She gave me a funny look as she handed me my plate.
“How’s work? Anything new going on over there?” I immediately stiffened, unsure of how to explain just how much was going on at work. I sat down, picked up my bagel and took a big bite before getting into it.
“We got pretty big news this week actually. We have a donor for the renovation. It’s this rich business guy, he wants to give two million dollars to the agency.” I tried to school my expression and sound neutral, because I knew if there was anything in my tone that sounded even remotely like drama, my mom would pick up on it. The way she raised her eyebrow told me my attempt at being coy had completely failed.
“Oh, so what’s wrong with him? Because your eyelid’s doing something funny.” I slumped and laughed in defeat.
“I sort of know the guy. Like, in that way.” I was the only child of a woman who grew up in the Cuban revolution. Sex had never been taboo in this house.
“Who is he? You hadn’t mentioned you were seeing a millionaire, Milito!” She widened her eyes like she did when something particularly juicy happened in one of her telenovelas.
“We weren’t seeing each other, Ma. It was a one-time thing.” I took another bite of my bagel, just to have something to do. I felt so exposed and weird talking about Tom, even with my mother.
She looked confused now, like she couldn’t understand why I was making a big deal out of it, then a worried expression settled on her face.
“Did he say something disrespectful to you? Is he trying to force you to do anything?”
I help up my hands, concerned I’d scared her.
“Not at all, it’s nothing like that. It’s just awkward.”
And here was the part that was hard to admit. “I’m just a little worried I’ll do something stupid. I’m so attracted to him and the more I learn about him, the more amazing he seems.” I slid a hand over my face, before I continued, feeling a little mortified. “I don’t want to be unprofessional, and I know he should be off-limits, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep it together if he pushes for something.”
“And what would be so bad about being swept off your feet by a handsome and generous millionaire, Milito?” she asked, genuinely baffled by my dilemma.
Aaaaaand there it was. My friends always teased me about being a closeted Disney princess, secretly waiting for Prince Charming to whisk me away on a white horse, and maybe I was. But I’d come by it honestly.
My mother was a hopeless romantic, fanatical about watching her telenovelas, hooked on those happy endings. Even though she’d given up on love for herself, she still held out hope I’d find the perfect partner. In my dad she’d found her prince charming, and she fervently believed there was someone out there who was made just for me. I doubted it would be the guy I’d given a blow job one hour after meeting him though.
“Mama, I can’t get involved with this guy. It would be inappropriate, and it could mess up the project or get me fired. I have to meet with him on my own Wednesday and I have no clue how it’s going to go. I’m nervous.” I knew I was being overly dramatic, but I was completely at a loss on how things would go once I was on my own with Tom.
My mom shook her head like I was being ridiculous. “Camilo, you’ll be fine. No one knows how to handle himself better than you. Especially when it comes to a man who wants to take advantage.” Suddenly her face looked sad and she turned around to pour herself another coffee. “You learned that lesson from what I let that man do to us.”
I frowned and walked up to where she was cursing her ex Ramon for the millionth time.
“Mami, you’re the bravest woman in the world. Everything I know about standing up for myself I learned from you. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”
She let me walk into her arms again, and held on to me tight. She was a few inches shorter than me, but she was so strong. With her arms wrapped around me I finally started feeling like I could handle this meeting with Tom.
Tom
“¿Cómo están mis viejos?” I asked around the grin I was sure I was flashing my parents with. They loved to act like they hated being called old.
“M’ijo. You look tired. Are you sleeping all right?” my mother said, ignoring my “viejos” comment and doing her usual assessment of my face. Getting in as close as the FaceTime screen allowed. I shook my head and shared a look with my dad.
“Mamí, I’m fine. I’m just forty-one and don’t look like your baby anymore.” She flipped a hand at me like what I was saying was ridiculous, then bumped my dad’s shoulder.
“You may be light skinned, but you got the Dominican genes for sure, you don’t look a day older than thirty,” she said in a teasing tone as my dad rolled his eyes. “Where’s my niña?” she asked tilting her head from side to side as if I was hiding Libe behind me or something.
It was late on Sunday and I usually called them when Libe was around, but today I was feeling like I wanted to check in with them on my own. My dad must have suspected there was something going on with me, because he leaned in for his own close inspection of my face.
“Is everything alright, son?” He’d let his beard grow in the last few years, so his weathered face was covered with salt-and-pepper hair.
I nodded quickly, not wanting to worry them. “Yeah, we’re good. She’s in bed already. We had a busy day at the zoo.”
My mother’s face relaxed and my dad smiled as he reached for her hand. They still did that, held hands when they were sitting together or walking. After so many years they sought each other’s touch for comfort.
Theirs had been such an unlikely love story.
My dad the ex-Marine who’d come to the Dominican Republic as part of the occupation forces, and my mother one of the young activists who fiercely stood up against them. They never crossed paths then, but when my dad returned almost ten years later, hoping to find the same magic he’d felt on his first visit, he found love too.
Camilo once again came to my foolish mind, and I surprised myself by wanting to tell my parents about him. It was too soon to tell my parents, so I veered in another direction, which of course took me right back to Camilo.
“We finally got the domestic violence project going, Mamí. I met with the director of the agency last week.”
My mother’s face lit up immediately. I’d been talking about doing something to honor my aunt’s memory for years and I finally had the time to do it.
“Ay m’ijo.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so proud of you.”
My dad put his arms around her shoulders and kissed the side of her face, before he spoke too. “That’s great, son. Tell us about the agency. You told us about a few the last time we got an update, which one did you finally decide on?”
He was such a contrast to my mother. Measured and not overly emotional, but he was never shy about showing his affection. He told my mother he loved her every day of my childhood. From my mother I learned how to be bold about what I wanted, to go for my dreams, and my dad taught me how to be a man his family could rely on for everything.
Once again Camilo popped into my head and I wondered what my parents would think of him. I couldn’t help the smile that appeared on my face as soon as I started talking about New Beginning.
“The agency is exactly what we wanted, a grassroots organization working with immigrant women. They have a solid reputation, and things got off to a great start.”
The urge to say something about Camilo was almost overwhelming, with every word it felt increasingly important to tell my parents about him. To let them know I’d met someone. I wasn’t one to share things until they were basically a done deal, but I wanted to tell them all the things I was feeling. That I had hardly been able to get Camilo out of my mind since the moment I met him.
“I’m meeting with the manager for their residential programs this week. He, uh.” Talking about Camilo made me
feel clumsy, unprepared. After so many years at the helm of a company that took me to the highest levels of business, I’d forgotten what it was like to feel out of my depth.
“What about him?” my mother asked, startling me.
“He’s Cuban, so he speaks Spanish,” I said, sure that I was blushing.
My parents gave me matching puzzled looks and I sat there debating if I should tell them or not. All of this was new for me. I was not one to harp about my feelings until it was absolutely necessary, but my usual playbook had been completely gone from the moment I’d seen those gray eyes at the gala.
After things ended with Maxwell I’d taken my time about going back out there, dating. My carelessness in my marriage, my lack of attention to how bad things really were with Maxwell until it was too late, left me feeling scared of my own judgment. I wasn’t sure if I could be a good partner, and Libe needed me so much, I just poured myself into being a parent. So this thing with Camilo, this urgency, it was like waking up to myself after a long sleep.
“¿Ay Tommy, m’ijo, que te pasa?” My mom’s voice was a mix of worry and exasperation.
She did not like brooding.
My mother needed every feeling aired out immediately. No holding back. She always said the universe gave her two “reserved” children as a test to her patience.
I looked at my parents, and the way they were together. The love that was always palpable between them. They’d been good models to me, and yet, when the time came I hadn’t been able to live up to it.
“Did I let you guys down with the way I treated Maxwell? That I didn’t take better care of him?”
My mother clicked her tongue at my question and my father’s face contorted as if the questioned pained him, but my mother spoke first.
“Mi amor, I couldn’t have dreamed for a better son. Look at what you’ve done, Tommy.” She waved her hand around the apartment. I’d built the building after my dad retired, so now they lived on the beach like they always dreamed of.
“You went to New York solito, all on your own, son, what you’ve done with your life is remarkable. Your brother too, he could’ve stayed in the States after medical school, but he came back to his country and is doing so many wonderful things with the border communities that need so much. My sons are such good men, but I wish I would’ve been better at letting you know you don’t have to be perfect I—”
“We,” my dad added, earning a kiss and sad smile from my mother. He looked at her with that adoring expression he always had for her. “Raising these boys was never just on you, Esperanza.”
I smiled at my dad’s still thick accent when he spoke in Spanish and how jumbled it got when he got emotional.
He turned to me, and his face was so serious. “Son, you’ve always been so good, so noble, but you’re not perfect. You were building a business, and doing things that your mother and I are still amazed by. But accomplishing something like you have, at such a young age, it comes at a cost.” He lifted a shoulder then. “That doesn’t mean you don’t know how to love, that you don’t deserve a second chance. Things didn’t work with Maxwell, but you’re raising a great kid together.”
My mom interjected again. “It’s true. Don’t doubt yourself, Tommy, when the right person comes along you will know exactly what to do.”
“I would argue, but we both know that you won’t let me off FaceTime until I agree with you,” I said teasing.
That got me a laugh from my parents.
“Mi muchachito.” I could be a hundred years old and my mother would never stop calling me her little boy.
We were all silent for a few breaths, but the conversation had lost its heaviness as we veered into talking about my brother’s work before ending the call. I sat for a moment with the fact the first thing that came to mind after my mother’s last comments was that I was seeing Camilo Briggs in two days.
Chapter Seven
Camilo
I’d been feeling pretty good about my ability to get through this first meeting with Thomas Hughes, until I saw his name like a beacon in my inbox.
Hours away from our first meeting I was sitting at my desk squinting at my computer monitor, a hesitant finger hovering over the keyboard like I was about to disable a ticking bomb.
I assumed it was just a confirmation the meeting was happening, but given my current emotional state, you’d think my computer was going to blow up the moment I opened the fucking thing.
After spending Sunday with my mother, I’d arrived at the office on Monday feeling like I could handle being around Tom without putting myself in a precarious position. That lasted a total of three hours, until Melissa asked me to read over the other philanthropic efforts Tom had been a part of over the last ten years.
Thomas Hughes, on paper at least, was not only ridiculously wealthy, gorgeous and smart, he was a good man. Which was why opening the email where he had probably typed perfectly charming and lovely words about our meeting today was going to blast the last of my already very vulnerable defenses.
“There you are!” I almost fell out of my chair when I heard Melissa’s voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Hi, Melissa,” I said with a lot less enthusiasm than she seemed to have today. The extra pep in her step could only mean she was here to talk about the renovation project, namely my meeting with Tom.
“Are you ready for this afternoon?” The inflection in her tone made it clear that she was well aware I was dreading this meeting. She had no clue it was because I’d had Mr. Hughes’s dick in my mouth nary a week ago. But she knew me well enough to know a welfare check was in order.
“Yes, I just got an email from him. I think it’s just confirming the time and place.”
“Oh great!” She grinned, her eyes lasered in on the back of my monitor. “Check to see what he said.” I reluctantly clicked on the message and quickly read the few lines he’d sent under Melissa’s scrutiny. As I suspected it was a perfectly worded message. I took a deep breath and tightened my leg muscles as I stared blankly at the screen, trying, but failing, to not get taken in by the giddiness I felt about seeing him again.
I glanced at Melissa and almost laughed at her expectant expression.
“We’re on for three o’ clock today. He said he’ll let me know where soon, because he’s got stuff going this morning and not sure where he’ll be, but that it’ll be around here.”
I tried not to sound annoyed with the whole “mystery location” drama.
Melissa didn’t seem too perturbed by the fact I might be lured into some seedy situation though, she just smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
“Excellent. I’m sure he’ll come up with something convenient. He is such a considerate man.” She legit sighed. Tom’s juju had gotten to Melissa too.
“So, I wanted to check in with you, because I just heard about a couple of potential developments that could put us on track to start this renovation even faster than we thought.”
“Oh?”
She leaned in before answering and she was smiling wide, so I expected this was more good news. “Sounds like Suarez Construction is available after all.”
I perked up at that. They’d worked for us in the past and had been incredibly professional, going out of their way to make sure our clients felt safe around their staff.
“That’s great, I thought they were working on that big health and wellness center for trauma survivors in Brooklyn though. Are they done already?” I asked handing Melissa the small bowl of candy on my desk she’d been eyeing. After she popped a Jolly Rancher into her mouth she leaned in closer.
“Bueno, apparently there was some escandalo.”
The gossipy tone in her voice almost made me laugh. I knew it was going to be some good chisme if Melissa was speaking in Spanish. Melissa was a self-proclaimed Jersey Girl, but her wife, Rita, was a gorgeous Puerto Rican woman.
They’d been together for like twenty years, and married for ten. At this point Melissa could roll into any Latinx cookout and own the tíos in a Dominoes game without breaking a sweat.
“This gossip must be good, boss. You pulled that chair so close, you’re almost on my side of the desk.” She waved my shade off as she got to it.
“Well sounds like the project is not happening, at least not for now.” It was adorable how she whispered even though it was just the two of us in the office, and the door was closed.
It was interesting news though. That wellness center had been the talk of the NYC nonprofit crowd all of last year. A wealthy family had offered to fund the project completely in partnership with an agency in Brooklyn.
“So what happened?”
Melissa got even closer. This shit must be real scandalous, because she was now practically sitting on my desk.
“Apparently the donor pulled out. It was a woman who used the services from the agency decades ago. She’s from a very wealthy family and through the years has been a big funder.” Melissa’s face hardened before she went on. “The word is that she found out one of the agency people working closely with the family started seeing the woman’s granddaughter. Who apparently is very young, like barely eighteen.”
The skin on my face heated as Melissa’s words sunk in, and a bubble of dread settled in my stomach. Melissa was not the type of person to be passive-aggressive, but this was way too close to home for me not to notice...or panic.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I couldn’t even come up with a response, so I just nodded, hoping she didn’t notice the twitching in my eye. But Melissa went on unbothered.
American Fairytale (Dreamers) Page 6
