For the second time that day, my entire world flipped over.
Was I wrong to shut Damian out? Was I keeping us from being one big, happy family? I didn’t have the answers. All I knew was that loving him had shattered me. I would never be able to piece myself together a second time if I let him break me again.
DINNER AT CASA PALOMA HAD always been served in the courtyard. I didn’t remember when my mother had been there, but the traditions she’d set carried on long after she was gone. My mother had always preferred dining under an open sky. I remembered the last time my father and I had dined there, surrounded by fragrant trees and soft, twinkling lights.
It was odd returning as a guest now, seeing my childhood home after all these years. The last time I had come to see Damian, I hadn’t stopped to admire its beauty—the tall ceilings that had echoed with our laughter, the kitchen where MaMaLu had made us sweet potato flautas. The renovations had given the mansion a new life, but its bones were still the same. I breathed in the nostalgia of another time as I walked through the house. No amount of paint or sanding could strip away the smell of Casa Paloma. It was in my soul.
“Damian?” I popped my head into the dining room. The table was now a sleek affair in dark wood, but the hutch that Damian used to hide in was still there.
“Sierra?” I followed the sound of her laughter outside, and found them sprawled out under a tree—father and daughter, looking up at the clouds.
“That one looks like a bunny tail,” said Damian.
“Where’s the bunny?” Sierra squinted. “Oh. There. It got sucked up by that dementor. See the ear sticking out?”
“For such a cute kid, you’re one morbid—”
“Mama!” Sierra caught sight of me first. “Come sit.”
It was late afternoon on a Saturday, my day off. Damian had offered to babysit Sierra so I could look after the shipments for that week. Most of my merchandise was going to exclusive boutiques in the States, but after a small piece in a fashion magazine, I was getting inquiries from all over. I sighed as I stretched out beside Sierra. I’d accepted Damian’s invitation to have dinner at Casa Paloma, but I was exhausted and still not caught up on all the orders. I looked up at the glossy, green leaves swaying over me. The yellow blooms were still a few months away, but the breeze was warm and the grass tickled my skin.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, Damian was standing over me.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said, holding out his hand.
His silhouette was outlined against the evening sky. The same silhouette I’d glimpsed through a wooden crate on the boat, where he’d held me captive. I was still terrified of him, but in a different way. He made me miss things that I had bolted down, and every time I was around him, they rattled in their crates, threatening to break free.
I’m doing this for Sierra, I reminded myself, as I took his hand. She deserves parents who can be civil around each other.
I followed Damian inside and froze.
“Skye.” Rafael tipped his head.
The man who had been ready to kill me at one time. Then again, I could say the same for Damian.
“My apologies for intruding. I thought I’d surprise Damian. I didn’t realize you and Sierra would be here,” he said.
“I told Rafael he was welcome to stay for dinner.” Damian didn’t ask. His house, his rules. The three people he cared for were all under one roof.
Suck it up and make nice.
It didn’t take me long to warm up to Rafael. I understood it had never been personal. He had simply been looking out for his friend.
We ate a simple meal in the courtyard: seashell pasta with ground beef and cotija, a crumbly cheese that Sierra loved. I smiled when she reached for seconds. My culinary skills hadn’t improved much. She never complained, but she obviously preferred Damian’s cooking.
“I actually stopped by to give you this.” Rafael handed Damian a metallic envelope with embossed initials.
“You’re getting married?” said Damian as he read the card inside. “Holy hell!”
They followed through with hearty thumps on the back.
“You’re all invited,” said Rafael, looking at Sierra and me. “The ceremony is at the church of San Miguel Arcangel, and the reception is at Camila’s.” He was about to elaborate when his phone rang. “Sorry.” He excused himself. “I have to take this.” From the smile on his face, it was obviously his bride-to-be.
“So, when do I get to meet her?” asked Damian, when Rafael returned.
“She gets in tomorrow. We’re staying at a hotel in Paza del Mar. I came in early to give you a heads up.”
“You finally bit the bullet?”
“I sure did.” Rafael put his phone down and picked up his glass. “To old friends,” he said.
“To old friends.” We raised a toast.
My heart and your heart are old, old friends, Damian’s eyes said to me.