by Alexis James
Charlotte laughs. “No need to expand on that. Your face says it all.”
I can feel the flush skating up my neck. “Yeah, well, let’s just say he knows what he’s doing and leave it at that.”
“I bet he does,” she chuckles.
Once the dinner dishes are cleared, we settle down on the couch to watch a movie. There’s a big bowl of buttery popcorn between us and one of our favorite romantic comedies lighting the screen, but all I can think about is the man who is trying so hard to keep a bit of distance between him and me.
I understand there are many, many reasons why the two of us shouldn’t work. He’s much older than me—fifteen years, I’ve learned. Sure, I should be concerned that my boyfriend is pushing forty, but when we’re together, those years dissolve and the only thing between us is skin. And doubts, apparently. He has every right to doubt me. I’m young, still in college and my life, for the most part, is unknown. His path is clearly defined. He’s lived his life, while I’m just beginning to live mine. I do appreciate that his father and Charlotte, for the most part, don’t seem to take issue with our age difference. I can’t say my family will feel the same.
Bella understands. Thank God. She’s the only one I’ve confided in fully about him now that Caleb and I have become this new item. Amita is the only one who has ever spoken directly to Caleb, and Jace knows bits and pieces, but we’ve mostly remained a secret. And really, it’s not fair. If I expect to be a part of his life, I need to ensure that he’s a part of mine as well. My family deserves to know about him. They deserve to really know him. Yes, they will have concerns, and I fully understand why. But I have to believe that my happiness trumps their worries. I have to trust them all enough to know that as long as I’m happy, that is all that matters.
My phone begins to ring, and I grin at the weird ESP thing my siblings and I have. Cruz’s name flashes across the screen, and after moving off down the hall to my bedroom, I swipe my finger across the screen. “Hey, big brother.”
“Hello, little one. How are you?”
We chat about Mia and the kids for a good ten minutes and as always, I grin when I hear the love and devotion rolling off his tongue. My once hostile and hard-ass brother is now one big pile of mush when it comes to his beautiful wife and children.
“The reason for my call was to let you know that Marco and I will be in town next week. We’d like to see you.”
My heart starts to pound furiously as this golden opportunity to share the truth with my family suddenly opens up before me. “That would be great! I’d love to see you both.” I nibble on my thumbnail, take a deep breath, and go for broke. “I want you meet my boyfriend while you’re here.”
“What boyfriend?” he snarls.
Chuckling, I marvel once again at the similarities between my oldest brother and the man I share a bed with on a semi-regular basis. “Yes, Cruz. I have a boyfriend. Don’t sound so shocked.” He grumbles a curse. “Calm down. I am a grown woman, you know.”
“Who is this man?”
Calm your tits. I roll my eyes at my overprotective brother. “His name is Caleb. And he makes me very happy. Not that you asked or anything.”
“I’m sorry, pequeńa,” he replies, falling back on his Spanish as he always does. “I am glad that you are happy. Truly, I am.”
Doubtful, I think as I flop down onto the mattress and lift my legs in the air. “I want you and Marco to meet him. He’s a good man, Cruz.”
He sighs. “I’m certain he must be, otherwise he wouldn’t be your boyfriend.”
“Very true.”
We talk for a few minutes more, making arrangements to go to dinner when they are in town. As I disconnect the call, I consider that it might be better to have the boys come here. That way, if there is hostility or fireworks, we won’t have to be subjected to it publically.
I mentally make a note to call Mama for some recipes then jump to my feet and head back into the living room, rejoining my friend on the couch. “I just told Cruz about Caleb.”
Her head snaps to the side, eyes wide. “Seriously? Did he freak out about his age?”
“I didn’t exactly go into detail.” At her raised eyebrow, I shrug. “I told him I have a boyfriend that I want him to meet when he and Marco are here next week.”
“So you think it’s a wise idea to spring your handsome professor on your brothers like that without warning? Don’t you think they’ll be pissed?”
“Who cares if they are, Char? I love Caleb, and my family is just going to have to accept that.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she mutters, her attention back on the screen.
My stomach jolts uneasily when I think about my very overprotective brothers walking into a room and seeing Caleb by my side. He’s as intimidating as they are, and roughly the same age as Cruz, but that won’t change the fact that they will forever see me as the baby of the family. In their eyes, I will always be that little runt of a girl, pigtails swinging while I follow dutifully after my older siblings. I’ll always be Mama’s most protected child. The one she hovered over the most, the one she still believes can’t make her own decisions.
I’ve lived alone for many years and yet all they are willing to see is the wayward, indecisive girl who took far too long to graduate. I doubt anyone sees how hard I’ve worked to do this on my own, working steadily at the preschool, as well as taking any side jobs that have popped up over the years. I’ve scrimped and saved and eaten trash for weeks on end just to afford tuition payments. And still it seems like no one sees me for the hardworking, independent woman I’ve become.
I’m doing this. I’m going to share my life and my love with my family. And if they refuse to accept him, then I’ll know without a doubt that they will never believe I can make good choices on my own. If they refuse to see all the wonderful things that I see in Caleb, then it’s clear I will always be nothing more than a baby, floundering around, making impulsive decisions, giving my trust where it’s not earned.
I love my family more than I’ll admit sometimes, but I’m tired of allowing them to dictate my life. This is MY life. These are my decisions. My choices.
He is my man.
Chopping the onion like an expert chef, I dump the pile into the pot and give it a stir. Pop is puttering around the kitchen, opening beers for us while I cook, and setting places at the table. My gumbo is his favorite dish, and since he requested it weeks ago, I decided to surprise him and forego our typical Saturday afternoon lunch and cook for us instead.
Cooking is therapeutic, although admittedly I don’t do it often enough. During the school year, I exist on take out and the occasional homemade sandwich. During my down time in the summer, I try to limit eating out. Granted, Sophia and I have been eating out a lot. It’s about the only normal thing we do, actually. We go to dinner, we walk around town once in a while, but I’ve yet to cook for her except for the occasional breakfast.
I haven’t made her any promises.
I haven’t referred to her as my girlfriend.
I haven’t made any attempt to nudge the two of us toward some sort of future together.
It feels like I’m floundering. Hell, I am floundering. She’s given me what I asked for: space—and lots of it. She doesn’t bombard me with phone calls. She doesn’t show up unannounced at my apartment. In fact, she seems more than willing to sit back and let me set the pace.
So why the hell does that irritate me? Why, after being exactly who I told her I needed her to be, do I spend endless hours wondering about her?
I’m a fucked-up mess. Apparently, I’m more scarred by my past with Rianne than I originally thought. The constant waffling between desperately wanting Sophia to be close and feeling like the walls are closing in is something I battle daily. The worst part is that I bring it all on myself. She, on the other hand, is perfect. Smart and sassy and equally patient. Half the time I’m not sure why the hell she puts up with me.
When the pot is finally simmering away, Pop an
d I settle in the living room with our beers, the television droning on in the background. He gives me a sideways look underneath his bushy gray eyebrows, blue eyes dancing with laughter. “Where’s your pretty girl today?”
I shrug and turn my attention to the screen, even though I couldn’t care less what’s on. “At home, I presume.”
“You should have invited her. She’s much more fun than you are,” he scoffs. “And she’s better looking.”
With a chuckle, I stretch my legs out in front of me, crossing one ankle over the other. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”
“What’s troubling you, Son?”
The man has always been able to read me. No matter what I say or how hard I try to school my features, he can tell when something is off. “Nothing, Pop.” Not sure why I bother protesting. We both know he’ll manage to squeeze the truth out eventually.
“That’s bull and you know it.” He gestures to me with his beer bottle. “You’re not screwing things up with that sweet girl are you?”
“Probably,” I mutter.
“Now why would you do that?” Getting to his feet, he stands before me to make his point. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. She makes you happy. I’ve seen it.”
Setting my beer aside, I drag my hands through my hair and make a mental note to get a haircut before school resumes. “She does, Pop. Sophia is amazing. We’re just trying to work it all out.”
He grumbles something unintelligible then glares at me. “You’re worried she’s too young for you? Is that it?”
“Well yeah, Pop. She’s only twenty-four. She’s still in school for crying out loud.”
He rolls his eyes and scratches his beard. “Big deal. Do you like her?”
“Of course I like her.”
“Do you love her?”
My stomach jumps uneasily, and I avoid his knowing look. “I don’t know. I think I do, but there’s a lot we need to work through first.”
He sighs. “Such as?”
“Her family.” Standing, I stroll to the window and gaze out to the street. “Her brothers will be in town this week. She wants me to meet them.” Recalling the intimidating men from her graduation, I have some idea of how well the meeting is going to go. “She’s the baby of the family, Pop. They’re not gonna like that she used to be my TA and that I’m almost forty.”
“This isn’t like you, Caleb … to anticipate problems like this. To expect only the worst.”
“Yeah, well, I know how overprotective her family can be. I don’t want her feeling like she has to choose between me or them.”
The tense silence that remains after my statement leaves me cold. There’s no arguing the fact that if she is forced to choose, I will lose. I might hate the idea of letting her go, but I’d never ask her to sacrifice anything for me. Not her family, not her future, and most certainly not her happiness.
Stomping into the kitchen, I drag a shaky breath into my lungs. I’ll go to dinner, meet her brothers, and hope more than anything that I’m wrong. I’ll do it for her, because she asked me to, not because I have any real need to know her family. Not yet anyway.
Glancing around the room that used to be my mom’s favorite, I have to ask myself if this is going to be my life in a few years. Living all alone, a few token memories Sophia left behind keeping me company. I’d love to say I see her in my future, but the odds are stacked against us. Hell, they’ve been stacked against us from the beginning. I never should have looked at her as anything other than a student. I never should have pursued her, never should have even touched her. When she came to me and announced she was free to be mine, I should have balked. I should have protested, should have made her see what real obstacles we were going to face. I should have done something other than the weak fight I put up that lasted only a few weeks.
I didn’t do any of that, and now I’m left wondering what exactly it will be that will end us. Because we will end. We’re almost destined to regardless of what happens next.
His footsteps are slow and steady as he follows me into the room, pausing just inside the doorway. “You have to fight for what you want, Son. Giving up isn’t an option.” He takes another few steps closer, speaking to the back of my head because I refuse to turn around. “If you love her, you will do anything. You’ll fight whomever needs fighting. You’ll kick and scream and let her know without any hesitation that she is your only priority.” One more step and his hand comes up on my shoulder, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you think your mom and I had it easy? I fought for her at the beginning and at the end. I was her advocate, her prince, her partner. I was the one she trusted, the person who knew her better than anyone else did.” He sighs. “The day we lost her she asked me one thing. She asked me to make certain you understood how important loving someone is.” He moves away, settling in a chair at the table when I turn to face him. “I’ve done a piss poor job of that, apparently.”
My heart clenches painfully. “No you haven’t, Pop.”
“I must have, if you’re doubting your feelings for Sophia.”
With a frown, I take the chair next to him, propping my elbows on my knees. “Maybe she’s not the one.”
“Bullshit. She is. We both know it.”
It’s just like my father to lob ambiguous words into the air like he’s preaching a sermon. How can he be so sure Sophia is meant for me? He’s been around her what … three, maybe four times. The two of them are like kids when they get together, heads bent, sharing secrets, laughing over a good glass of wine. She brings out the child in my father, and she brings him a sense of happiness I haven’t seen since before we lost mom. But does that mean Sophia and I should spend a future together?
“Don’t base your relationship with her on your failed one with Rianne. Look at Sophia for who she is. It’s a chance to do it right this time. She is a bright, beautiful woman who loves you. A woman who would give you the world, if only you had the courage to ask.”
Wow … only my father can insult me and try to prop me up in the same breath. “Yeah, okay.”
Reaching out, his wrinkled hands take possession of mine, his grip warm and firm as our eyes meet. “Stop looking for reasons why it can’t work. Start asking yourself how you can make it better. She loves you, Caleb. Why isn’t that enough?”
Little does he know that I’ve asked myself the same question about a thousand times. It is enough and yet it isn’t. It isn’t because life is difficult and shit happens and sometimes no matter how bad you want something, it simply is not meant to be. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, the one thing you want more than anything, the one thing you’d give your own life for, is just out of reach.
I’m certainly not ever going to be able to cook like my mama does, but I’ve spent enough time with her in the kitchen to have picked up a few tips here and there. The one recipe I have perfected over the years is her enchiladas, which I decided would be the perfect meal to ease my brothers into my relationship with Caleb. Silly to think food might pave the way, but I’m a desperate woman and I very much want them to approve.
My nerves have been all over the place these past few days, which is really stupid. They are my brothers for God’s sake. Two boys who used to tease me relentlessly, who long ago dressed me up like a boy when I begged to tag along with them and their friends. These boys have grown into sweet, loving men with wives they adore. I have to believe there’s a soft spot way down deep for me knowing I want exactly what they each have.
Marco is the wild card here. While Cruz will be predictably curt and direct, Marco will either be fully accepting or will go after Caleb with guns blazing. There’s no middle ground with that man, the crazy one of the family with the loose tongue and once loose morals. Amita has tamed him some, but even she can’t squelch his nasty tongue or his easily ignited temper. Especially when it comes to me. All three of my brothers are unrealistically protective to the point that I’m surprised I managed to move out of state and stay here for so l
ong on my own without them constantly hovering.
The doorbell rings just as I get the background music going; Cruz’s beloved classic Spanish guitar sets what I hope will be a calm mood. With one last deep, soothing breath, I reach for the door and pull it open.
“Hey there, little sis. How’s it hanging?” Marco drops a wet kiss on my cheek then steps passed me. “Where’s the beer?”
“Under the couch,” I reply sarcastically, reaching out to hug Cruz.
“Hello, pequeńa. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I quickly look my boys over and am not surprised to see that little has changed. Cruz is buttoned up tightly in one of his many black suits, while Marco is sporting cargo shorts and a tank top. They are like yin and yang, and yet they are the best of friends.
“Where’s the boyfriend?” Marco asks, meandering into the kitchen and calling out. “You guys want a beer?”
“One track mind,” Cruz murmurs, hands in his pockets as he moves around the room. They both have been here a time a two, but he always seems to see my apartment through a new set of eyes, as if he’s searching for hidden secrets.
“He’ll be here shortly,” I reply, nodding my thanks when Marco hands both of us a beer. We settle on the couch, and he promptly kicks his feet up onto the coffee table.
He smirks at me and taps his bottle against mine. “Soph, what’s the deal with this guy? You into him or are you just fucking?”
Cruz instantly tenses, snapping out a retort of condemnation. I burst out laughing at Marco’s less than subtle candor, my face heating under his knowing look. These boys share my mama’s dark hair and intense blue-green eyes. At first glance people sometimes mistake them as twins, but the differences aren’t hard to define. Cruz is intense, watchful, and doesn’t speak unless he has something to say. Marco, on the other hand, says whatever is on his mind, censoring himself only when Mama is around.
