down the hallway to his parents’ large apartment. “What if they don’t like me?” she suddenly blurted out.
“They already love you.” He squeezed her hand back. “Why are you so nervous?”
Because you matter. More than any man has ever mattered. Part of Thea kept waiting for something to go horribly wrong. “We’re here,” she said and knocked on the door before she chickened out.
It was pulled open a few seconds later by Mrs. Rivera. Dark-eyed and dark-haired and as petite as Thea’s own mom, the older woman took one look at them and, crying out in open glee, hugged Thea, then kissed David on both cheeks. “At last you bring home a girl!” she said, her hands on either side of his face as he bent toward her. “And you bring home my favorite girl of all!”
David laughed. “Thea was nervous you wouldn’t like her.”
“David!” Thea elbowed him.
Beaming, Mrs. Rivera released his face and took Thea’s hand. “Come inside.” The vibrant yellow of her dress swirled around her knees. “His pa’s just taking the rolls out of the oven. Vicente!”
Mr. Rivera came out of the kitchen, a big, solid man with salt-and-pepper hair and David’s eyes. “There you are,” he said, as if Thea had just popped out for a minute.
She was engulfed in his embrace an instant later, his scent holding echoes of cinnamon and other spices, the way he held her so reminiscent of her father’s hugs that her remaining nerves faded. “Thanks for having me to lunch,” she said to them both afterward.
“Pfft.” Mrs. Rivera flicked a dish towel at her, having had it hanging over her shoulder. “Come into the kitchen with me. We’ll leave David and Vicente to talk.”
Walking into the spacious room painted in warm cream tones with accents of deep, autumnal orange, Thea said, “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Just stay here and talk to me.” Mrs. Rivera stirred something on the stove. “David’s favorite chili.” Her eyes twinkled. “So, you finally took notice of my boy.”
Skin flushing, Thea leaned back against the counter, hands braced on it. “I always noticed him,” she admitted. “I just… wasn’t in the right place to do anything about it.”
“Ah, the other one, hmm?” Alicia Rivera shook her head and went over to toss a bowl of salad sitting farther down the counter that held the tempered black glass of the built-in stovetop. “I had one like him before David’s father. I still haven’t forgiven Vicente for not finding me first, but he says I had to go through the other one so I’d appreciate him.”
Thea felt her lips curve. “David is wonderful.” Then, because Mrs. Rivera reminded her so much of her own mom, said, “For us, it’ll be about surviving the world around us.”
The other woman’s expression grew solemn. “Yes. Always people poking and prodding and prying.” Switching off the stove, she walked over to Thea and took her face in her hands, her palms warm and soft. “This is good, what I see in your eyes when you look at David, what I see in his when he looks at you. Fight for it.”
Throat thick, Thea nodded. “I will.” With every breath she had.
Mrs. Rivera drew her down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, Thea. Let’s get this food out.”
Conversation flowed so comfortably throughout the simple, delicious lunch that Thea stopped watching her tongue, stopped thinking about the right things to say, and just said what came naturally.
“You know this boy?” Vicente Rivera pointed at David with part of a bread roll. “You know what he did when he was eighteen?”
“Dad.” David groaned. “Thea doesn’t need to know about that.”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” Thea said, laughing at David’s quelling look.
“Here, Thea.” Mrs. Rivera put more chili in her bowl. “Eat it. It’s good for you.”
Smiling, Thea accepted the maternal order. “Thank you.”
“So,” Vicente Rivera said, one arm on the back of his wife’s chair, “he comes
“They already love you.” He squeezed her hand back. “Why are you so nervous?”
Because you matter. More than any man has ever mattered. Part of Thea kept waiting for something to go horribly wrong. “We’re here,” she said and knocked on the door before she chickened out.
It was pulled open a few seconds later by Mrs. Rivera. Dark-eyed and dark-haired and as petite as Thea’s own mom, the older woman took one look at them and, crying out in open glee, hugged Thea, then kissed David on both cheeks. “At last you bring home a girl!” she said, her hands on either side of his face as he bent toward her. “And you bring home my favorite girl of all!”
David laughed. “Thea was nervous you wouldn’t like her.”
“David!” Thea elbowed him.
Beaming, Mrs. Rivera released his face and took Thea’s hand. “Come inside.” The vibrant yellow of her dress swirled around her knees. “His pa’s just taking the rolls out of the oven. Vicente!”
Mr. Rivera came out of the kitchen, a big, solid man with salt-and-pepper hair and David’s eyes. “There you are,” he said, as if Thea had just popped out for a minute.
She was engulfed in his embrace an instant later, his scent holding echoes of cinnamon and other spices, the way he held her so reminiscent of her father’s hugs that her remaining nerves faded. “Thanks for having me to lunch,” she said to them both afterward.
“Pfft.” Mrs. Rivera flicked a dish towel at her, having had it hanging over her shoulder. “Come into the kitchen with me. We’ll leave David and Vicente to talk.”
Walking into the spacious room painted in warm cream tones with accents of deep, autumnal orange, Thea said, “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Just stay here and talk to me.” Mrs. Rivera stirred something on the stove. “David’s favorite chili.” Her eyes twinkled. “So, you finally took notice of my boy.”
Skin flushing, Thea leaned back against the counter, hands braced on it. “I always noticed him,” she admitted. “I just… wasn’t in the right place to do anything about it.”
“Ah, the other one, hmm?” Alicia Rivera shook her head and went over to toss a bowl of salad sitting farther down the counter that held the tempered black glass of the built-in stovetop. “I had one like him before David’s father. I still haven’t forgiven Vicente for not finding me first, but he says I had to go through the other one so I’d appreciate him.”
Thea felt her lips curve. “David is wonderful.” Then, because Mrs. Rivera reminded her so much of her own mom, said, “For us, it’ll be about surviving the world around us.”
The other woman’s expression grew solemn. “Yes. Always people poking and prodding and prying.” Switching off the stove, she walked over to Thea and took her face in her hands, her palms warm and soft. “This is good, what I see in your eyes when you look at David, what I see in his when he looks at you. Fight for it.”
Throat thick, Thea nodded. “I will.” With every breath she had.
Mrs. Rivera drew her down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, Thea. Let’s get this food out.”
Conversation flowed so comfortably throughout the simple, delicious lunch that Thea stopped watching her tongue, stopped thinking about the right things to say, and just said what came naturally.
“You know this boy?” Vicente Rivera pointed at David with part of a bread roll. “You know what he did when he was eighteen?”
“Dad.” David groaned. “Thea doesn’t need to know about that.”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” Thea said, laughing at David’s quelling look.
“Here, Thea.” Mrs. Rivera put more chili in her bowl. “Eat it. It’s good for you.”
Smiling, Thea accepted the maternal order. “Thank you.”
“So,” Vicente Rivera said, one arm on the back of his wife’s chair, “he comes
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