“Hector! I’m loaded! What am I going to do with my money but spend it on friends?”
He got up on his elbow, Mr. Mood Swing fully morphed into anger and faced me. “I don’t know,” he clipped. “Save it? Put our kids through college with it? If tonight was anything to go by, we’ll need it to pay for their goddamned weddings. Fuck, knowin’ you, we’ll need every last penny to pay for ours.”
My breath went out of me in a whoosh.
Then it came back on a surge.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“You heard me,” he shot back.
I sat up and looked down at him. “Are you asking me marry you?”
He sat up and faced me. “Are you shittin’ me?”
I blinked.
Then I said, “No.”
“What do you think we’re doin’ here? Playin’ house?”
I blinked again.
“Christ, Sadie,” he clipped. “Look at my fuckin’ arm.”
I looked but I didn’t have to. He’d had the rose tattooed there months ago, within weeks of me moving in.
It was extraordinary, the stem, the leaves, the petals all exquisitely drawn and filled in with vibrant colors. It had taken two goes, the outline first then, weeks later, after that healed, the filling in.
My heart fluttered then my belly fluttered then I whispered, “Hector –”
“What’d we get Hank and Roxie?” he ground out, interrupting me.
I decided just to answer and get it over with.
“It didn’t cost as much as the kitchen,” I told him.
“What’d we get?” he repeated.
“Nowhere near as much as the kitchen,” I said for good measure.
He gave me The Scorch.
I sighed.
“We bought them a full set of Mikasa china.”
Hector just kept giving me The Scorch.
“Twelve place settings,” I went on.
He continued The Scorch.
“And… um… serving dishes.”
More Scorch.
“And their silver.”
Still more Scorch.
“With the hostess set.”
More Scorch.
“That’s it,” I finished.
He dropped to his back, muttering, “Dios mio.”
I pulled my lips in then my hands went back to my hair and I yanked out the rest of the pins.
While I did this, Hector laid with the back of his arm over his eyes, the rose tattoo on full display.
I shook my fingers through my hair then leaned into him, reaching to the nightstand, I dropped the pins on it and then settled with my chest on his.
“Hector,” I called.
Silence and no movement.
“Maybe we should…” I hesitated, not sure if now was the right time, “talk about what I did for Christmas.”
All of a sudden, he moved, his arms went around me, I was on my back, he was on top.
“I hope you got your energy back, mamita, because you owe me for this,” he announced, displaying, again, very bizarre Hector Logic then his face disappeared in my neck.
His tongue touched below my ear, I did a casual back flip in the lovely warm waters where I cavorted now in my life as a happy mermaid, my arms went around him and I smiled at the ceiling.
*
Early Christmas morning, the doorbell rang.
Since I’d been up for the last hour waiting for it, I was awake and immediately rolled out of bed.
“I got it, mamita,” Hector muttered, rolling out the other side.
I ignored him and put on my panties.
“Sadie, I got it,” Hector repeated and I looked at him as I shrugged on one of his flannels. He had on a pair of rust-colored, drawstring sweatpants, the hems loose instead of gathered around his ankles.
I pulled on a pair of heathered gray, fleecy shorts with notches at the hips while Hector yanked on a black thermal.
I also, by the way, pulled in my lips.
Hector stopped dressing and stared at me.
Then he put his hands to his hips.
“What have you done?” he asked.
The doorbell rang again.
I dashed out of the bedroom.
Hector followed a lot slower but since his legs were also longer, he caught up to me at the foot of the stairs and pulled me behind him. I got close as he walked to the door, unlocked it and tugged it open.
I peeked around Hector’s body.
Jack stood there.
“Hi, Jack,” I said. “Merry Christmas.”
Jack’s eyes came to me and then (no kidding!), he winked.
Then his hand came up and he held out a set of keys to Hector.
Hector looked at the keys then at Jack.
Jack jerked his head to the street where a brand new, shiny, black GMC Yukon was parked behind Hector’s Bronco.
When Hector didn’t take the keys, Jack tossed them in the air and Hector’s hand shot out and caught them. Jack grinned at me, turned, walked across the porch, down the steps and to the car parked behind the Yukon. Jack’s girlfriend, Melinda (one of Smithie’s strippers, Jack was the only Nightingale man who didn’t care if his girlfriend stripped), was sitting in the front seat waving at us, a big, goofy grin on her face.
I waved back.
Jack got into the driver’s side and took off.
Hector closed the door.
Then, slowly, he turned to me.
I got one look at his face and started backing up, across the platform then down the steps.
“It’s really for me,” I told him.
He advanced.