“Because she told me, and she didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to worry about her doing something that’ll bring her joy.”
“This is all your fault,” my dad tells Vincent. “You decided everyone needed to get a life outside of work, and now our mother is taking flying lessons.”
Vincent laughs at his brother’s good-natured jab. “I’ll take the blame if it makes her happy.”
“Thank you, Vincent,” Nona says. “I haven’t been this excited about anything in years.”
“That’s sweet, Nona,” Milo says. “I can’t wait to see you fly.”
She smiles lovingly at him. We joke that he’s her favorite. “Thank you, honey.”
“Speaking of getting a life, how’s Mr. Muñoz, Abuela?” Carmen asks.
Abuela gives her a withering look. “Mind your own business.”
“Since when is your business not my business?” Carmen asks with an innocent expression.
“Since she started dating Mr. Muñoz,” I say, earning a scowl from Abuela.
“Where did we go wrong with these children?” Abuela asks our parents. “They’re so impertinent.”
“That's her vocabulary word of the week,” Nona says.
Ever since Carmen’s parents took Abuela and her sister back to Cuba for a visit that’d broken their hearts, Abuela has been determined to speak only English. She’s accepted she’s never going “home” again.
“It’s funny how it’s impertinence when we want to know her business, but it’s not impertinence when she wants to know ours,” Maria says, making everyone laugh.
“Talk about someone else.” Abuela waves her hand. “Nothing to see here.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Jason says.
“And here I thought I liked you,” Abuela says, making us howl with laughter.
The family leaves around eight with promises to be back tomorrow after brunch to help us finish unpacking. I head for the shower with every muscle in my body aching after working nonstop for most of the day.
When I emerge from the shower, I find a gift bag on the counter that Wyatt must’ve put there. I look around the corner into the bedroom, but I don’t see him. There’s a card in the bag that I open first. It says, “Congratulations on your new home! May you know only love and joy as you make new memories.”
We’re so, so, SO happy for you and Wyatt, and we wanted to help you enjoy your first night in your new home. We love you so much, and we’re thrilled to have you here with us where you belong! Love you both! Car and Mari
I have tears in my eyes as I pull the tissue paper out of the gift bag to find a sexy silk nightgown in the palest shade of pink, a scented candle and a bottle of champagne.
My girls are the best, and I couldn’t be happier to be living close to them again. I put on the nightgown and bring the candle and champagne with me into the bedroom where I find another gift, this one a big white box with a red ribbon on it.
“Wyatt?”
He comes into the bedroom and stops short at the sight of me standing next to the bed, his eyes gone hot with desire. “What have we here?”
I strike a pose. “This old thing? Just a gift from my sister and cousin.”
Walking toward me, he flashes the warm, sexy grin I love so much. “Have I mentioned how much I adore your sister and cousin?”
“I do, too. They also gave us this yummy-smelling candle and a bottle of champagne.”
He kisses me. “Stay put. I need to grab a shower, and then I’ll find a lighter and some glasses.”
“What’s in that box?”
Over his shoulder, he says, “You’ll have to open it to find out.”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
He stops and turns to me, looking at me in a way that makes my knees go weak. “Please, Dee. You’ve given me everything.”
“Right back atcha.”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you.”
After he goes into the bathroom to shower, I push the box toward the center of the bed and discover it’s lighter than expected. I get into bed and wait for him, taking a look around at the big, beautiful room we’ll share. I can’t believe this is my home, that this is my life, that he is my life.
While I have a second to myself, I decide to read Marcus’s letter. Not that it matters what he has to say, but since he took the time to write it, the least I can do is read it. His familiar handwriting takes me right back in time to when I thought I was going to spend my life with him.
Dee,
I’m sorry. If I say that a million times, it still won’t be enough. I’m deeply, profoundly sorry for what I did to you and us with my thoughtless behavior. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I’m in rehab, getting treatment for what became full-blown alcoholism over the last few years. And yes, I hid that from you. I never wanted you to know how messed up I was. I’m trying to fix that now and also trying to accept that I can never fix the mess I made with you, the most precious person in my life.
I’m sorry for what I did, that you had to hear it from others and that I never reached out to you. I was so appalled and ashamed of myself that I couldn’t bring myself to contact you. I was a coward, Dee. I couldn’t bear to know how badly I must’ve hurt you.
I heard you met someone else, and you’re happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. I hope if we see each other again someday, we can be friends or at least be cordial. That might be more than I deserve, but I’ll hope for it anyway.
Please accept my apology and know that I love you very much. I always will.
Marcus
I’m deeply moved by his heartfelt words and relieved to hear directly from him about how he feels about me and what happened. It doesn’t change anything, but it’s nice to hear after all this time. I put the letter in my bedside drawer and return my focus to the present, where it belongs.
Ten minutes later, Wyatt comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Stand by for fire and glass.”
“Standing by.”
He returns with the glasses and a fire striker we bought when we went to Home Depot for batteries, trash cans and other household necessities. While he opens the champagne, I light the “Home Sweet Home” candle that puts out a sweet, spicy scent.
Wyatt sits on the edge of the bed and hands me a glass. “Here’s to home sweet home and happily ever after.”
I touch my glass to his, more than willing to drink to that.
He surprises me when he takes a sip of champagne.
“Are you breaking another rule?”
“Just one sip to be polite.” He puts his glass on the table and takes mine to put it next to his. “Open your present.”
I reach for the box and bring it toward me. “When did you do this?”
“The other night when I had to ‘work late.’”
“Ah, so you’re already lying to me, huh?”