by Sabrina Sol
Daisy opened her mouth to respond but Brandon swooped in before she could. “Mamá, Daisy’s very traditional. How about we wait for nicknames until after the wedding, okay?”
Señora Montoya nodded and smiled. This time the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and Daisy knew the words had stung.
Guilt overwhelmed her and again she looked to Brandon for help. He wasn’t grinning anymore either, and she knew he felt what she did. She cleared her throat and forced herself to sound cheery. “Well, it’s going to be dark soon, so we better get you inside. I hope you’re hungry. Alexa was here cooking up a storm before going to pick you up, since she has to work tonight at the restaurant.”
Brandon grabbed the suitcases from the trunk and the three of them made their way into the condo. She guided Señora Montoya to the kitchen while he continued down the hallway to his mother’s bedroom.
Daisy had officially moved in two days ago and had spent all her time since memorizing every nook and cranny in the place. It was a beautiful home with lots of natural light and high ceilings. Yet despite the physical warmth permeating through the tall windows, the space itself had seemed cold and unwelcoming when Daisy first walked in. It was sparsely furnished with no photos or knickknacks. Brandon said he’d lived there for nearly two years, yet it was as if he’d just moved in, too. That’s when she realized the condo was a temporary home—a place for him to sleep and shower in between working at the restaurant and going out to clubs and parties. His mother would never believe that Daisy lived there, so with Alexa’s help and Brandon’s credit card, she’d added a woman’s touch to the place, from flowers in the entryway to throw blankets on the leather couches. She’d even convinced Brandon to take a couple of photos with her that she then framed and displayed throughout the place. At the time she thought she might’ve gone overboard, but when his mother mentioned how much she liked one certain photo of them that she’d stuck to the refrigerator with a colorful magnet, Daisy knew it had all been worth it.
“Daisy, I love what you’ve done to the house,” Señora Montoya said just as Brandon walked into the kitchen. “The last time I was here I felt like I stay at a hotel.”
She laughed at her scrunched up expression and at Brandon’s surprised one. “Thank you, Señora Montoya. But there’s still a few more things I’d like to do.”
“There are?” Brandon asked as he looked around.
“Oh yes. Don’t worry, honey. You’re going to love all the changes I have in store.” She looked at him with a knowing smile.
“I’m sure I will…honey,” he said, drawing out the endearment.
“Well, I can’t wait to see it all, Daisy. Oh and please, call me Lorena. No need to be so formal when we are going to be family.”
Family. It was such a simple word, yet it stirred up even more complex emotions within her. She pushed them down again and then busied herself setting out plates and glasses for all three of them. Brandon brought out the trays of food that had been warming in the oven and they all sat at the table to eat.
About halfway through dinner, Daisy finally allowed herself to relax. Despite Brandon’s warnings that his mother could be overbearing and bossy, Lorena had been nothing but pleasant and warm and funny. She’d even kept the questions to a minimum, asking only a few about Daisy’s dad and her event planning business. Brandon must’ve warned her not to bring up the subject of Daisy’s mom. He’d learned his lesson last night after pressing her for more details while they’d been cramming to make sure they knew enough about one another to pass as a couple in love.
And it was a good thing they’d studied, too. Because when dessert came out, so did the first test.
“Mamá, these cupcakes are from Daisy’s cousin’s bakery,” Brandon said as he handed his mother one of Amara’s famous tres leches cupcakes.
“How wonderful. That’s where you two met, no?”
“Actually, we met at the restaurant,” Daisy explained. “My cousin and I were there to try to convince Brandon and your daughter to put the bakery’s desserts on the menu.”
“That’s right,” Brandon added. “She actually hated me the first time we met.”
Daisy nearly choked on a piece of cupcake. That wasn’t the story they’d agreed to tell. The made-up story involved Brandon not wanting to let go of Daisy’s hand when they were introduced and Daisy purposefully leaving her phone behind in the restaurant so she could see him later that night when they were supposed to have had their first kiss. What was Brandon doing?
“Aye, Brandon. I’m sure Daisy didn’t hate you,” Lorena said with a laugh.
When she didn’t agree, both of them looked at her. She met his eyes and saw the amusement. He was challenging her to tell the truth.
Would he ever learn?
“Well,” she said and looked at his mother, “hate is such a strong word. I would say I didn’t care for him…at all.”
His mom laughed out loud. Satisfied with herself, Daisy licked caramel frosting off her fingers and smiled at Brandon.
“And I found her to be somewhat annoying,” he said as he caught her gaze.
“Please,” she said with a snort. “You were falling all over yourself trying to impress me.”
Brandon shook his head. “More like I was trying to be nice to you but you were making it very difficult with your nonstop eye rolls and exaggerated sighing.”
The stress of the past few days boiled over. She’d been killing herself preparing to be the perfect fake fiancée and it was like he was purposefully trying to make her fail. From redecorating his house to learning how he liked his coffee, she’d done everything he’d asked and more. So why was he antagonizing her? Mother or not, she wasn’t about to let him get away with his usual little digs.
“Of course I was rolling my eyes. You were going on and on about these special clams that were being flown in from Chile for dinner service that night. Clams. The way you talked about them… Dear Lord, it was like that plane was carrying the Pope instead of a bunch of seafood.”
There went that jaw muscle again. “Do you know how hard it was to get those clams?” he said slowly.
“Actually, I do. Why? Because you kept telling me over and over again. Hence, the eye roll.” She pointed to her right eye and looked up.
“Really, Daisy? I swear I—”
A voice interrupted their…whatever it was they were doing. “So when did your feelings change?”
She’d almost forgotten that Lorena was still there. They both turned to look at her at the same time. “Excuse me?” Daisy asked. “What?” Brandon said after.
Lorena clasped her hands and set them on the table. “When did your feelings turn into love?”
Daisy’s heart pounded. Their cute fall-in-love story had been shredded into pieces once the floodgates opened about how they really felt about each other when they first met. There was no backup story to tell.
“Mamá…” Brandon warned. He must’ve sensed her panic
His mother looked at him with a wide-eyed innocence as fake as their couple photos on the fridge. “What? That’s not too personal, is it? It’s a simple question. Everyone knows that feeling and they can usually remember the moment it happened. I still remember exactly when I realized that your papi was the man I was going to marry.”
Daisy’s interest peaked. “You do?”
“Pues, of course. Those are the moments that you know your life will never be the same again.”
She was definitely curious now—even a little jealous. What would it feel like to know that you had just met your soul mate?
Daisy had had her share of boyfriends over the years but she’d only used the “L” word with Luis. And even then it seemed like she had eased into it like a comfortable old shoe. There were no fireworks, no flashing Jumbotron messages that told her this was The Guy. No wonder it hadn’t worked out.
“It’s getting late, Mamá.” Brandon’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “How about we stop the interviewing for tonight and
you can ask her your questions later?”
Yeah, the conversation had taken a turn that she hadn’t expected. “Brandon’s right. You’ve had a long day and should rest,” she told Lorena. “We have two whole weeks to get to know each other, right?”
Lorena patted Daisy’s hand. “Or we can talk while I help you clean up?”
She gave Brandon another look. And he understood her unspoken message perfectly. “That’s okay, Mamá. After I help you get settled, I’ll come back and help Daisy. We love doing the dishes together, don’t we, sweetie?”
Daisy nodded, only because if she opened her mouth she’d burst out laughing.
And when Brandon walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later asking to be put to work, she did just that.
“You’re going to help me do dishes? You?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Because you’re you. You probably get more manicures than I do. I highly doubt those hands have ever been shriveled by dirty dishwater.”
“Okay, first of all, I don’t get manicures. Second of all, I’ll have you know that my first job was as a dishwasher in my tio’s restaurant back in Puerto Rico.”
“What about now?”
“Now? Well, I use machines like everyone else.”
“Oh really? So then how do you use this one? Because I’ve been staring at it for ten minutes and I still can’t figure it out.”
“Okay, well, only the housekeeper knows how to use this one. But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember how to scrub a pot.”
“Fine then. You wash and rinse and I’ll dry and put away.”
“Fine.”
She watched as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirtsleeves. The tendons in his forearms flexed with the movement, and the memory of those strong arms around her made her inhale sharply, as if they were still tightening their grip on her. Daisy looked away before Brandon noticed she was staring and concentrated on finding a dishtowel. “Look, I’m sorry about saying that stuff about the clams and me not liking you very much when we first met.” The corner of his mouth twitched and she relaxed. “It’s just that you went off script and I didn’t know how much I should say.”
“So you said everything?”
“I said I was sorry.”
He sighed and gave her a full smile. “I’m sorry, too. That was all my fault. From now on, we stick to the script, okay?”
“Okay.” Part of her wanted to stay mad at him. That way she wouldn’t notice just how damn sexy he looked lathering up a plate. She needed a distraction to keep herself from drooling all over the clean dishes.
“So, I didn’t know you worked in your tio’s restaurant. Is that what made you want to own one of your own?”
He nodded as he picked up another plate to wash. “Definitely. After my dad died, my mom started working there as a waitress. Then when Alex and I were old enough, we’d help out after school and on the weekends. I did everything from washing the dishes to mopping the floors to prepping the food. When we were in high school, that’s when my tio finally let us cook. Alex loved being in the kitchen and finding ways to improve his recipes. But I always preferred being in the front of the house—the front of the restaurant. I liked seating the customers and checking in on them. I also started helping him run the business stuff, and that’s when I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.”
“What made you leave, then? It sounds like you probably could’ve taken over your tio’s restaurant and stayed in Puerto Rico.”
“He did ask me to. His own kids were doing their own thing and weren’t interested. I almost said yes. I was going to skip college and just manage the restaurant full-time.”
“So what changed your mind?”
“My mom did.”
Daisy stopped drying the pan she was holding and turned to look at him. “She did? How?”
“When my dad died, everyone told me that I had to step up and take care of my mom and my sister. They told me I had to be the man of the house,” he said matter-of-factly.
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
A familiar sense of loss rolled through her. “Wow. That’s the same age I was when my mom left us.”
They shared a knowing look before he turned back to scrub the inside of a glass. “I promised her at his funeral that I’d always take care of her and Alex. That’s why I started working in the restaurant in the first place. I wanted to earn some money so I could help my mamá buy groceries and pay the bills. Then when I was older, I just figured she’d always need me around for something, so I didn’t even let myself think about ever leaving Puerto Rico. Until, one day, we got in a fight over something silly and I told her that I hated her.”
She couldn’t hide her shock. “You did? I can’t believe you would ever say something like that.”
The shame in his eyes was so raw. So wrenching. She looked away, almost embarrassed to have seen it. “Of course I’d never do that now,” she heard him say. “But I was an angry guy back then, full of resentment. And that day I finally told her that it was her fault that I’d never be anything more than the manager of a ten-table taqueria in San Paolo. I still can’t forget the way she winced when I said that. It was like I had slapped her.”
“What did she do?”
“She told me I was right.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Then she told me to leave. She said it was time for me to go live my life. So I did. If it wasn’t for her I would’ve never moved to New York and I probably would’ve never opened up N.Y. Cuchara. I owe her my dream, Daisy.”
The crack in his voice tugged at her heart. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his shoulder. His muscles tightened underneath her fingers, and he cleared his throat. “When I left for New York, I told her that I was going to keep the promise that I had made to her when I was a kid. Eventually, I was able to move her out of our old apartment and into a new house. And I still make sure that her bills are paid and she has whatever she needs, even though she insists that I don’t have to take care of her anymore.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “That’s why she didn’t want to come here in the first place. She knows I like my life the way it is—without any ties or responsibilities except for my restaurants. She doesn’t want me to ever feel like she’s imposing on my freedom or my happiness. Do you understand now why I had to do this? My mamá would probably have rather died from cancer than make her son take care of her again. All because I was a stupid kid who said a stupid thing a long time ago.”
He looked so ashamed, even though he had nothing to be ashamed of. The need to comfort him overwhelmed any hesitation she had about risking physical contact, so she touched his face. “Don’t worry, Brandon. I know what it means to have her here in L.A. I won’t back out now. I promise.”
He grabbed the hand on his cheek. “I believe you. Thank you.”
The unexpected show of affection startled her, and she pulled her hand back quicker than she probably should have. “Listen, I know you’ve got to get to the restaurant soon, so I can finish these up on my own if you need to leave.”
It was more of a statement than a question. Yet he didn’t budge and instead went back to work. She did the same, and they fell into a silent rhythm until only a few things remained in the sink.
“Looks like you need a little more soap,” she told him after he handed her a plate.
“Do we have another bottle somewhere? I think I finished this one off.”
She smiled at the simple remark. We. As though this was her kitchen, too. “There’s still some inside there around the edges. Just put in a little bit of water and shake it.”
Brandon grabbed the nearly empty plastic bottle from the counter and held it under the open faucet. After filling it about a third of the way, he replaced the squeeze top cap and shook it. But he must’ve squeezed the middle of the bottle at the same time as he shook it because a spray of bubbles squirted out and landed all over Daisy.
His
eyes grew wide and she could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. “I swear that was an accident.”
She grabbed the bottle from him and squeezed until bubbles sprayed in his face. “Well, that wasn’t.”
Brandon wiped his eyes with both hands before taking the bottle back from her and shaking it fast and furious. “So that’s what I get for helping, huh?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said as she backed away from him.
He moved toward her, still shaking the bottle. “Oh, but I would.”
She stopped when her back hit the door leading to the garage. Holding on to the knob, she braced herself for his payback. But instead of unleashing a spray of soapy suds, Brandon put the bottle down on the counter next to them. “You still have bubbles in your hair,” he told her with a smile.
Before she could say or do anything, he reached up and brushed his fingers through the loose strands framing her face. “There,” he whispered. “All gone.” His smile disappeared along with those unseen bubbles as his hands moved behind her neck and his fingers brushed her jawline.
Her body came alive with the warmth of his touch. She gripped the doorknob and held on as if it were an anchor, something to make sure she didn’t drift into dangerous territory yet again.
Then Lorena called for him.
She welcomed the interruption. “Go on. I’ll finish these last ones and then head up to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Daisy…”
“Good night, Brandon.”
He nodded and headed out of the kitchen. It wasn’t until he was gone that she finally exhaled.
With his mom finally unpacked and ready for bed, Brandon headed upstairs to take a shower before leaving for the restaurant. It wasn’t until he walked into the guest bedroom that he realized he still had most of his things in the closet in the master bedroom—Daisy’s bedroom.
He stopped at the closed door and knocked. When she didn’t answer, he opened it slowly and called out her name. She still didn’t answer and that’s when he saw the light shining from underneath the bathroom door. He walked inside the closet and grabbed another pair of shoes and two more suits. The rest of the stuff could wait until tomorrow.