That makes him laugh, and I know he doesn’t give a shit about smudged lipstick. Our love is nothing if not ravenous.
“Lead the way.” He takes my hand, and we walk to the front door. “This place is really nice. It’s your brother’s?”
“He just bought it.” My stomach is flying and falling as I do this. It’s so ridiculous, but it’s the first time I’ve ever brought a boy to meet my family, and Deacon’s not exactly a traditional boy. For starters, he’s a man. A rich man. A rich, white man…
He’s not one of us.
“I always thought your family didn’t have money.”
“So did I.” Reaching out, my fingers tremble, and he sees it. He puts his hand over mine, and lifts it to his lips. “Why are you afraid?”
“I’m not.” It’s a total lie. “It’s a big night for my cousin.” My voice is quiet, and I’m not sure I can say the words. “Promise me…”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“If things get weird, will you trust me? Will you do whatever I ask?” I don’t know what to expect when we walk through this door, and I can’t shake a sense of foreboding.
Deacon pulls me against his chest, wrapping strong arms around me. “I’ll do whatever you ask, my love.”
A quick kiss to my nose, and he releases me.
I square my shoulders and walk through the door. I’m bringing the enemy to make peace.
7
Deacon
Beto’s house is like something out of my world, a stone McMansion in a wealthy, gated community north of town. The joyful blast of culture that greets us as we walk through the door is very different, but I like it.
A lot.
Inside the vast, open downstairs, white twinkle lights wrap around indoor trees and over the curtains, and a DJ plays dance music at the far end of the great room.
A group of teens cluster in a circle on a makeshift dance floor. The girls are wearing floor-length gowns in vibrant colors, and they clap and laugh at the tuxedo-clad boys showing off their moves. When a familiar pop song starts, they erupt into cheers.
Everyone is smiling and talking, hugging and dancing, eating cake, drinking drinks. It puts me at ease, and my fingers tighten around Angel’s. I give her a gentle tug, pulling her against my chest and sliding my hand along her lower back.
“We should dance.” My lips brush the shell of her ear and her shoulder rises.
Leaning down, I brush the tip of my nose along her neck, giving her a brief kiss, wanting to pull her lips to mine.
She looks like a walking wet dream in her long green silk dress. The neck exposes the curve of her soft breasts making me hungry, possessive, and ready to fight off anybody who looks at her. Not to mention the slit up the front, exposing her gorgeous legs.
“Carmie!”
Her body tenses and steps away from me. “Hey, baby!”
I’m confused, looking around when Angel sweeps a little girl onto her hip. She looks a lot like my girl, with large amber eyes and soft wavy hair hanging down her back. She’s wearing a dress like the teens on the dance floor, but hers is fluffy and little-girlie.
“I’ve been waiting for you all night.” The little girl crosses her arms and a rosebud lip pokes out in a pout. She’s adorable.
Angel leans closer, kissing her small nose. “I just walked through the door, sugar puss. I think you’re getting sleepy.”
“I am not!” The little girl shoots her arm up, pumping a fist over her head. “I’m ready to dance all night!”
That makes Angel laugh, and I step closer, tapping her on the shoulder. “Who do we have here?”
Angel looks up at me, adoration shining in her eyes. “This is Sofia, my littlest cousin.”
“I’m not little.” Sofia’s brows pull together. “I’m four.”
“Wow.” I step back, putting my hand on my chest. “Think you might dance with me after while?”
Her eyes widen, and she looks to the side like she’s considering my request. I think I might adore her, too. “I don’t know. You’re a stranger.”
“Sorry. My name is Deacon. I’m a friend of Angel’s.”
“Who’s Angel?” Her nose scrunches, and she looks around.
Angel leans close, pretending to whisper. “Deacon calls me Angel. It’s short for Angelica.”
“Oh…” Sofia leans towards me like she’s telling me a secret. “We all call her Carmie. Except sometimes mamma calls her Carmelita.”
“I’ve heard that.” I make a face like of course she’s right. Then I hold out my hands. “What do you say? Will you spare me a dance?”
“I guess so.” She reaches for my hands, and I put her on my hip, swaying to the beat of the song. Angel watches us with shining eyes, and I lean towards my little partner. “I think you look like Angel.”
“Her hair’s more curly. I wish mine was more curly.”
“You’re beautiful.” Angel puts her hand on Sofia’s back.
The song ends, and we hear a woman’s voice calling her name. We all look around, and Sofia’s head drops back.
She exhales dramatically. “Mamma’s taking another picture.”
She hops down and runs across the floor in the direction of the teens, and I step closer to Angel, putting my hand on her waist. “She’s a doll. She looks like she could be yours.”
“Well, I was in the room when she was born.” Angel’s chin lifts, and she smiles up at me. “That’s one relative down…”
“The rest of the party to go.” I’m about to kiss her, when a friendly voice interrupts us. “What do we have here?”
Lourdes trots up in a filmy black pantsuit that swishes around her legs and arms when she moves. She gives Angel a hug and a kiss on the cheek before holding out her arm to me.
“You are wearing that suit, sir. You know that?” She rises on tiptoes to give me a hug, and I shake my head.
“Great party.”
She holds Angel’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Our girl here did pretty much all the heavy lifting. She even made the quince’s dress.”
My eyebrows rise, and I quickly scan the room. “Which one is that?”
Lourdes steps closer pointing at the group of teens. “The one in the middle. Tiara, burgundy ball gown.”
I see a girl in an elaborate dress with a tiered skirt and gold embellishment from the waist to the strapless top. “You made that?” Angel’s cheeks flush as she looks down. I pull her against my chest, kissing her nose. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“It’s nothing.” Angel blinks away, glancing over her shoulder again.
Her eyes flicker around the room, and I wish she wasn’t so edgy. I’m ready to meet her family and turn on all the charm, tell them the extent of my feelings for this girl at my side, all the things I have planned for us.
“You picked a good time to spring the gringo on the family.” Lourdes gives her a playful elbow to the side. “Nobody’s going to cause a scene at Lo’s party.”
“I hope you’re right.” Angel’s lips tighten, and I don’t really like being the fly in the buttermilk. Or however that goes.