by Mara White
“I’d like that,” Salana said. She smiled at him kindly. His face broke out into a grin that felt inappropriate considering the circumstances.
“I’ll pay for the wall,” he told her.
“It’s okay. People punch walls. It happens. Maybe since you’re here you could get some stitches in your hand.” He was bleeding on the floor.
He looked down at his swollen knuckles, which were split and bleeding profusely despite the poor construction and cheap materials. He spread his fingers and flexed his hand, grimacing at the pain it caused him.
“I’m just finishing up,” she told him. “I’ll come find you.”
The woman who stitched him up told him to call her Annette. She was from the neighborhood and looked familiar even though he didn’t actually know her. They talked about the good old days and summer in the city, the Mr. Softee truck, tapped fire hydrants, and Dominican Icies. She asked no questions about his mangled hand, just washed it and blotted away the blood. She smiled at him sweetly and pointed to his tattooed street number.
“Not far from where I grew up. Back when summer was fun, right? In fact, we used to have a kiddie pool we dragged out to the stoop. My mother would stick her feet in it while we all splashed around.”
“Did you ever swim over at Highbridge Park pool?”
“Oh yeah, and my kids take their swimming lessons there now.”
“How many kids you got?” Tiago asked her earnestly.
“Two. Boy and a girl, but I’m done. How about you?”
“I’m single,” Tiago told her, his brow furrowing just a little bit.
“But you know Dr. Livingston?” Annette asked him. The slight curve of her lips made him feel like she was up to something.
“Salt? Yeah, I fucking know her.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be the same man she got caught in the freezer with, now would you?” Tiago covered his mouth with his good fist. The stitches hurt but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “I like that you call her Salt. That’s a good nickname.”
“I called her that since I was sixteen.” Tiago looked around the room wistfully. He didn’t want to cry again.
“Do you love her?” Annette practically whispered in his ear. She was pulling needle and thread through his skin but it didn’t compare to how her question pierced his heart.
“Who are you?” Tiago asked her. He looked genuinely perplexed.
“Just a friend. An admirer of the good doctor. If you love her, you should tell her. She hasn’t been the same since she came back from Afghanistan.”
“What about Dr. Spencer?”
“What about him? I heard he’s transferring. Anyhow, the Dr. Livingston I know, the one I’ve worked with going on five years, she doesn’t care much for titles, or diamonds, or fancy clothes. She’s more about helping people, especially disadvantaged women and children.”
“Be the salt of the earth and you will become the light of the world,” Tiago murmured back. He still missed his grandmother and now he had to deal with this. Because his mother died from her drug addiction, Santiago felt responsible. He was on the straight and narrow now, but his past made him feel like he’d helped kill her himself. The thought made him shudder.
“Last one,” Annette told him. She put some type of stinging antiseptic on top of the wound and then began to bandage his hand. “She used to talk a lot about this one guy. She’d say, ‘He’s got less than everyone else in my life, but somehow he manages to give me more. More than my parents, more than my friends. He’s always right there when I need him,’ she’d tell me.” Annette looked coy.
“She always gave to me too,” he told her. Then realized she’d lured him into telling the truth about who he was to Salt. Annette began wrapping tape around the gauze. “What am I? A mummy? I won’t even be able to use my hand,” he told her.
“You look like you’re rough. I don’t trust you not to use it so I’m doing what I can to protect it, okay? You’ll need to come back in to get the stitches out, once it’s healed. Say in five to seven days, but put iodine on the first few and then rinse it with saline so it doesn’t get infected. And stop punching walls.”
“Thank you,” he told her.
“I don’t think love at first sight ever lies. What about you?” Relentless, that’s what this lady was.
“She told you about the horse farm?” he asked her. The woman had him completely intrigued. Apparently she was Salana’s confidante.
“I think you’re gonna have to fight. But it’s all good. You don’t look like a quitter to me,” she said coyly as she swiped her garbage off the counter and stuck the needle into a sharps container. She pulled off her purple sterile gloves with a snap and tossed them in the wastebasket.
She patted him on the shoulder. “How tall are you, Tiago?”
“Six foot two,” he told her, scratching his head.
“And all that muscle.” She made a little purr in her throat. “Tell her how you feel and then fight like hell.”
Tiago’s heart pounded furiously; all of the action that was centered in his fist seemed to have drawn inward to his chest. He broke out in a sweat and stood, feeling like a determined warrior who was about to claim his princess. Annette had got him all worked up and she’d done it on purpose. His pulse raced and he felt greedy, like Salana belonged to him. He’d lost his beloved grandmother, and now unexpectedly his mother. He wasn’t going to lose Salana if there was anything he could do about it.
“Just a little bit of helpful advice from a friend who’s tired of seeing her mope around. Oh, and another thing Dr. Livingston likes? The woman loves herself an adventure and she goes crazy over a real challenge.”
Tiago stood and shook Annette’s hand with his good one. He pushed open the door and stalked down the hall, not giving a shit who was watching or judging him.
“Salt!” he called when he saw her conferring in a group of co-workers at the end of a hallway. She turned and when she saw him, her expression filled with panic but then slowly warmed and calmed as they made eye contact. She flushed pink and those patches he liked so much appeared on her chest.
He lifted a hand as if to lecture her while all of them stared. But instead he reached for his ear and pulled out one of the diamond studs Salana had given him. He got down on one knee in his jeans and sweatshirt, hair cornrowed back in braids, and one truly fucked-up hand.
“Don’t tell me to stop, Salt. Hear me out. ‘Cause I ain’t stopping. I loved you since I was sixteen years old and that’s never gonna go away.”
“Tiago, don’t. Not here,” she told him.
But for Tiago it had to be here and now because his love for Salana would only grow and intensify and slowly suffocate him if he kept it in. He wouldn’t stop until she was his—completely—legally. His entire life had been a series of tests, him trying to beat the odds. This was just one more test and he wouldn’t stop until he’d won. The test of a lifetime. His lifetime. His love.
Her father would be disgusted that he proposed this way, pressured her in front of others, did the deed with an earring that he’d given her for graduation. But there were certain things Tiago knew about the woman he cared for so deeply. She was skittish and sometimes insecure about herself, especially when it came to her love life. She acted like she didn’t deserve one or wasn’t worthy of attention and adoration. She was also resolute, stubborn, and single-minded in just about every aspect of her life. Fearless to the point of ignoring self-preservation. A powerhouse. A woman who would change the world.
A woman who had changed his world with every interaction, who made him strive for things he believed he didn’t deserve or wasn’t capable of. Tiago wanted Salana to be the best she could be, but he didn’t want to watch from the sidelines. He wanted to be right there holding her hand and lifting her up when she was too tired to stand.
“It’s not a ring, but I know where we can get one,” Tiago said with a quick wink.
Salana smiled.
Rings were forgetta
ble, but true love—that was indestructible.
“Dr. Livingston, the man is so fine and he’s obviously crazy about you,” Annette interjected as she casually walked by. “Take care of that hand, tiger,” she said to Tiago with a knowing smile.
Even though he’d planned none of it, Santiago felt as if this moment was occurring with perfect precision, because the universe always conspired to bring them together—as if their destiny were already written.
“I love you, Salt. Always have, always will. I think you and me were meant to be together. I think you know that too and it scares the fuck out of you. I get it. It scares me too, but it ain’t gonna scare me into silence. Put away all the obstacles—all the differences for just a second and tell me what your heart says.”
Salana put her face in her hands and moved away from the group. She reached him and placed her hand on his shoulder, pulled his head forward into her stomach and held him to her.
“Are you asking me to marry you, Santiago?” she whispered.
“I’m asking you to take this journey with me.”
SALANA
The man on his knees before her was the most decent man she’d ever known. Though he’d made his fair share of bad choices, Tiago wasn’t afraid to confront his past and he embraced change—he’d transformed more before her eyes than most people do in a lifetime. He still looked the same on the outside—bad tatts, hoodies, and low-slung jeans, flashy jewelry and hair, an ensemble that probably made some people cross the street. But on the inside, Tiago was introspective, caring, and loyal. He was her safe place in a world chock full of disappointment and turmoil. The same person who’d stood up for her and been her rock during her most vulnerable moments. There was no one else Salana would want by her side during the good and the bad. He was it for her too and he had been since she was sixteen.
She pulled him to his feet and he towered over her. Without ever breaking eye contact, he engulfed her in an enormous hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and inhaled the scent of his skin. Her parents wouldn’t be happy, but ultimately, her parents loved her and they could live with her decision. They would have to learn to love him like she did.
“I can’t think of a greater honor than walking beside you.”
Who knew that on that hot summer day on the horse ranch so many years ago, she’d meet the love of her life in the form of a smooth-talking, street-smart bad boy with a big heart and lonely arms that needed to be filled. And that her parents would bend over backwards to give her the best advantages money could buy, but from the moment she met him it was already too late. His heart mirrored hers. Fate was on their side. She couldn’t imagine spending her life with anyone else.
They made out in the elevator like hormonal teenagers, unable to keep their hands off of one another or curb their ridiculous smiles. Salana felt the overpowering joy of real freedom and true happiness flooding her system without inhibition for the first time in what seemed like forever.
“Don’t shut me out like that ever again,” Tiago insisted. He bit her earlobe and tasted her skin. Salana gave herself up to him readily, angling her neck to give him better access. She shivered, remembering what it felt like to be with him. Tiago’s mastery of her body still astounded her and the way she fell under his spell felt like hypnosis. “I got thick skin. I can handle whatever baggage, just don’t let go, Salt. Promise me you’ll always hang on to this—to us.”
“I promise. I’m sorry,” was all she could manage between assaults of his tongue. She dropped the keys when she tried to fit them in the lock. Tiago pushed her up against the wall in the hallway. His hands slid up under her scrubs, seeking the heat of her flesh. She trembled under his touch and heat blossomed between her legs, a blue flame begging for more fuel from him. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissed her with possession and greed.
“Were you with anyone else? Eric?” he asked her. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out laced with thunder, but his question sounded like a threat. If Eric had touched the woman he loved, Tiago would show him what hood really looked like.
“God, no. No one. You?” Salana’s hands were at his belt as if she intended to strip him in hallway.
“No, ‘cause you ruined me. Sex without love isn’t something that interests me.”
Her face broke into a victorious smile and Tiago cupped her sex roughly in his good palm. He squeezed and her smile morphed into an expression of longing.
“You went a whole year without sex?” she asked him, taken totally off guard.
“Yeah, and I intend to make up for it all right now with your hot little body.” He swooped down and grabbed the keys, expertly turning the lock with his left hand.
They tore each other’s clothes from their bodies, never breaking their kiss and nearly falling as they knocked down the hall. They upset a lamp and a framed picture crashed from the wall.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Tiago said into her mouth.
“I could give you a tour,” she suggested as he unhooked her bra.
“Of the bedroom,” Tiago said. “Your bed. Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”
He pushed his pelvis forward, pinning her to the wall so that his hardness pressed into her belly. She undid his jeans and wrapped her fingers around his straining erection. Tiago had to clench his jaw to keep from spilling into her hand. He grabbed her around the waist and hefted her onto his shoulder with one hand.
“I should shower. I just worked a twelve-hour shift,” Salana protested.
“After I’m done with my twelve-hour shift, I’ll wash you myself.” He tossed her on the bed and climbed out of his pants.
“You need a sling for your arm,” she told him, then followed suit and pulled off her pants along with her underwear.
“I need you to ride my cock ‘cause it might be difficult for me to be on top.” He sat back against her pillows and drank in the sight of her perfect body. Her shoulder scar called to him and he ran the pad of his thumb across the little divot that marred her milky skin. “How is it you just get more beautiful as the years go by?”
She crawled to him then, licked a path up his erection, dipped her tongue in his belly button, continued on along his upper abs and reached his defined pecs. She straddled him and rubbed herself, wet and swollen, up and down his hard length. Tiago raised both arms above his head, enjoying the view. Her sexual appetite thrilled him; Salana was always just as eager as he was to have him inside her.
She grabbed his shaft and slid herself down on him little by little until he filled her completely. She tipped her head back and arched while her muscles strained to accommodate him.
Tiago moved his hips slowly against her, his hands catching her flank and pulling her down toward him to create friction. He loved her sensuality, her abandonment of inhibition when he fucked her. He loved pulling orgasm after orgasm from her until they came in like timid aftershocks of gossamer or cotton candy. Until she was drunk on lust and swimming in dopamine, her eyes glazed and passive. He knew what love looked like. Memorized it. Treasured it.
Salty as fuck. And she was all his.
Epilogue
Salana was so excited that she squirmed in her seat. Tiago had shown her how to merge a call on her phone so she could have both Annette and Justine on while he was filming. Her parents could watch from home, she didn’t need them there with her. But she needed someone so she quickly dialed her girlfriends.
“Eeeek!” Annette squealed as soon as they connected.
“Can you see him?” Salana questioned even though there was a huge flat screen right in front of her.
“Commercial, but they announced him in the clip. I’m just excited.”
“Hold on, I’m pulling Justine in.”
“Girl, we’re all here watching. I made waffles and mimosas to celebrate!” Justine told her, but Salana’s attention had been yanked from the phone to the screen as the national morning news hosts appeared with Tiago alongside them.
He was dressed in a tailored black suit, red shirt, black silk tie. She’d helped him tie it this morning, but on the screen he absolutely took her breath away.
“We’re here with Santiago Alcázar, whose best-selling memoir, “Help Me, Help Us: Recovering from a parent’s drug addiction,” has earned him not only a spot on the New York Times bestseller list, but also a documentary in the works as well as a possible talk show. Mr. Alcázar, tell us a little bit about your incredible story.”
“Holy crap, your husband is smoking in a suit!” Justine hollered into speakerphone.
“Always knew that boy would turn out right. Good for him. Good for you, Salana,” Annette told her.
Salana got teary-eyed as the camera zoomed in on his face. He still wore the earrings she’d given him, plus the fancy watch which was last year’s Christmas present. Cufflinks from her mother and father; they’d eventually come around. He’d ditched the cornrows and now wore his hair neat and short. Sophisticated. When he looked into the camera her heart fluttered.
“My wife actually works with refugees and travels a lot. So I had some downtime while she was abroad and over Skype sessions we came up with the idea and slowly started blocking it out into twelve steps.”
“Is it a plan for success? Can anyone do it regardless of resources?”
“Well, that was especially important to us. Kids whose parents suffer from addiction are always at a disadvantage, so the book is full of resources and organizations that do help and care.”
“You should have gone out there with him,” Annette scolded her.
“As usual, all he can talk about is you anyway,” Justine teased from afar.
Salana looked down at her enormous belly. She didn’t want to waddle onto the screen in front of a million viewers. Sweat in her dress and possibly go into labor on live television. She was happy in the greenroom with the croissants and the large spread of cheese and fruit. All she wanted was coffee this early in the morning, but it was off limits, as was everything else she truly loved. Raw fish, soft cheese, wine and beer. Getting knocked up was fun, but waiting nine months with swollen everything was getting old quickly.
