Page 45 of The TV Show Rival
Silhouettes of villagers moved about, their laughter and the rhythmic strum of a guitar drifting across the water. A group of children, barefoot and dressed in simple cotton clothes, chased each other around.
Older men sat on weathered benches, mending fishing nets and exchanging tales in hushed voices.
As Miguel steered the boat closer, a few heads turned their way, offering friendly smiles and waves. Finally, the boat stopped by a rickety wooden pier.
“Here we are, amigas!” he announced, his voice booming across the water.
A figure emerged from the shadows at the water’s edge. Even from a distance, Jamie couldn’t help but smile—it was Isabella.
As the woman drew closer, she wasn’t tall, barely reaching Jamie’s shoulder, and the moonlight illuminated a face sprinkled with a constellation of freckles. A cascade of reddish-brown hair tumbled past her shoulders, a few stray strands escaping to dance on the gentle breeze.
Her flowery dress flowed loosely around her heavily pregnant form and her bare feet were slightly swollen, a telltale sign of the journey her body was making.
Holding her hand, a tiny figure toddled towards them, giggling. The little boy, barely two years old, was a miniature version of Miguel, with the same dark eyes and unruly mop of hair. Diapers, the only article of clothing adorning him, hugged his waist.
As the boat nudged against the pier, Miguel hopped out first, a wide smile plastered on his face.
“Mi Amor!” Isabella called, hands outstretched.
Miguel swept her into a hug, his weathered hand cradling her rounded belly with a tenderness that spoke volumes of their love.
“Oh, you big goof! You nearly squashed the baby with that greeting!”
Miguel, feigning innocence, held her at arm’s length. “The little one is strong, mi amor. Just like its mama.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he planted kisses on her.
Isabella blushed, swatting him playfully on the arm again, but the force behind it was nonexistent. “Alright, you charmer, but don’t forget we have guests!”
Finally, with a chuckle, Miguel pulled away, remembering his guests. “Ah, where are my manners? Jamie, Jess, this is Isabella, my wife.”
“Jamie and Jess, so lovely to have you here,” Isabella said, turning her gaze towards Jess and Jamie.
Before they could respond, Isabella swept them both into warm hugs. “Welcome, welcome!”
As she released Jamie, Jamie couldn’t help but blurt out, “You look radiant, Isabella!”
The compliment brought a blush to Isabella’s cheeks. “Gracias, Jamie. Pregnancy agrees with some, it seems.” She chuckled softly.
“Well, it definitely brings out a certain glow,” Jamie continued, her gaze lingering on Isabella’s face for a beat longer than necessary. Subtly, she nudged Jess with her elbow, a silent invitation to join the conversation.
Jess, not the sociable type, flashed a smile at Isabella. “Miguel mentioned you prepared quite the feast. We’re both starved after a long day of… training.”
“Ay, Miguel. I told you to keep that quiet! Now our guests will be expecting a royal banquet on a Wednesday night!”
Miguel chuckled, his hand reaching for hers. “Sorry, mi amor. They tricked it out of me.”
Jess, caught between amusement and the slight pang of guilt for breaking the surprise, interjected with a disarming grin. “I should apologize. I guess I’m not one to keep secrets.”
Isabella’s exasperation melted into a warm smile. “Too bad for you then because yes, I have prepared enough delicacies to feed an army.”
Suddenly, the little boy, who had been engrossed in building a sandcastle cried out as the tide threatened his creation. “Papi!”
Miguel scooped him up effortlessly, his face lighting up with paternal love.
“Hola, mi pequeño Rico,” Miguel planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Come, let’s introduce you to our guests. This is Jamie and Jess, Rico. They’ll be joining us for dinner tonight.”
Rico, momentarily distracted from his sandcastle project, peeked at them with wide, curious eyes. He reached out a tiny hand, and Jess, unable to resist, gently bumped fists with him. A shy smile broke out on Rico’s face, and he burrowed his head back into his father’s chest.
“This little rascal keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.” Isabella smiles, shuffling Rico’s hair.