“This is amazing,” Cora says as we step into my parents’ backyard. It’s been transformed into the perfect spot to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary. Food overflows from the buffet table, music plays through a set of speakers, and all of my family members enter from the side gate dressed in their Sunday best.
My parents mingle with a few of their closest friends, and every relative I’ve ever met fill the tables as conversations lift above the music in a steady chatter. I slide a pair of noise reducing headphones over David’s ears, as Cora hands him his favorite toy truck. The distraction works enough for him to leave them on.
I spot my sisters gathered around the keg. “Let’s grab a drink,” I say to Cora and take David’s hand.
“Who’s that?” Cora asks.
My brows furrow as I follow her stare. The guy next to Marlena stands out in this crowd with his light skin and hair. Add in the polo shirt and khakis, and he’s drawn the attention of half my family. He leans down to whisper in Marlena’s ear, his hand resting at her back in an almost possessive way. What the hell? She has a boyfriend and brought him without warning? I almost laugh aloud. My tías are gonna have a heyday with this bit of gossip.
Not to my surprise, my aunts reach the keg just as we do, their radar for fresh meat impeccable.
“Hey.” Becca shoots me a conspiratorial grin. Her longtime friend Nick lifts his hand in a wave.
“Becca.” Linda, my mom’s oldest sister, gives her a hug and kiss, then turns to Marlena for the same. “Lena. Good to see you, sweetheart.” She greets us next. “Isaac. Your little guy is getting so big! And Cora. We saw your movie last weekend.” She fans herself. “So steamy!”
Tía Bianca follows behind, greeting everyone with hugs and kisses before turning to Marlena. “And you, keeping secrets? Introduce us to your boyfriend!”
Marlena shakes her head. “He’s—”
“I’m Blake.” He holds out his hand with a wide smile.
“Marlena got herself a man?” Becca whispers, but we all hear her. “When did that happen?”
Marlena glares at Becca.
Blake clears his throat and glances around uncomfortably.
“Make him a plate, Marlena,” Bianca demands.
“Oh, she doesn’t have to.” Blake says. “I can—”
Marlena’s glare silences his next words. “I’ll be right back.” She huffs and stomps toward the growing buffet line. Food my mamá and tías have no doubt spent all weekend preparing.
“Oh, she’s pissed!” Becca laughs.
“You too.” Linda points at Becca before nodding to her friend Nick. “Make him a plate. Your mother raised you with manners.”
“But Nick isn’t my boyfriend.” Becca grins, rolling her eyes. I detect a glimmer of disappointment on Nick’s face. My sister laughs again, this time poking him in the ribs. “Can you imagine?”
“Yeah.” He laughs but there’s no real humor in it. Poor Nick. He’s way too nice—and reserved—for my sister, yet he obviously harbors a crush.
“Come on.” Becca nods and they both head toward the food line.
“Let me . . .” I glance at my tías expectant stares and then to Cora.
“Stay. I got it.” She presses her hand along my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. I should be making a plate for her, but she doesn’t mind. “I’ll get you a little of everything. David too.”
“Thanks.” I press my lips to her cheek before she leaves. My aunts go on about how good Cora is to me—a sentiment in which I absolutely agree. I’m left standing next to Marlena’s— “Who are you again?”
“I’m Blake. Your sister and I met, uh, during a work thing.” He’s a big dude, must be into weight training, but he acts nervous as hell. Won’t hold my gaze. Hands squeezing into fists. Popping his knuckles. It’d be comical if I didn’t feel bad for the guy. My older sister is a handful, and she totally abandoned him. “She’s helping me out with some, uh, stuff.”
I feel obligated to make small talk so he’s not subjected to my tías’ interrogation. “You’re one of the doctors at the clinic?”
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I don’t work at the clinic.”
“The restaurant, then?” He’s got to be a bouncer, or one of the bartenders. I still haven’t been by the upscale place she serves at most weekends.
“Sorry. No.” His face flushes and he shakes his head. “I’m a firefighter.”
My brow furrows, trying to make the connection.
Linda and Bianca whisper next to us, their gossip not loud enough to overhear.
“Beer?” He points at the keg.
“Yeah.” I grab two disposable cups from the small table and hand him one. “Thanks.” He fills one for me, one for Cora, and then reaches for another for himself, almost as if he’d rather play bartender than engage in conversation. Hell, I don’t blame him. Our family is intimidating to any newcomer.
“Here.” My sister returns and shoves a plate at Blake.
“Thank you,” he says much too kindly considering her scowl. He notices the absence of her own plate. “Did you want to share?”
My tías coo approvingly. Oh, he just racked up major points. Not that Lena cares what they think.
“No.” Marlena crinkles her nose, as if his offer to share food offends her. “Lost my appetite.” She heaves out another sigh. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
My aunts glance at each other with raised brows. One even tsks as Blake follows my sister inside.
“She should be out here for the party,” Bianca says to Linda. “Not sneaking off with some boy.”
I try not to roll my eyes. My sister is almost thirty, and Blake appears the same. They aren’t some hormonal teenagers. This is exactly why Lena’s never brought a guy to a family event. Blake must be important to her in some way given the interrogation she’ll undergo by my mamá and her sisters later.
“I’m going to say hi to my parents.” I wave at my tías, then walk with David across the yard.
“Happy anniversary, lovebirds,” I say.
“You all made it!” My mamá hugs David, a quick squeeze, and then pulls me in for a much longer one.
“Son.” Papá embraces me next with a sturdy pat to my back.
“David’s okay? This isn’t too loud for him?” Mamá fusses in her usual way. I’m so grateful for parents who have acknowledged and embraced my son’s diagnosis, but sometimes she worries a little too much.
“He’s fine.” I chuckle. “I have his iPad in the truck if he needs a break. We’re good. Don’t worry.”
“I always worry.” She smiles back, but doesn’t argue.
“So, thirty years.” I try to imagine what it would be like to celebrate such a momentous anniversary. I’ve had less than a year with Cora and I pray we never end. Each day is a gift. Every moment a treasure. Even now, as I glance across the yard and find her in line for food, chatting it up with one of my cousins, tipping her head back to laugh in that genuine way she does, she fills my soul with so much joy. Does my father feel that way about my mom after thirty years? Or does love evolve into something deeper? A comfort, safe space, and home. “What’s your secret?”