Taking a deep breath, she motioned to her friends and with a nod of her head she stepped out into the restaurant.
Diana and Eduardo were right behind her and as they stood beside her at the front of the space, the head waiter walked over and handed them each a glass.
The room quieted and Eduardo stepped forward. He looked back and took a hold of his wife's hand. With her encouragement and a smile from her, he began his short speech.
"Many of you know the roads that the three of us have taken to be here. To my uncle we give our unending gratitude for giving us the opportunity to buy this wonderful place. To all our friends and family who helped with contributions too generous to name, we thank you."
He paused and looked back at Diana, then faced Bianca and grinned. "To my two partners, my wife Diana and my best friend Bianca. No man should be so lucky as to have two such amazing women in his life."
A smattering of applause interrupted him. Eduardo raised his hand and asked for quiet so he could continue. "Finally, there are some people here who although they were paid for their work, put their hearts into their labor to create the beautiful façade for our foods. To John-John and the others who worked here, we give our thanks and most importantly, to Rey Ramos for his artistic insight."
There were hoots and hollers from the workers, and shouts urging Rey to stand.
Rey smiled uneasily and rose. Eduardo motioned for him to join them.
Bianca was surprised and might have bolted if Eduardo didn't slip beside her to forestall her escape. She looked at him and realized he had been aware of Rey's plans all along.
Rey shot her a pained look before standing to the side of her. In his large hands, he held a bunch of well-worn index cards which he glanced at nervously before clearing his throat and speaking.
"When these three first came to me, I saw just another remodeling job until I got to know them and appreciated just how special this place was to them and what it meant to their dreams. It became something more then, just like their idea of foods that were a synthesis of something new and something old, like they are. Cubans by either birth or heritage, they aren't the Cuba of old, but of the new, rising here in America. It was somehow right that they should call their restaurant Havana Nueva since it reflects who they've become and what Havana might have been if things were different. In honor of the traditions and heritage that made them what they are, I'd like to unveil my gift to them."
He raised his hand and Bianca noticed that John-John was at one end of the tarp and another of the workers was at the other far end by the coat check. At a wave of Rey's hand and his nod, they slowly took down the tarp, revealing a mural that took her breath away.
As more and more of the tarp was removed, an ocean view of the Havana skyline and the Malecon seawall filled her gaze. Done in a Cubist-style, sharp clean angles defined all the buildings and the seawall, but even to American-born Bianca, the buildings were still identifiable from the pictures she had seen over the years. The Hotel Nacional with its distinctive twin spires. Farther down the long rows of homes with their fanciful balconies and windows, leading all the way to the historic Morro Castle.
The tones of the paint were all in neutral browns, blacks and creams, as if the mural was an old sepia-toned photo, except for the crisp and flowing Cuban flag flying high above one of the buildings, with its distinctive blue stripes, bright red triangle, and white star.
She was moved more than she could say, as were her partners as they approached Rey and hugged him hard. After the embrace, they turned back to the friends and family gathered there and raised their glasses.
"To the future and all our dreams," Eduardo said.
Their guests joined them in their toast and afterward, clapped and cheered them on. Once it had quieted, the wait staff served the desserts and they all turned their attention to the sweets.
Bianca stood there awkwardly, sipping at the champagne lingering in her flute while Rey fumbled with his glass and the cards he still held in his hand. Finally she said, "The mural is remarkable. When did you do it?"
"It was what I was sketching while you and I were. . ." His voice trailed off and it was clear to her he was uncomfortable with continuing the conversation out in public.
"Maybe you and I could go somewhere and talk," she said and softly added, "Maybe to your apartment."
Rey glanced at her, but didn't dare dream that what he saw in her eyes was still love and acceptance. "Are you sure you want to go with --"
He didn't finish the question as she placed her index finger over his lips, quieting him.
"I was always sure, Rey," she said in a hushed voice and cupped his jaw, her thumb riding over his lips as if to urge away the grim set of them. He hadn't realized until then just how tense he had been.
Rey nodded and Bianca said, "We need to excuse ourselves and I need to say goodbye to the food critics before we go."
Again he nodded and followed her to the table where he had been sitting, where they explained that they were leaving to their family. Rey didn't fail to notice the glare that Alex shot him as if to say, "If you hurt her again, I will hurt you."
Even his sister Daisy, always supportive of him, quietly urged him on after he hugged her.
"Do the right thing, Rey," she said.
He smiled tightly and Bianca turned to him and laid a hand on his chest. "Let me go say goodnight to the critics."
"I'll be outside, waiting in the truck."
She walked away and then he quickly made his own exit out to the packed parking lot. He walked to his car briskly, got in, started it up, and then pulled out to park it in front of the restaurant to wait for Bianca.
She didn't disappoint him. She left the building just a few minutes later, hurried to the car, and jumped in. Just as quickly, he pulled away and drove the short distance to his house. Once they were inside, they hurried to his apartment for the privacy that the restaurant had lacked.
Rey slowed down only once she was in his apartment, the door securely bolted behind them. He finally took a deep breath and motioned her in the direction of the sofa.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
"No, I'm fine, thanks."
He sat at the opposite end of the sofa and faced her. Placing his hands on his thighs, he gripped them tightly and hesitated for a moment before beginning uncertainly. "I was wrong not to tell you, but I was afraid that once you knew, you wouldn't want anything to do with me."
Bianca nodded and shifted on the sofa until she was close enough to lay her hand over his. She grasped it tightly and urged him on. "I know the man you are now, Rey. And I love all of him. The man who works with his hands. The artist who can create such wonderful things like the mural. Whatever is in the past can stay there once we get it out in the open and deal with it," she pleaded.
There was no doubt in his mind that she truly believed those words.
"I spent six months in prison, Bianca," he nearly whispered, and looked down, shame running rampant through his body, but the gentle reassuring squeeze she gave his hand willed him to continue.
"I was a lookout for a gang and unknowingly helped set up another gang member for a drive-by shooting. Luckily I realized what was going down and was able to stop it before anyone got hurt."
Almost absentmindedly he reached for his side, rubbing at the scar in a gesture that had become almost instinctive whenever he thought about that day.
Bianca followed the motion with her eyes, and he knew that she finally realized how he had gotten the scar. "You were shot?"
Rey eased the one traitorous hand back down onto his thigh. "They said I was lucky." His voice cracked as he said it and he picked a spot on the far wall, fixed his gaze on it to avoid looking at her for fear he wouldn't be able to finish his story.
She went to him, leaned her body next to his, and cradled his head against her. "You were lucky."
He vehemently shook his head. "I wasn't lucky, not at all. At least I didn't think so in the months
that followed. The District Attorney wanted to make an example for the community of how he wouldn't put up with gangs ruling the streets."
"He made you that example?" she questioned and he wagged his head.
"I was old enough to be tried as an adult and he pressed for a stiff sentence. The judge took pity on me since I had put myself in danger to help those other people. He gave me a light sentence, but that didn't matter," he told her and went on.
"I destroyed my family at a time when they could least afford it, both financially and emotionally. If it wasn't for the fact that the judge came to their help, they might have ended up on the street."
Bianca ran her hands through his hair, using the touch to calm him and encourage his confidence. "But they didn't," she stressed and kissed his forehead. "And everything turned out all right for everybody."
He glanced at her, so hopeful, and she wanted to nourish that hope. She kissed him and whispered against his lips, "You said tonight that our heritages and traditions are what made us what we are. Something new and better. With our own set of dreams."
Rey nodded and she continued, cradling his head in her hands. Massaging it with a healing touch. "What you experienced made you who you are, Rey. Someone better than the man you were back then. Someone stronger, more honorable with so many dreams to share," she finished, bringing her lips to his and kissing him with all the love she had in her heart.
He sighed and returned her kiss, whispering, "I only dream of you, Bianca. Every minute of every night, I dream of having you with me."
She smiled and as she kissed him again, she felt his answering smile in his kiss. "’Dream of me,’ you said. And I do, Rey. Every minute of every night, I dream of you."
He pulled away from her, smiling still, and traced the edge of her brow with his hand. He tucked a lock of her hair behind an ear. "Would you think I was crazy if I asked you to marry me?"
"Yes, but maybe not as crazy as me for saying "Yes.”
Epilogue
Most people would probably think it was one of the weirdest weddings they had ever attended, Bianca thought.
Her maid of honor waddled down the aisle, heavily pregnant and holding onto the hand of the adorable flower girl who tossed rose petals all along the way and then ran into the arms of her father in the front row.
Rey had opted to have not a best man, but a best woman. He was joined at the altar by his sister, Daisy, who had also starting to show signs of her own pregnancy.
Next to Daisy stood John-John, resplendent in a brand new tuxedo that he had bought with the winnings from the pool that Rey had tried to stop -- the one guessing at how long it would be before Rey proposed to Bianca.
The only normal members of the wedding party were Diane and Eduardo.
Diane was elegantly formal in a pale pink gown that matched those of the maid of honor and best woman, and Eduardo preened in his tuxedo, looking dashing next to his wife.
Before the ceremony, Bianca had snuck a peek down the aisle at her husband-to-be, and the sight of him had taken her breath away.
In a tuxedo that emphasized the broad width of his shoulders and lean hips, he looked stupendous. Dangerous combined with his dark coloring, but with that boyish dimple and that slight bad boy attitude that had first snared her attention.
As the organist launched into the traditional wedding march, she took a deep breath, passed her arm through her father's, and smiled at him.
"Ready, Dad?" she asked.
Her father nodded and led her into the middle of the aisle for the walk to her husband-to-be.
There was no hesitation in her as she took that first step toward the future.
Rey stared toward the back of the church and his breath caught in his chest at his first glimpse of Bianca.
She was lovelier than ever, the creamy ivory hue of the gown a perfect foil to her coloring. Forcing himself to draw a breath, he waited anxiously as she walked to meet him, her steps brisk and determined.
He shook her father’s hand and the man smiled without hesitation. He turned to his daughter and she kissed him. After, she walked over to embrace her mother and he barely controlled himself from striding over and asking her to move it along.
But when she finished and met his gaze, he had no doubts she was just as impatient.
She hurried the final few steps and he offered her his arm.
She looped her satin-clad arm through his and beneath her breath whispered, "From now on, my love, it's just one long dream."
It probably came as no surprise to most that the groom didn't wait to kiss the bride.
THE END
About the Author
Charity Pineiro
Charity Pineiro is the pseudonym for New York Times and USA Today bestselling author and RITA® Finalist Caridad Pineiro. Charity/Caridad wrote her first novel in the fifth grade when her teacher assigned a project – to write a book for a class lending library. Bitten by the writing bug, Caridad continued with her passion for the written word and in 1999, Caridad’s first novel was released. Over a decade later, Caridad is the author of nearly 40 published novels and novellas. When not writing, Caridad is a wife, and mother to an aspiring writer and fashionista.
For more information, please visit www.caridad.com or www.charitypineiro.com.
Follow Charity on Twitter at www.twitter.com/caridadpineiro and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/Caridad.Author.
Additional Books by the Author Writing as Charity Pineiro
NOW AND ALWAYS
FAITH IN YOU
TORI GOT LUCKY
HEART RAIDER
by Sophia Knighly
Nick and Veronique – Hearthrob Series, Book One
Prologue
Thirteen-year-old Veronique Whitcomb gazed at the sparkly stars in the clear North Carolina sky and let out a frustrated sigh. Sitting cross-legged in front of the campfire, she swallowed against the lump in her throat and tried to smile. It was the last night she’d spend with her two best friends at sleep away camp and she wished it would never end. Tonight she’d enjoy their company…tomorrow she’d have to face the disaster called home.
“I hate that we’re leaving tomorrow,” Veronique said, grabbing each girl’s hand. “I’m gonna miss you guys.” They’d first started coming to camp as little girls and none of them had sisters. Tash and Teddy would always be her Heart Sisters.
“I bet you’ll miss Nick even more.” Natasha White’s blue eyes danced as she tossed her long strawberry blond hair. “You’ve been trying to get his attention all summer.”
“I have not, Tash,” Veronique retorted. God, had she been that obvious? The first time her eyes had connected with the deep blue eyes of the cutest counselor at Camp Merry Cascades, her heart had done a cartwheel and was never the same.
Theodora Behr clutched her heart dramatically. “Nick is sooo hot. I can’t stop dreaming about him.” She grinned and nudged Natasha.
“You can’t have him, Teddy. I want him too.” Natasha pretended to swoon. “Admit you like him, Ronnie. We all do.”
“Cut it out, guys.” Veronique’s chest hitched at the thought of not seeing Nick again, but she rolled her eyes to hide her feelings.
Natasha smiled. “Hey, you don’t have to get so defensive.”
“Yeah, we’re just messing with you. We won’t mention him again. No more Nick—I promise,” Theodora said, lifting her right hand in a pledge. “I’m gonna miss you too.”
“We have to stay in touch after we leave,” Natasha said earnestly.
“Pinky swear.” Veronique raised her pinky with the bitten-down nail and ragged cuticle.
“I’m in.” Theodora linked her suntanned pinky with Veronique’s. “I plan to travel the world and marry a hot prince in a foreign land, but I’ll always stay in touch.”
“Me too.” Natasha looped her bejeweled, manicured pinky with theirs. “I’m going to be a famous Broadway actress,” she said dreamily. “Of course…if Nick proposed to any of us today, we’d say yes.�
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“You promised not to mention him again,” Veronique reminded her. “Anyway, I’m gonna be too busy reporting important stuff to think about marriage. I probably won’t marry anyone,” she added with a touch of cynicism to throw them off.
“Unless it’s Nick!” Theodora and Natasha added in unison and collapsed into giggles.
Chapter One
Fifteen years later…
Veronique squelched a sharp intake of breath at the dangerous looking man whose wide shoulders filled the doorway. She hadn’t expected to find him looking so untamed and ominous on this steamy August morning on Starfish Island, a barrier island off the Gulf Coast of Florida. He looked annoyed too. She couldn't blame him really—she'd stood there ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door until he finally answered.
Nick Cameron’s cobalt blue eyes locked on hers, flashing with impatience. Veronique’s stomach fluttered nervously as she lifted her chin and stared back, her lips unsteady with the effort to smile. The foreboding glint in Nick’s eyes made her knees knock, yet she was not the knee-knocking type—not by a long shot. Veronique Whitcomb, intrepid reporter for Ace News, was not easily frightened. Still…Nick’s sheer size and intimidating air gave her pause. She held onto the wooden balustrade and gaped at him. Dark stubble shaded his chiseled jaw. The angles of his face were sharper than she remembered, his cheekbones and jaw taut, his nose a hawkish blade. He was almost unrecognizable, save for the brilliant blue eyes pinning her with an intensity that made her smile falter.
“Ronnie?” Nick’s searing gaze raked over her. “What are you doing here?”
Her heart lifted. Nick remembered her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all. Maybe the large, scowling man would revert back to the childhood heartthrob she remembered. She’d flown into Miami two days ago from New York and driven across to the west coast of Florida in a rental car, stopping to do some interviews in Fort Myers before crossing over the causeway to Starfish Island. She would have driven anywhere to seek him out.
“Never mind. I know why you’re here,” he said caustically. “You’re not getting an interview.” He looked behind her, peering from left to right.
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