“Daphne,with Juan’s help, this paperwork could go through pretty fast, but I don’t want you to feel rushed about anything. You can stay with me until you decide what to do.”
Well, there you go. I guess that put us on the same page…not ready to live together, even though we hardly spent a night apart. That said, what I really wanted was a commitment, not something as dramatic as a bent knee proposal, but something a little more promising than putting me up while I look for a place to live.
Not that I have anything against bent knee proposals.
“Though if you’re planning to stay in Miami, it would be silly to move into my place for just a few weeks and then move out again. Just come live with me.”
Hold that thought.
“What do you mean if I stay in Miami?”
She huffed softly and slumped onto the couch. “You’re the one who talks about the big corporate job you missed out on because you came to Miami to be with Emily. Now you’re free to go if a job in Boston is what you really want.”
I hadn’t thought about that job in weeks, or for that matter, leaving Miami. “Is that your way of telling me I shouldn’t make the same mistake I did with Emily by staying here to be with you?”
“I didn’t say that at all. I just don’t want you to stay with me if it means you’ll have regrets.”
In the first place, it wasn’t even relevant because there wasn’t a job offer to consider. And in the second place, “Why would I even look for another job if I’m happy here?”
“Are you?” She patted the couch beside her and wrapped an arm around my shoulder when I sat down. “I remember when all you wanted was a way out of Miami.”
“That was before I met you.”And admittedly before I’d had the pleasure of watching the symphony from box seats, eating dinner aboard a private yacht, and skipping past the rope lines to get into the hottest clubs on South Beach. Miami really is the Magic City when you have access to money.
I wish I hadn’t thought about money when I was trying to make a point about what a difference Mari had made in my outlook. The real changes had happened in my head and heart the moment I quit fighting the Latin culture and embraced it, especially once I understood why feelings about Cuba ran so deep. This was now home and I wanted to be here.
“How could I love you and not Miami? You’re practically one and the same.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a great thing.” I snuggled into her side and trailed my fingers lazily along her forearm, smiling to see goose bumps rise in the wake. “There’s an old saying”—nothing as colorful as snoring mangos—“that happiness isn’t getting what you want. It’s wanting what you already have. That’s where I am, Mari. I’m happy because I’m with you.”
“That’s nice…I like that.”
“So where are you?” I wasn’t looking for an ego-fortifying list of platitudes. I needed only to know that she thought what we had was special.
“We have a Cuban saying too. It won’t sound as sweet as yours but it goes, no hay mal que por bien no venga. There is no bad that doesn’t come to good. Delores meant to hurt me, and instead she gave me a beautiful gift because I met you.”
Of all the things she’d ever said to me, that was far and away the most romantic. That and her statement that she loved me were probably the most I’d get. Plus her invitation to come live with her permanently. And her concern for my financial well-being and worries about my future regrets.
If all that wasn’t Mari expressing herself, it was only because I hadn’t been listening. One of us was holding back, but it wasn’t her.
“I would like to live with you. And maybe someday we’ll take an even bigger step than that.” I was too chicken to look at her so I nuzzled my head under her chin. “I always hoped I’d get married one of these days.”
She didn’t answer me for a few seconds, which made me worry I’d gone too far. Then I felt her arm tighten around my shoulder and her lips press against my temple.
“I always say people should dream big.”
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Playing With Fuego Page 23
