Page 24 of American Sweethearts

I made a noise that would have to suffice as an acknowledgement and distracted myself by talking with my dad about their plans for the week and what route they were taking up to Ithaca. The drop-off involved long goodbyes and requests for J to come up and visit soon. As if this development of me and J driving off with his parents’ dogs to his place was nothing noteworthy.

chapter sixteen

priscilla

We didn’t talk much. Once I’d let my parents into my building and Juan Pablo was comfortably in the front seat with Tita and Pepe yapping their little fool heads in the back, we headed to his place in almost complete silence. All the way there I had a feeling I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Not exactly comfortable, but not unpleasant either. It was a new kind of being together.

I wanted him—I always did—but I didn’t feel helpless to it, and that made a difference.

When I took the turn that led to his fancy ass condo, he finally spoke. “You want to come up for a drink?”

It was casual, no innuendo. No suggestive tone. A friend asking another to come up to his place for a nightcap after an evening of a lot of family time. I’d pulled into one of the spots of the guest parking lot and looked up at the tall tower where J lived now. There was a lot of glass and metal and the view of the Hudson had to be amazing.

I took my time to answer. “How far up are you?”

His top lip twitched and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or just laughing at my lame ass attempt to avoid giving him an answer. “I’m on the twelfth floor. I bought early so I got one of the units with a view of the river. It’s pretty baller. I have some prosecco in the fridge.”

I laughed at his cajoling tone. He knew all my weaknesses. I didn’t get more time to think about it because Tita and Pepe started bitching again and made the decision for me.

“Just for a minute. It is kind of ridiculous that I haven’t seen your place yet.”

He’d been in it almost two years. At another time, it would’ve seemed impossible for Juan Pablo to be living anywhere were I wasn’t present. A home of his that wasn’t at least partly my own.

I got out of the car and helped J get the dogs out the carrier and on their leashes, so we could let them do their business before going up to his apartment. They were old hats at apartment life, so within a few minutes, we were on the elevator with freshly relieved fluff balls.

“Sorry about Mamí,” I said. “She doesn’t take a day off, ever.”

He laughed and gave me a long look that I couldn’t figure out. That was another thing that happened in these last two years and with this new version of Juan Pablo. He was mysterious and so very calm. Nothing riled him up.

“It’s fine. You know I have mad love for Maritza; besides, Irene isn’t any better.”

This was true, between my mother and his, it was hard to tell who was thirstier for us to get together.

“I was happy she suggested it. I’ve been meaning to invite you over to see my place.” Just as he said that, the elevator doors opened and we walked into a well-lit hallway lined with white doors.

It was nice.Reallynice.

I knew his grandfather had promised all his grandkids he’d help them buy their own place when they were ready, and that old man never let his family down.

“This is really bougie, J. You fancy.” My tone was light, but his cheeks flushed.

We got to the last apartment at the end of the hall with Tita and Pepe getting more and more excited the closer we got. He laughed when they started circling around by the door.

“They stay over sometimes, so they’ve got a ton of toys and shit in here. They think this place is their vacation spot.”

“Wow, so this is what you get up to on the weekends these days. How the mighty fall, Juan Pablo Campos.”

“Damn, Pris, you’re savage.” He laughed as he ran a hand over his fade, a flush of red staining his cheeks. “I do the parents a solid when they want to have some alone time. These little fuckers keep putting scratches on my hardwood floors, too.” I laughed as the toy-sized dogs ran into the apartment with us close behind.

I stepped in and had to take a deep breath.

“J.” I moved to put down my bag and with my jacket still on, turned around the room, words failing me. What I was seeing was nothing that anyone else would find remotely remarkable, but I was having a hard time controlling my emotions. I looked at the wall-to-wall bookshelves on one side of the room. The blown-up photographs I’d taken on our many trips back to DR and PR, and others from trips we’d taken together to Kenya and Ecuador, all hanging from a bright yellow wall. He even had the leather armchairs with a little table in between.

Just like we’d always talked about.

Like we’d said we’d set up our forever place. A big room with books, art, and a comfortable spot to read together.

He let me look around in silence as he leaned against the mantel of his gas fireplace. It wasn’t a huge room, but there were floor-to-ceiling windows facing the Hudson. I could imagine how great it would be to drink my morning coffee from one of those chairs with J next to me.