Page 22 of American Sweethearts

Once we were seated, she stabbed a piece of the yellow and brown sweet plantains on her plate and took a bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed, and when she swallowed, she finally looked at me. “I saw it and thought you’d like it, so I got it.”

Period.

I knew enough to not push for more or try to get any ulterior motives out of her.

“I’m glad you made it tonight.”

She took a couple more bites of food before answering. “No matter where things are with us, Rafa’s family.”

I wanted to tell her to enlighten me as to where exactly things were with us. Because I had no idea. We’d gone from barely speaking to a hot as fuck night at the beach to me getting ghosted, and now she was here…with gifts.

My head was spinning a little bit, but I was going to put a positive spin on this thing and keep the lines of communication open. If we were talking, then at least there was a chance for something—what, I didn’t know anymore. But I could not deny sitting here with her, eating a plate of food my mom and I cooked, surrounded by the people we’d known our whole lives, felt pretty perfect.

What she said next had me almost pumping my fist in the air. “Were you serious about my podcast? Do you really think the workshop could work?”

I schooled my expression when I noticed this was far from a casual question. Priscilla was putting her heart out right now. “When have I ever lied to you Priscilla Gutierrez?”

She nodded and picked at her food. My hands itched to lift her chin up. Kiss that sadness away. “Is the offer for a space to do my workshop still open, then?”

“It’s yours whenever you need it.” I bumped her shoulder again, then stabbed a piece of maduro from her plate and popped it into my mouth before she could protest, which, of course, she did anyway. “Hey, get your own plate.” I laughed, as she turned so that the plate was out of my reach.

She pinched my arm softly and looked down at her plate, letting me only catch a glimpse of her smile. “I think I may take you up on it, then.”

I wanted to ask what had brought this on. If she’d been planning to call. If she’d been thinking about what happened between us after the wedding constantly, like I had. I realized then that I wasn’t sure I knew what Priscilla needed like I used to.

I didn’t know what to do with that. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything Icoulddo. We’d changed, both of us, and more than anything, I wanted to tell her that every version of myself, the worst and the best one, still thought she was the most amazing person in my life. That with the wealth of people who loved me, she was still the one I yearned for.

I didn’t tell her though. I was too scared of what she’d say to that confession.

“Is work going all right?”

The lightness in her eyes dimmed a little bit and I wanted to kick myself, but after a moment—like she always did—she regrouped.

“It’s going. We have some tough cases right now.” She frowned at whatever she was remembering, but after a moment, she shook herself and looked up at me with a smile. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but work has been hectic since I got home from the wedding.” She was almost whispering and I kept having to come closer until our heads were almost touching. The plate of food on her lap forgotten.

“Oh.” It was the best I could come up with as my head buzzed, wondering what it was she wanted to tell me. I’d been swimming in what-ifs ever since she’d walked out on me that night. Wondering if I should’ve told her how I felt. Wondering if, like me, she hadn’t stopped thinking about how good we were together, in every way.

My heart pounded at the possibilities. “I just wanted to say?—”

And because every single one of our dearest and nearest was a gigantic pain in the ass, at that very moment, Patrice and Easton decided to come and chat.

“Hey, babe, we haven’t had a chance to talk yet.” Easton sat down next to Pris and gave me an apologetic look. I wanted toget up and pull her by the hand to a quiet place. Instead, I got up to give P dap.

“What’s up man?” I said, trying very hard not to growl at him.

He looked down at his man and Pris, who were already engaged in deep conversation and raised an eyebrow in question. I guess the fact that we’d been sitting together in seemingly friendly conversation was noteworthy.

I shook my head and tried to convey as much as I could that I didn’t want to get into it. Not that Patrice would push. Since he’d gotten more serious with Easton, my closed-off and too-quiet friend had changed a lot, but he hadn’t changed so much he would willingly walk into a conversation about feelings.

I rolled my shoulders and shook my head, this conversation was over, but she’d opened a door with the workshops and I was making sure she knew it would never be closed to her.

chapter fifteen

priscilla

I’d been about to spill my guts to Juan Pablo. I’d actually been about to suggest that we start hanging out again. But it seems like the universe wasn’t up to seeing me start down the road to self-destruction again, so Patrice and Easton interrupted us just at the right moment.

That had been a couple of hours earlier, and now the party was winding down. Easton and Patrice had excused themselves and headed out, claiming they had an early start back to Ithaca. They had to get back because they were leading a community conversation around the school to prison pipeline in Central New York. I smiled thinking how far those two had come and how the things that seemed destined to tear them apart were now a joint passion. They’d found common ground and figured out how to build a life together on it.