Page 33 of Entangled With You
“Four years,” I reply without hesitation. I know these things by heart. “Anyway, we clicked as soon as we started chatting. I swear Ma, I’ve never felt that way before. She was so full of life, it made me jealous of her energy, but at the same time I felt important. It was like what I had to say mattered, and she could carry on a conversation without issue. The age difference never became apparent…”
My mind goes to that first night, the way she went and knocked on my door because everyone was drunk and she couldn’t find anyone to have dinner with.
We walk in silence toward the dining area and make it to the resort restaurant in no time. I’m looking at her intently. She’s lost in her thoughts, but the moonlight is giving her a special glow that makes her look even more beautiful. I shamelessly take advantage of her wandering mind and try to learn every single inch of her face. After a while, I clear my throat, and she finally catches up on what’s happening. I'm waiting for her to sit in the chair I’m holding out for her.
“Oh, thank you,” she says with a weak smile. Now it’s her turn to really dissect me with her stare. I guess we both have been curious about each other.
“Would you like to look at the menu? Or would you like me to tell you the special for the evening?” the waiter comes out of nowhere and asks us.
Cattleya continues to stare at me, and for some reason, I don’t feel uncomfortable. I like her eyes on me, it feels nice.
“I think we’ll go with the special tonight,” I answer and look at her for confirmation, and she nods. We don’t even bother to look at the waiter, who vanishes as quickly as he appears.
“So, Cata. Is that your full name? Or is it short for Catalina?” I ask after clearing my throat and sipping the water the waiter brought for us.
She smiles at me, more comfortable this time. “No, my name is Cattleya,” she answers, looking me in the eyes, and I can’t help it. My eyes grow like saucers, and my mouth forms a perfect O. She chuckles at my reaction, which causes my skin to heat up, and I can feel my cheeks turning red.
“And that, my friend, is the reason why I go by Cata,” she says with a chuckle.
“Cattleya,” I repeat, trying the word in my mouth and loving the way it rolls off my lips. “Does it mean something?” I ask, and she gapes at me.
“Are you for real?” she asks, and I feel my cheeks burning a little hotter.
“Yeah, of course, I’m for real. Should I know what Cattleya means?” We are both smiling. I’m glad she finds this funny, and she's not offended by it.
“Do you have orchids in Argentina?” she asks as the waiter approaches our table with our food.
I give him a gracious smile and continue looking at her.
“I guess so. I don’t think I’ve ever paid attention to flowers, to be honest,” I say with a shrug, and decide to go for a spoonful of the seafood casserole we just got. It smells divine.
“Well, orchids are the Colombian national flower. There is a natural park in Antioquia, the state we’re from, where you can find hundreds of different species of orchids. I’m not sure why my parents chose that name for me, but I guess it has given me character,” she says as she goes for her food as well.
“Well, it’s a beautiful name and way more original than Cata.”
“Exactly, which is why I go by Cata. I have enough limelight being the daughter of Samuel Cardona as it is, I don’t particularly enjoy drawing more attention to myself than necessary.”
“Hmm, I guess you’re right. I bet it’s not easy growing up with tons of attention.” I ponder, and I’m surprised at how well the conversation is flowing. I’m genuinely curious, and she doesn’t feel attacked by my questioning.
“Yes and no. I’m aware of who my family is and how that allows us to have the lifestyle we have, and that comes at a price. For some reason, people either love us or hate us. It’s like some people think that public scrutiny is the price we have to pay for being rich, when in reality there’s not a single member of my family who isn’t thankful for what we have. We are constantly looking for ways to give back,” she says with such certainty that I believe her.
“I’ve heard Franco talk about the work Sofia does with the charity foundation, and it’s amazing all the good you guys can do. What I was referring to was to always having to behave a certain way to avoid being judged.”
“Oh, yeah. I must admit, I’m a goodie two-shoes. Always keeping my head low, trying not to rock the boat,” she says with a nervous smile, and I try to tell her with my gaze that I’m not trying to judge her. “But my sister is my hero, she’s the most amazing, strongest woman I know. Besides my mom, of course. And seeing her navigate being a young rich woman, comfortable in her own skin and not afraid of expressing herself, has been my biggest example. Sofi is who I want to be when I grow up,” she says as she throws her head back in laughter, and I join her. This is the best date/non-date I’ve ever had.
“Could I interest you in dessert?” the waiter asks as he refills our water glasses and removes the casserole dishes.
“What’s the special dessert tonight?” Cattleya asks.
“Passion fruit cheesecake,” the waiter answers, and she smiles.
“Oh, delicious. Yes, please,” she says, clapping her hands in excitement. She’s so fucking adorable, I could eat her right this minute.
“Make it two, please,” I add, and the waiter leaves us alone again.
“I’m excited to try real passion fruit,” I mention, and she looks at me, her brows forming a thin line.
“Yeah, it’s not a common fruit in Argentina.”