Her eyes widened, then she blinked, once, twice and seemed to still, her fists unclenching where she’d held them by her sides.
“I loved you the day I ran that stupid race. I loved you the night we made Hudson, and I loved you this last year and a half, too, even when you left and I didn’t want to love you anymore. I did anyway. There’s never been a choice. And I know it must be hard for you to believe in my love after everything I’ve done that’s hurt you, but it’s true. God, it’s true. And if you’ll give me another chance to prove it to you, I’ll do anything. Anything.” My words broke off in a strangled whisper as emotion clawed at my throat.
Lia’s lips parted as if in speechless surprise, her eyes soft and still shiny from the tears she’d cried. I stepped forward until I was right in front of her and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. She closed her eyes briefly and let out a small sniffle. I moved a stray piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose from her braid, my finger lingering on the petal softness of her skin.
At the closeness of our bodies, the feel of her skin and the sweet, subtle smell of her, my body reacted, blood rushing south. I let out a small, strangled laugh, exercising my control. No one would ever affect me like this woman. Not even close.
“You . . . love me?” she whispered.
“All my life. I always have, and I always will.” I knew that now, and it scared me, but there was also peace in the acceptance. And it gave me all the more reason to fight for this, for us. “Didn’t you know?”
“How could I know? You never told me.”
I let out a breath. “I’m not always good with words.” I gave her a half smile. “You may have noticed.”
Her lip quirked minutely, too. “I may have.” The words were said tenderly, though, softly.
I smoothed another piece of hair away from her face. “Let me prove it, Annalia,” I repeated. “Let me try. Please.”
“Oh, Preston,” she started, her voice soft and still slightly soggy-sounding. “I love you, too. It’s . . . it’s the first thing I can truly remember.”
I let my breath out slowly, my heart pounding in my chest with love and relief.
“But . . . “ she started, and I tensed slightly, “do you ever wonder if we really know each other?” At the earnest expression on her face and the way she hadn’t moved away from me, I relaxed, thinking about her question.
“I remember having that thought about you once actually. I noticed everything about you, and yet knew very little about what was inside your heart, what your life was really like.” I tilted my head. “Do you think . . . ah hell, do you think maybe we need to start again as if it’s the beginning? Because Lia, maybe it is. Or rather, maybe it needs to be.”
“Is that even possible? We have a baby together.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why we need to make it possible. We need to try. For us, but also for him.”
Lia’s eyes moved over my face for a moment and then she sighed, taking the end of her braid in her fingers and moving it back and forth as her eyes moved to the side and she bit her lip. “Start at the beginning . . .” she murmured. She took a deep breath and seemed to square her shoulders slightly as she let her braid drop and looked back up into my eyes. “All right. Let’s . . . let’s go back to the beginning.”
I smiled, feeling a sudden burst of love and gratitude. “All right,” I said through my smile. I took her hands in mine and she smiled back. Looking into her beautiful eyes, I saw my past and my future. I saw the young girl who had spat a half-eaten strawberry into my brother’s hand. I saw an amazing, strong woman, who had the courage to come back to me. I saw my love, my heart, my home.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Annalia
The dinner crowd was just letting up as I made my way back to the kitchen of Abuelo’s and dropped off a pile of dishes to the dishwasher. “Thanks, Manuel,” I said as he took the dishes with a large smile before going back to singing loudly to the song that was in his headphones, something about duele el amor. Love hurts.
Indeed.
But.
Ah, but.
I love you. I always have.
As I cashed out the bills for two tables on the computer, I thought about the day before—the anger and the wonderment. Maybe we need to start again as if it’s the beginning, he’d said. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he meant by that, but what I thought he was saying was, let’s try to let go of the resentment and hostility. Let’s start with a clean slate and attempt to do things the right way, no secrets, no holding back. I wanted that. I’d told him the truth when I’d told him so. But I’d never been forthcoming with my feelings, and I wasn’t sure it was going to be easy. For that matter, he could be the poster boy for the strong, silent type. His thoughts had always been very much his own. I wondered how successful we were going to be.
Still . . .
I love you. I always have.
I smiled, the memory of his words bringing hope and a deep, heart-pounding happiness. And fear. If we messed this up again, I didn’t know if my heart could survive it.
And though I’d pledged to try again, anger simmered inside me when I thought about how Preston and Cole had raced for me all those years ago. What fools. What stupid, selfish fools—especially Cole who had cheated. No, especially Preston who had stood aside because he hadn’t won. How could he? How could he say he loved me yet stepped back because of the results—won fairly or not—of a stupid contest? It made me crazy to think about it, to remember how hurt I’d been when I’d learned that Preston didn’t want me. Or so I’d thought.
I’d almost walked away from him, out of hurt and anger and a rising tide of resentment, but I’d forced myself to turn back, to confront him and tell him exactly how I felt. And although it was difficult, I’d done it, and I’d felt better. So though it wasn’t easy, I was going to try to continue on that route.
Make a fuss, mi amor. Make a fuss.
I brought the checks out to my last two customers and as I was cashing them out, María came up to the computer. “Are those your last tables?”
I moved aside so she could step forward to the computer screen. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to come with us to deliver food? We go to the migrant farmworkers’ camp every Monday. We didn’t go last week because we were held up with that annual food department inspection, so they’ll be looking forward to it.”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Migrant farmworkers’ camp?”