Cami latches on to my hand and tugs. “Vamos a comer.”
Lana doesn’t say anything, but the silence between us doesn’t bode well. As good as a home-cooked Colombian meal sounds right now, I’m not about to give Lana another reason to be annoyed with me.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I have plans.”
“Like what?” The kid lacks any personal boundaries or social skills.
She is five. Give her a break.
“I’m going to eat at the diner.”
Her face scrunches in the same way Lana’s does. “Booooo.”
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any lower, I get heckled by a five-year-old.
Great.
Lana walks up to Cami and gives her shoulders a squeeze. “Maybe next time.”
“Right.”
“But my mommy’s the bestest cook in the whole wide world.” Her beaming smile is a force to be reckoned with. I doubt I would stand much of a chance at telling her no if it weren’t for Lana glaring a hole into the side of my face as I address her child.
“I know. She learned from the second bestest cook in the whole wide world—her mom.”
Cami gasps, and I instantly know I said the wrong thing.
“You had Abuela’s food? When?” Cami looks up at me with wide eyes.
I glance toward Lana for approval before I say something I shouldn’t. She gives me a small nod, and I let out a breath of relief.
“She worked here while I visited in the summers growing up and cooked the best food I’ve ever had. After your mom, that is”
Cami’s eyes look about ready to pop out of her head from how hard she is straining them. “Really?”
Lana looks away, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
“Yup.”
Cami’s grin widens even more. “Did you like her?”
“It was impossible not to. Every person who met her loved her.” I mean every word. Se?ora Castillo had this energy about her that made everyone want to stick around. She loved to cook, clean, and tell stories while doing both, which was a welcomed change compared to the nannies I spent time around growing up.
It’s one of the reasons I loved visiting for the summers, although my brothers didn’t share the same feelings.
“Do you miss her?”
Cami’s question makes my chest pinch with uncomfortable tightness.
“Yes, I do. I wish I could have said goodbye.”
Lana’s hands grasping on to Cami’s shoulders tighten.
“Where were you?” Cami’s brows pull together.
Lana shakes her head. “Por favor, no más preguntas. Me has hecho suficiente por hoy.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you go set the table while I talk to Cal?”
“Okay!” Cami barrels toward the small kitchen table we pushed into a corner to allow for more space for all the toys.
“If you want to have dinner with us, you can.” She brushes some flour off her apron.
“I don’t want to impose.” You’re such a rotten liar.
My stomach betrays me as it growls loud enough for Lana to hear it. She cracks a small smile. It’s the first one I’ve seen directed toward me in days, and I soak it up like a plant deprived of sunshine.
“Just go take a seat at the table while I get the arepas.”
“Arepas?”
“Y chorizo.”
My mouth waters. “Chorizo? Do you need any help?”
“I’ve been cooking food for years without any help, so I think I can manage just fine on my own, but thanks.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to make a man feel useful every now and then.”
She bats her lashes. “Would you like me to find a lightbulb that needs changing?”
I give her a little shove on the shoulder, and she curls over laughing. The sound feels as if I just injected pure serotonin into my veins.
The timer on the oven beeps, stealing Lana and that rush of happiness with her.
I take a seat next to Cami and give her my attention while ignoring the pull I have toward the woman working around the kitchen.
Lana places my plate in front of me. Before she has a chance to move back, I clasp on to her hand and give it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’m so happy you invited me.”
Lana’s cheeks, already pink from exertion, turn red. “You’re welcome.”
I brush my thumb over her skin. “I missed your food.” I missed a hell of a lot more than her food, but it feels like a safe way to express myself. She squeezes my hand back in silent acknowledgment before I release her.
While Lana grabs a juice box from the fridge, Cami leans over the table to whisper in my ear.
“You like my mommy.”
My eyes stretch to their limits.
“I can keep a secret.” Cami zips her lips and throws an invisible key over her shoulder.
Damn, the kid is smart. Either that or my interest in Lana is so pathetically obvious that even a five-year-old child notices.
Probably a combination of both.
The aroma of arepas tickles my nose and makes my mouth water. Cami digs in, taking bites in between telling us about how she went swimming at the community pool today with her summer camp. Between her storytelling and Lana’s questions, the entire meal is filled with laughter, fake gasps, and Lana goading Cami with silly questions meant to stir up controversy.
I love how there isn’t a single moment of silence.
I don’t remember the last time I felt this content while doing something so simple. Sure, I’ve had dinner with my family, but something about being surrounded by two couples only amplified the empty feeling in my chest. Tonight, though, that sensation is long gone.
There was a point in my life that I thought it wouldn’t be possible to feel this complete. But tonight, I can sense it.
For the first time in a long time, I begin to hope. To believe that there is more for me in this life than chronic loneliness and a desperation to fit in somewhere. That I can be sober and happy, so long as I put in the effort.
Or so I wish.
The hum of the dishwashing machine fills the silence as I scrub the counter with a disinfectant wipe.
Lana comes out of Cami’s bedroom and shuts the door softly behind her. She has been at the bedtime routine for an hour already, with Cami asking for ten more minutes of her bath, one extra bedtime story, and a special request for Lana to sing her a lullaby before bed. I tried not to eavesdrop much, but it was hard given how small the house is.
She looks over at me with a strange expression. “You did the dishes.”
“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner.”
Her head tilts. “I might have to invite you to eat with us every single night if it means you doing the dishes.”
“Deal,” I say too fast, my voice reeking of desperation.
She bites down on her bottom lip, rolling it between her front teeth before speaking up. “It was nice.”
My heart thuds harder against my chest. “What was?”
“Having you eat with us. It felt like…” Her voice drifts off.
I refuse to let her get away with not explaining. “What?” I press.