away. Even the pretty scenery didn’t distract from the bouncing. Where the hell were they going? And if they were meeting a skier or snowboarder, shouldn’t there be more snow?
A tap on her arm drew her attention from the window. Jordy, her producer, pointed at the cameras. His voice came through the headset she wore.
“All right, Gina. Ready to start?”
Taking a deep breath, she nodded and rolled her shoulders to relax them. Nerves notwithstanding, she had a job to do. When Jordy gave the go-ahead, she waved at the camera.
“I’m Gina Morales, a pro dancer. I’m on my way to meet my celebrity partner for season fourteen of The Dance Off.” She gave the intro in a loud, clear voice. Or so she thought. She couldn’t hear herself over the engine.
The crew exchanged glances. The sound guy looked up from a device in his hand and shook his head.
After adjusting the mic on her headset, Gina repeated the lines at a volume closer to a shout. When she received a thumbs-up, she continued.
