Page 94 of This Could Be Us
I blink back tears because the things I’ve done seem so inconsequential in the face of what Cora and her family are experiencing. I know firsthand how terrifying this fight is. I know how it feels to lose it, to do everything everyone told us, and it just wasn’t enough. The helpless rage of losing Mami too soon swells in my chest, vises my heart. I hate that my new friend has to battle the same foe.
“Merry Christmas,” I say after a few moments. “Tell Cora I’ll check on her soon.”
“Merry Christmas,” he replies, his solemn eyes dropping to the boxes ofpastelesin his hands.
I turn and take the porch steps quickly. Even with my back to him, I’m afraid he’ll sense my tears somehow. Stumbling through the slightly neglected yard, I force my feet to keep moving until I reach the Pilot. I climb in and glance back to the house. I can see Robert through the screen door, holding the two festive boxes and the coquito. He hasn’t moved from the spot, but just stands there looking a little lost, like he’s not sure what’s next.
And I know that feeling too.
I start my car, but don’t drive off immediately. Instead, I glance over at the passenger seat, where one last box ofpastelesand a bottle of coquito rest. I can lie to myself, but when I packed the extra box, I knew who it was for.
I drive almost on autopilot for the few miles it takes to reach my destination. I pull out my phone to send a text.
Me:Hey! What are you up to?
Judah:Nothing much. The boys are spending Christmas Eve with Tremaine. We fly out tomorrow to see my parents.
Me:So you’re home?
A string of dots hovers, and my heart seems to be suspended too. Waiting to beat.
Judah:I’m home, yeah. Why?
Me:I’m outside.
Judah:Then come in.
CHAPTER THIRTY
JUDAH
It’s like I “talked her up,” as my mother used to say. I’ve been thinking about Soledad a lot since the kiss at the party. I’m usually focused on whatever is right in front of me, and my attention rarely wavers. But since she came into my life—since the first night I met her—she has intruded on my thoughts and broken my focus more than anyone or anything ever has. I don’t want to crowd her, so I haven’t called. I’m resigned to this friends-at-a-distance arrangement, even though I’ve wanted to touch her every day.
Guess not reaching out paid off, because she came to me.
I leave my suitcase open on the bed, already filled with neatly folded clothes for tomorrow’s flight to see my parents. I force myself to take the steps slowly, like an adult man who helps manage a multibillion-dollar budget for one of the state’s largest corporations instead of a horny, nervous teenager anticipating his date to the prom.
Not that I had any interest in going to the prom. I wasn’t so much a late bloomer as a disinterested gardener for a long time.
The doorbell rings as I reach the foyer, and I refrain from yanking the door open. How is it possible to miss someone you’ve barely gotten to spend any real time with? But I’ve watched Soledad’s platform grow, her confidence soar over the last year. I, like so many of her followers, feel like she’s a friend. Someone I can trust and am rooting for. She’s an influencer. She influencesme, and she probably has no idea.
“Hi.” She stands on my front porch, bathed in the glow of Christmas lights and early-evening moonbeams.
“Hi.” I step back. “Come in.”
She glances over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip, the battle clear on her face.
“Did I imagine a text message where we said you’d come inside?” I ask, her obvious reluctance drawing a smile to my lips.
“No.” She clutches a gold box and a glass bottle of milky-looking liquid to her chest. “You’re right. I just…”
She’s obviously conflicted about coming inside. Maybe even about coming here at all. I hope that means she has to fight the desire to seek me out the way I fight every day to stay away from her. A noble impulse urges me to take the box and the bottle and send her back to her Honda… for her own good. It’s been a week since I saw her. Since I tasted her sweetness for the first time. Felt the effect of our kiss on her, how her heartbeat answered mine, knocking between our chests. Even if I can’t have another kiss, I could have that. The closeness and the hunger, even if I must deny it. The possibility of even a few minutes with her crushes my noble urge.
“Five minutes,” I negotiate, stepping back to clear her path into the foyer. “And then you can leave.”
She still hesitates, looking down at the box and the bottle and drawing a deep breath.
“What could happen in five minutes?” I ask, even though myriad things I could do to her in five minutes that would satisfy us both filter through my thoughts.