“Yes. That’s … cute.”
“Great. I’m cute. Come on in. I actually just turned on the kettle. Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee is fine. Thanks.”
She stepped out of her shoes and lined them up with his to the side of the door, then followed him deeper into the hotel room, to the combined kitchen and living room. It was neat and uncluttered. Hand-drawn pictures hung on the refrigerator, and framed pictures of the girls were sprinkled everywhere in the room. Two teddy bears sat atop an armchair. A family apartment at first glance, although he was, for all intents and purposes, a bachelor.
She hopped up on the barstool and faced him as he busied himself with a French press.
“What are you reading?” She spied a second book on the kitchen counter.
“A thriller. The gruesome kind.”
“Tough guy.”
“Don’t you forget it.” The kettle whistled and he turned off the stove. “Lolo Tony was a reader and it was our thing. He gave me books as presents. Along with hands-on work, he called reading true education. Though I read many genres, I prefer fiction. Even romance.”
“Really?” Her lips wiggled into a grin. There was a soft spot in him.
“Is that weird?”
“No.” She scoured her mind, thinking of her own book selections. “I read across genres, too, but mostly nonfiction.”
“I am not at all surprised.” He poured the hot water into the French press, grinning. “With you being a fan of the truth.”
“And by you reading romance, you believe … what?”
“What else? But in a happily-ever-after.” The nutty scent of java filled the room, and Joshua prepared their cups.
In the silence, Diana mulled over what the words happily ever after meant and in what context.
“Join me on the couch?” he said, finally, and she followed.
The coffee was a surprisingly welcome treat after the day she’d had. It grounded her from her overconsumption of champagne, from her heavy heart with the newfound letters.
“Don’t you believe in a happily-ever-after?” He turned his body to her and slung his arm over the back of the couch. “I assume that’s why you’re so quiet.”
“Oh, ah …” Caught by his sudden question, she shook her head. “No. I mean, in response to your question, I’d have to ask if there’s really such a thing? Life is comprised of hills and valleys. Triumphs interspersed with lows. Isn’t a happily-ever-after a happenstance, or when one decides to take a snapshot of their life while standing on a hill?”
He leaned back into the couch. “That is fatalistic.”
“I’m not being fatalistic, Joshua. It’s realistic. Of course we all live for the hills. I’m just saying that not all stories end on a high note, and even if they do, it doesn’t mean it’ll last. I mean, look at all this, what’s happened to us. To both of us. Where would you say we are in this drama called the Cruz Family?” At his silence, she took a sip of her coffee. “Obviously I’m in a valley, since I’m hanging out with you.” She raised an eyebrow to punctuate her joke.
“Hey, I didn’t force you to come to my door.”
Her cheeks warmed, properly put in her place. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “But I’m happy you came.” He paused. “I’d been meaning to say that I’m sorry. At the gym, then at my lola’s house earlier in the day, I was rude.…”
“No, it was me.”
“I was trying to reconcile who you were—are—with that night.”
As his face dipped down minutely, a section of his hair flopped forward over his forehead, reminding her of him on top of her, seconds from sex. A thrill ran through her with the memory. She looked away from him. “Same. And we’re on the same side.”
“Same family actually,” he half laughed.
“That’s right.” And, wanting to move on from the awkwardness, she said, “So, the briefcase …”
“Can you share what’s in it?”
“Documents and letters from my grandmother to Antonio. Seeing proof from this end—that the connection was real—I’m not going to lie: I was stunned by it. As if the DNA test weren’t enough.”
“Did the letters give you answers?”
“Not totally. But they were heartbreaking.” Pairing the letters together, Diana could have imagined their correspondence, both bent over their pieces of paper, hopes and dreams laid out in the words they wrote. Still, they didn’t tell a complete story. “My mom—I don’t think she really gets it. She read all of them with this stoic face, like it’s not seeping in.”
“Give her some time. It hasn’t sunk in with me, either. It’s a lot to process.”
“Time isn’t the problem. It’s about my mother’s ability or desire to face issues, to make decisions. Did you know that if I hadn’t insisted that we come here, to Manila, this reunion wouldn’t have happened? It’s the same with a million other things.” Just saying it unnerved her, and at the next second she admonished herself. It was unbecoming of her to talk ill of her mother.
She pushed herself higher on the couch.
“You’re going?” He sat up.
“Yeah. Speaking of my mom, she’s probably wondering where I’ve gone.” A lie—her mother was sound asleep. This little coffee break with Joshua had been perfect. Until now, when unease had taken over her once again, fueled by caffeine. She had to get out of there before she got angry, upset, or maybe cried, which would be a disaster.
“Look, I love my mom, despite all I’ve said. I don’t want you to get it twisted. Anyway, thank you for the coffee and the chat.”
Diana moved to the door, with Joshua following behind her. Before he turned the knob, he said. “Um, so tomorrow, the Corregidor tour—still a go?”
She sighed, her mind cluttered. “Yes, we’re still on. It will be a great distraction before seeing Flora tomorrow.”
“Great.”
Diana turned from the door. She took two steps and halted, just as he shut it. It could have been attraction, or need for comfort, or this surge of energy, but it felt one and the same.
She didn’t want to go.
She turned to face the door. Her right hand tingled with the temptation to knock.
The door opened, as if reading her mind. Then Joshua opened the door wider. An invitation.
It would be her decision.
Logic and emotion warred within her. What exactly did she want? What was holding her back? What did she have to lose?
Nothing. She had nothing to lose, because what she thought was real had revealed itself as a facade.
She crossed the threshold and crushed her mouth to his. Their clothes fell by the wayside as they stepped out of socks and pants, and as shirts were peeled off. Without breaking their kiss, he walked her backward to the bed, and she perched on the soft blanket still in her underwear. She helped him out of his, the sight of him taking her breath away. She lay back, and he, in one swift movement, slid her panties down and off, and she gasped in surprise, in pleasure.
It wouldn’t be the last time that night.