Her Perfect Affair

by Priscilla Oliveras

  Despite Dr. Jiménez’s orders that she not overtax herself, Rosa refused to disappoint her students by postponing or canceling the event.

  “I’d be honored to read your piece.” Rosa slid off the stool, her stomach roiling in protest. She swallowed, pushing away the discomfort, then circled the length of the checkout counter. “Is this the one you were working on before the Thanksgiving break?”

  “A new version actually. I was inspired by one of the spoken-word artists you mentioned at our last Poetry Club meeting.”

  A thrill lit through Rosa like a July Fourth sparkler. “¡Ay que bueno!”

  “Pues, not so good if you ask my mamá.” Carlotta scowled, her mouth puckering before she explained. “I was watching one of the performances on YouTube and Mamá walked by my room. My fault for not closing my door.”

  “¿Por qué?”

  “Because she wasn’t too thrilled with some of the language.”

  Rosa’s hand stilled on the back of the chair she’d been about to pull out. “Language? What do you mean? I reviewed all the pieces before recommending them. None of them were inappropriate.”

  “Oh, I know, but I started clicking around and came across the over-eighteen page.”

  “Por favor, tell me you didn’t.”

  Carlotta winced.

  “I—I kinda clicked the link?” The teen’s voice hitched up at the end turning her statement into a question. A sure sign she knew she’d messed up.

  “Even though you’re not over eighteen.”

  Carlotta had the grace to dip her head in remorse at Rosa’s admonishment.

  The last thing Rosa wanted was to get one of her students in trouble. Or worse, have a parent call the school with a complaint about her condoning inappropriate material. Not when she was already dreading having to meet with Father Yosef about her pregnancy.

  Talk about digging a deeper hole for herself.

  When Carlotta tipped her head to peer up at Rosa, her black eyes shone with a feverish light.

  “It’s just that, this girl, she’s not much older than me, and she has such a way with words,” Carlotta said, her voice filled with awe. “I wasn’t even thinking really. I got so caught up in her verses and her live performances, I couldn’t not click on the next one. It’s like . . . I don’t know.”

  Carlotta’s thumbs rubbed against her fingertips as if she were trying to feel for the right words. “Es—es como que me conoce.”

  “Like she knows you,” Rosa slowly repeated Carlotta’s assessment, a sense of kinship worming its way to her poet’s soul.

  The young girl nodded, her expression earnest. One palm flattened against her chest, the other once again pressed atop her spiral notebook.

  Rosa bit her lip, torn between reprimanding the girl for going to an unauthorized website and empathizing with her over the intense experience of having someone speak the words in your head. In your heart.

  Dragging out the plastic chair beside Carlotta’s, Rosa sank down into it with a heavy sigh.

  “You’re upset with me, too,” Carlotta muttered. She pushed her rectangular glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, her shoulders slumping.

  Rosa gathered her thoughts, wanting to bring home the importance of following the rules, yet not discourage one of her favorite students from confiding in her.

  “Here’s the thing,” Rosa started. “I love that you’re excited about poetry. That you’re challenging yourself by putting your thoughts and ideas on paper.” Instinctively she reached out to place a comforting hand on Carlotta’s shoulder. “And I’m honored that you’d ask me to read your writing.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ coming. I can sense it.”

  Rosa chuckled at Carlotta’s disgruntled tone. Smart girl.

  “Peeerooo.” Rosa drew out the word, teasing a tentative smile from her student. “But you know what your parents think is acceptable and what’s not. You know their rules. So, while I am all for diving into the spoken-word arena, I am not okay with anything that will get you in trouble. Or me.”

  Carlotta’s head whipped up, her jaw dropping in a shocked “oh.”

  “Get you in trouble? Ay que estúpida soy. I didn’t even think about that. Perdóname.”

  “You’re not stupid. You’re an inquisitive teen. Who also knows better than to break the rules. If you’re looking for more poets to study, I can give you a few other names and titles before you go. But stay out of the over-eighteen pages!”

  “Gracias, Señorita Fernandez.” Carlotta flung her arms around Rosa in a tight hug that stole Rosa’s breath. “You’re the best!”

  Rosa tucked Carlotta’s declaration into a corner of her memory. The one reserved for special moments she liked to recall whenever she doubted herself, or needed a pick-me-up. This might be her first semester as Queen of Peace’s librarian, but little by little she was making progress. With time, patience, determination, and love, she’d make her own place here. Out of her sisters’ shadows.

  If the diocese let her stay.

  As if her brain relayed the troubling thought to Rosa’s stomach, it picked that exact moment to complain again. Her stomach spasmed with contractions that had her pushing out of her seat and beelining for her office restroom. Her stomach heaving, she sank onto her knees in front of the toilet.

  Long moments later, once the worst had passed, she heard a tentative knock on the door. “¿Señorita Fernandez, está bien?”

  “Yes, I’m okay,” Rosa answered, her voice weak. “I’ll be right out.”

  It took way too much effort to pick herself up off the floor, rinse her mouth in the sink, and pat the sweat off her face. By the time Rosa finished, lying back down on the tile floor sounded like the best idea she’d had all day.

  Time for her to head home, even though it was earlier than normal.

  When she opened the door, Carlotta waited on the other side, her face a mask of worry.

  “I’m the one who needs to apologize now,” Rosa said. She leaned against the door frame for support. “I’m sorry, but I really need to call my sister for a ride home. Any chance I can take a look at your work tomorrow? Maybe during lunch or after school?”

  “Sure, that’s okay. Here, let me help you.” Carlotta stepped to Rosa’s side. The girl swung her right arm around Rosa’s waist, then hooked Rosa’s left arm over her shoulder.

  Her legs feeling like they were filled with mango jelly, Rosa leaned on Carlotta as they made their way to the front counter, where she’d left her cell phone.

  “Are you sure you’re doing okay? You’ve been sick for a few days now, haven’t you?”

  “I’m good. This will pass.” She hoped.

  They reached the stool behind the counter, and Rosa hooked a foot on the rung to support herself as she sat down.

  “You kinda look like my mom when she was, um, never mind.” Carlotta waved off the words, an embarrassed look crossing her youthful face.

  Rosa froze, afraid to respond. Certain she knew where Carlotta had been headed with her observation. Thankful the girl had dropped it because Rosa would not have wanted to lie to her.

  Mortified, Rosa reached for her cell next to the computer keyboard so she could call Yazmine. Just as she’d unlocked the phone screen, the library door opened again.

  “We’re closing up,” Carlotta called. “Señorita Fernandez isn’t well. Come back tomorrow.”

  “Looks like I got here just in time. I’m her ride home.”

  At the sound of Jeremy’s deep voice, Rosa dropped her phone. It clattered onto the counter, nearly falling off the edge.

  Her gaze shot to the doorway, her mind screaming a silent, What is he doing here?

  The sight of his broad shoulders cloaked in a navy wool winter coat made her pulse skip. His dirty-blond hair was wind-mussed, his cheeks ruddy from the cold front that had blown in overnight, dropping the temperature to icy twenties. She hadn’t seen him since her doctor’s appointment on Friday, but out of sight had not meant out of mind.
<
br />   Not for her anyway.

  “You know this guy?” Carlotta leaned toward Rosa and stage whispered.

  “Yeah,” Rosa answered. “He’s my—”

  Long-time crush, one-night stand, baby daddy.

  Jeremy cocked his head, his blue eyes considering her, waiting for her response.

  “Friend,” she finished, her voice tripping over the lame description.

  Jeremy’s eyes flashed with disappointment. Then he blinked and it was gone.

  His lips curved with a friendly grin for Carlotta as he strode toward the counter. Confident. Sure. Gorgeous. Totally unexpected.

  Rosa’s pulse picked up speed with each step that brought him closer.

  Her two worlds—school and personal life—were about to collide. Like an eyewitness helpless to stop a train wreck, she watched, stunned into muteness.

  “Jeremy Taylor. I’m a very close friend of Rosa’s, er, Señorita Fernandez.” He held out his hand toward Carlotta. “Nice to meet you.”

  The young girl eyed Jeremy warily before accepting his handshake. “Carlotta Juárez. She’s not feeling so hot. You probably wanna get her home right away.”

  Before Rosa could object, Carlotta morphed from shy schoolgirl to big sister in charge, thanks no doubt to her role at home. The teen made quick work of shutting down the computer, grabbing Rosa’s purse and jacket from her desk drawer, and locking the office behind her. Once back out front, Carlotta held the jacket and purse out at Jeremy.

  He looked at the black shoulder bag blankly.

  Carlotta shook it at him, her bug-eyed expression clearly saying she expected him to take it.

  If she wasn’t still shell-shocked by his arrival, Rosa might have laughed at Jeremy’s confusion.

  For someone who tended to be quiet most of the time, Carlotta certainly knew how to take charge when needed. Her whirlwind of activity helped ease the nervousness tingling across Rosa’s shoulders at seeing Jeremy again. Especially after the brief text message responses she’d given him all weekend.

  He had asked her to let him know how her conversation with Principal Meyer went, so she would have called him later tonight or tomorrow. She just hadn’t expected him to show up here.

  “Señorita Fernandez is pretty weak. You may need to help her to the car,” Carlotta directed Jeremy. “I can lock up behind us if you give me a quick sec.”

  The teen hurried to the table, where she crammed her spiral notebook and pencil in her backpack.

  “I guess she means business,” Jeremy mumbled, his wry chuckle softening the words.

  He slung Rosa’s purse strap over his shoulder, turning to model it for her with a quick wink.

  Pleasure washed over her, erasing some of her unease.

  This was her old Jeremy. The one who joked easily, smoothing away her shyness. The one who didn’t overwhelm her with his intensity. Or his insistence on moving their relationship at warp speed.

  “I’m the oldest,” Carlotta explained. “Both my parents work two jobs to pay the bills, so I’m always stuck in charge at home when they’re out or if my mom’s not well.”

  She slipped her arms into her book bag straps and hefted it up onto her back, then marched for the door. “Let’s go. She needs some rest.”

  Jeremy held on to Rosa’s elbow as she slid off the stool.

  Still weak from her recent bout of dry heaves, she leaned against the counter while he helped her into her coat. Turning her around to face him, he began fastening the buttons without a word.

  Rosa bit her lip, desperate to believe they could go back to the comfortable relationship they’d shared before. Afraid they couldn’t.

  He dipped his hands into her collar to carefully pull the ends of her hair out of her coat. His warm fingers brushed against her neck, and heat seeped down her body like molten lava.

  Her thoughts flashed back to a set of cool white bedsheets, Jeremy’s naked body against hers. His big hands caressing her neck, her belly, her bare breasts as he leaned over her to press a kiss to her skin.

  The lust she felt only for him sparked, overwhelming her already weakened body, and it finally gave out. Unable to stop herself, Rosa crumpled toward the floor.

  “Whoa!” Jeremy yelped, grabbing her under the armpits to stop her fall.

  The next thing she knew, he’d bent down to hook one arm under her knees, the other sliding behind her back. He swung her easily up in his arms, cradling her against his hard chest.

  “I can walk,” she protested, but even to her own ears, her plea sounded wimpy. About as wimpy as her ability to resist him.

  Jeremy ignored her, heading to the library entrance, where Carlotta held the door open.

  “Nice move, Galahad,” Carlotta teased, stepping aside to let them pass by.

  Jeremy laughed, a deep, throaty sound that Rosa felt rumbling through his chest.

  Embarrassed as she was to have Jeremy carry her out of the building, she smiled along with him. She had to hand it to Carlotta. The girl had sized up Jeremy quickly, correctly pegging him for the gallant knight Rosa knew him to be. Bueno, most of the time anyway.

  Carlotta locked up, then dropped the keys into Rosa’s purse. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Taylor. Make sure she’s okay. Hope you feel better by tomorrow, Señorita Fernandez. Adios.”

  With a wave good-bye, Carlotta hurried away down the hall.

  Rosa recalled the teen’s brief observation comparing Rosa’s sickness more than likely to her mom’s pregnancies. Hopefully Carlotta would forget about it. Certainly not share it with anyone. Not yet, anyway.

  “And then there were two,” Jeremy said softly.

  He gazed down at her, his charming smile crinkling the edges of his blue eyes.

  Yesterday, Rosa would have been anxious to keep her distance from him. Too tired to fight. Too scared of what the future held for them with so many uncertainties up in the air.

  Right now, it felt so good to be in his arms again. She didn’t have it in her to complain.

  With his strength supporting her tired body. His smile warming her heart. The scent of his earthy aftershave soothing her roiling stomach. Keeping her distance was the last thing she wanted.

  Sí, they still had to work through things. Big things.

  Maybe him coming here was a sign she should share with him the pro-con list she had started. The old Jeremy would listen, offer a suggestion.

  She hesitated, afraid of the consequences. Of him not agreeing and pushing his own agenda. Namely, a marriage of convenience.

  It was time for her to swallow that fear and stand her ground. Have that adult conversation without worrying that she might fall on old habits and go along with the “right thing” everyone expected. She could do it.

  Later though. Now she’d assuage her desire to be close to him. Just for a little while.

  Wrapping her arms more tightly around his broad shoulders, Rosa laid her head against his shoulder, his wool jacket scratchy against her cheek.

  “Take me home, Sir Galahad,” she murmured, barely suppressing a sigh of satisfaction. “I’m beat.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jeremy slid a quick, worried glance at Rosa seated beside him in the passenger seat of his BMW.

  “Take me home. I’m beat,” she had told him back at her school.

  He wouldn’t argue with that. As soon as he’d walked into the library, he’d noticed how worn out she looked. Even more so than on Friday.

  Now, eyes closed, she dozed while he drove, her arms slack at her sides. Her shoulders drooped like they carried a heavy weight. Her face was pale and gaunt, worry lines feathering her brow.

  Despite all of that, he still found her beautiful. Like always.

  As for her order that he take her home—hell, he wanted nothing more than to whisk her off to his place, where he’d tuck her in his bed and pamper her until she felt better. Take care of her and their baby. Convince her that he was good enough. That she could trust him to be a good husband and father who was worthy
of her.

  His mom’s cautionary words from yesterday whispered in his ear.

  Swooping Rosa off to his condo caveman-style was the exact opposite of behaving calmly and rationally and letting her take the lead.

  “So how did you get roped into picking me up?”

  Rosa’s sleepy, husky-voiced question drew his attention as he slowed for a red light. “I called Yazmine to see how you were doing. Figured she’d level with me.”

  “You could have called me,” Rosa mumbled.

  “I thought you might not be able to answer if students were in the library. And I wanted more than a one-word text response.”

  Guilt and exasperation melded in the brown depths of her eyes.

  The streetlight turned green and Jeremy eased his car forward, wishing he could move them past this new unease between them.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, Rosa,” he admitted on a tired sigh.

  He wanted to kiss her. Comfort her. Hold her in his arms.

  Fight? Not so much.

  “I don’t either. But you have to stop being a bully.”

  “A what?” Shocked at her description of him, Jeremy barely kept his foot from tapping the brake as his mind tripped over the word.

  He’d never been called a bully in his entire life. That was Roger Wilson’s calling card, especially with women. It’s what had ultimately landed the man in jail.

  Jeremy shook his head in exasperation. If he’d done anything to make Rosa feel like he was forcing his will on her. To make her doubt his sincerity or his pledge to be there for her and their baby. He’d never forgive himself.

  Frustrated, he clenched his fingers on the steering wheel. She deserved better.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.” Rosa laid a hand on his wrist, concern lacing her voice.

  Great. He was supposed to be looking out for her, and here she was trying to cheer him up.

  “No, you’re good.” Relaxing his tense grip, he covered her hand with one of his, giving it a gentle pat. “I don’t want you to ever think there’s something you can’t tell me. Especially if I’m being a jerk. We need to be honest with each other, okay?”