by LK Farlow
He blows one back in the rearview mirror.
I trek inside, eager to escape the cold. Ever prompt, I find Lety and Desi already waiting for me.
Desi spots me first and flies over to hug me. “I didn’t think you’d ever get here. She keeps asking me about boys!” she mutters the last part so only I can hear it.
“I’m perfectly on time.”
Desi rolls her eyes in agitation, but a smile breaks free
“Seraphine!” Lety wraps me in a tight hug, kissing each cheek. As she releases me, I swear, she glances down meaningfully at my stomach. “You are looking well. Glowing.”
“Oh, thanks. Um, you look well too?”
Both Lety and Desi laugh at my less-than-eloquent reply. “Come, let’s arrange flowers.”
The class is intimate, with only five other people plus the instructor.
“Good morning,” a chipper redhead says. “I’m Toni and I’ll be teaching y’all how to make one helluva bouquet today. If you’ll move over to our worktable, we can get started.”
We all shuffle to the massive table in the back of the shop. Desi gets paired with another girl close to her age, and the two become fast friends.
“Please make sure your workspace has all of the following—a vase, shears, a thorn stripper, a bottle of water, a packet of soluble preservative, and tape.”
Once Toni is satisfied that we all have the required equipment, she moves on. “Perfect. In groups of two, moving from left to right, we’re going to take turns selecting our flowers. Please select anywhere from two-six types. Think out of the box—mix it up, be bold, and don’t forget your greenery!”
Lety and I are last to go.
I gravitate toward brighter blooms—gorgeous orange lilies, red and orange carnations, purple chrysanthemums, along with orange miniature carnations.
Lety on the other hand goes for ruby red roses and sunflowers.
“You need something green,” she tells me, assessing my selections. “Perhaps some baby’s breath?”
I’m sure it’s my imagination, but it feels like she emphasized the word baby—no, that’s crazy. “I was thinking about these oak leaves.”
Her eyes dart to my stomach again. “I suppose.”
We head back to the table and Toni dives right into what we need to do to build our arrangements.
“First things first, ladies, we’re going to cut our stems at an angle—but please be sure to keep them one-and-a-half times taller than your vases. Once you’re done, please remove any thorns or leaves that will sit below the water line. This is important because it helps stop bacteria growth, thus extending the longevity of your flowers.”
Toni falls quiet as we follow her instructions, snipped and measuring and chatting quietly amongst ourselves.
As we’re working, a bitter metallic taste fills my mouth. Lety must see my disgust on my face. “Are you okay?” she asks.
I push my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to hold back the sick feeling the taste is causing. “Yeah, just, I don’t know—a bad taste—but I’ll be fine.”
She eyes me curiously. “You need water. And a mint.” She bends and retrieve a peppermint from her bag, passing it to me. Before I can thank her, she’s bustling over to Toni in search of water.
The mint instantly reduces the coppery taste, making me sigh in relief.
I can’t make out their conversation, but Lety speaks urgently, glancing back to me several times. Whatever she said has Toni leaving her post at the head of the table.
The gorgeous florist returns moments later with a bottle of water and a kind smile.
“Thank you,” I murmur to Lety as she presses the ice-cold bottle into my hands. After glugging down a few sips, I feel almost as good as new.
“You are welcome. It happened to me too.”
“What did?” I ask, resuming my leaf removal.
“My mouth always tasted like I was sucking on pennies when I was pregnant.”
“What?” Desi shouts, obviously tuned into our conversation. “You’re pregnant?”
The scissors fall from my hands, clattering onto the table, as I jerk to a halt mid cut. “I… uh… sorry, what?”
Lety gives me a look that’s equal parts pity and understanding. “Pregnant. You are with child, yes?”
“Are you really?” Desi’s eyes are wider than dinner plates. “Oh, my God! Does Dad know?”
My throat feels like sandpaper as it works overtime for me to swallow. “Yes,” I whisper, answering them both, right as Toni jumps back into directing us through the art of floral arrangement.
“Everyone please pour the provided water into your vase, followed by the preservative.”
“This conversation is not over,” Lety whispers from the side of her mouth, her words a soft promise rather than a threat.
Regardless, worry winds through me like a snake on a limb, constricting around my heart.
“Start with your largest flowers first. Work in a circle and rotate the vase as you go. Keep an eye on your symmetry. Wash, rinse, and repeat until your arrangement is complete.”
I sneak a peek a Desi while she works; her cheeks are pink and her eyes are bright, but otherwise, her face is unreadable.
Lety hums Rockabye Baby under her breath as she works.
I tug at the neckline of my sweater.
“Are you good?” she asks.
“Yeah, just hot.”
Lety spins her vase around, checking it from all angles before nodding once. “It is increased blood flow.”
“What?”
“You are hot from increased blood flow.”
“Oh,” I reply, dumbfounded.
I try and get lost in my work, but I’m pretty sure my bouquet looks like it came from the dollar-store-discount-bin.
“Time to go, Seraphine,” Lety says, startling me.
Sure enough, everyone around us is packing up to go. I quickly neaten my station and grab my vase. “Are you, um, good with Dilly’s still? I asked Mateo if he wanted to meet us there.”
“Desi has me hooked on the place,” she says, pulling her granddaughter into her side.
“Yeah, it’s good.”
“Good?” Desi cries. “Their grilled cheeses are lit!”
I nod in agreement, but I’m a million miles away.
Desi calls shotgun, and I’m all too happy to hideout in the backseat and watch over our flower arrangements.
The second the engine turns over and the doors lock, my anxiety ramps up to a whole new level and I find myself desperate to explain. “We were planning to tell you—today actually.”
“I have known for a long time,” Lety says.
“What? Did Mateo tell you?” Hurt pinches my heart. I mean, I wouldn’t fault him for telling her, I just wish he would have clued me in.
“No.” She parallel parks in front of Dilly’s like a boss.
“Then how do you—”
“A mother just knows.” Lety kills the engine. “This baby is a good thing. A blessing. I am excited. Let’s celebrate.”
“Now?”
Desi clambers out of the car, with Lety hot on her heels. I rush to follow. “Yes! Now!” the younger Reyes crows.
Her grandmother grins conspiratorially. “Cake—we will order cake!”
I loop my arms through theirs. “I do like cake.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mateo
I walk to my truck with a spring in my step and an anticipatory smile on my face. I’ve got a plan in place and all that’s left to nail down is the timing.
But before I can figure out any of that, I’ve got lunch plans and a different kind of bomb to drop.
Though, I guess bomb isn’t really the right word—unless it’s a confetti bomb or something—because I know without a doubt Mamá is going to be happy.
Ecstatic even.
She’s been wanting more grandkids since Desi was born.
Something tells me Des is going to be on board as well.
&nb
sp; The whole way to Dilly’s my mind bounces back-and-forth between the baby and the other thing. I’m ninety percent confident, but damn if that ten percent doesn’t freak me out.
“One thing at a time,” I murmur to myself as I park across the street.
A small smile unfurls when I walk past my mother’s perfectly parked car. Swear, the woman parallel parks with robot-like precision.
I step into Dilly’s and instantly find Mamá, Desi, and Seraphine at a table toward the back. My daughter and my mother are seated facing me; they’re talking, laughing, and carrying on like they’ve known Seraphine forever.
The sight of it warms my heart.
Mamá sees me approaching; she nudges Desi but says nothing.
“Hopefully I didn’t keep y’all waiting,” I say, dropping my hands onto Seraphine’s shoulders.
She jumps and twists around in her seat. “Oh, my God! You snuck up on me.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “What’s got y’all giggling like schoolgirls?”
Seraphine starts to reply, but Mamá speaks over her, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We were discussing wedding plans, mijo.”
Desi slaps a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter while Seraphine looks distraught.
“Wha?” she twists back to face my mother so fast I think even I have whiplash.
Mamá shrugs innocently. “Wouldn’t a Christmas wedding be nice?”
“Oooh, yes!” Desi agrees. “We could do a cocoa bar!”
Seraphine slumps forward, covering her face with her hands. “Mateo,” she cries my name. “I swear, we we’re not talking about wedding plans!”
As an internal debate wages within be me, I pat my pocket and decide to go for broke. “Do not hide from me, Seraphine.”
“I’m not hiding,” she says—clearly hiding. “I’m just—”
“Turn around,” I tell her, sliding the velvet box from my pocket as I drop down to one knee. “Turn around so I can ask you to be my wife.”
“What?”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Desi is filming the whole thing while Mamá texts furiously, no doubt texting my tía Sofia.
“Turn around so I can tell you that I want to start and end each day with you at my side.”
“Is this real?” Her voice quavers.
“Turn around, mariposita,” I urge her. “Turn around and find out.”
“Yeah, Spaz! Turn around already!”
In what feels like slow motion, Seraphine turns toward me. “Mateo,” she whispers.
“Marry me?”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words ever come out.
“Marry me and make me the happiest man on the planet.”
“Are you…are you serious right now?”
“Do I look serious?” I pop the lid on the ring box, revealing the blinding diamond nestled in a twisted halo rose gold setting. “I never thought I would get a second chance at the kind of happiness you’ve brought into my life—much less at love. Say yes—make us a family, take my name, you already have my heart.”
Random patrons yell for her to say yes, but Seraphine is frozen with tears streaming down her cheeks.
Finally, after what feels like eons, she nods.
“Yes? Is that a yes? I need to hear the words, mariposita.”
“Yes, of course. I love you, yes!”
Epilogue
Seraphine
Sucking in a sharp breath, I pause in the doorway, letting Desi and Magnolia trail ahead of me.
Lety’s backyard looks like a winter wonderland. Rows of string lights twinkle overhead, casting a magical glow. There’s garland, crimson ribbons, and twinkling lights wrapped around the deck rails and poinsettias line the steps leading down into the grass.
Prettier still is the huge wreath suspended between two shepherd’s hooks under the pergola in the yard.
But the most catching sight of all is Mateo standing under the wreath in a pitch-black suit with the most handsome lopsided grin on his face. Simon and Arrón stand with him.
Mateo stands up straighter the second he spots me. His eyes lock onto me, tracking my every movement.
My heart pitter-patters in a flurry of nerves and excitement as the first chords of Twenty-One Pilot’s rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” trickles through the outdoor speakers.
I clutch my bouquet to my chest as the weight of the moment barrels into me like a freight train.
Like most little girls, I envisioned my father walking me down the aisle, but he isn’t here to do that. And while it took me a long time to come to terms with his death, I know he’s here in my heart and in spirit.
I also know he would undoubtedly bless this union, so when my groom beckons me to him with a crook of his finger, I don’t hesitate.
Not for one single second.
It takes every ounce of self-control I posses to not sprint down the aisle.
“Te ves hermosa esta noche, mariposita—you look beautiful tonight,” Mateo murmurs once I’m standing before him.
“You do too.” My chest heaves in anticipation.
Mateo strokes my cheek tenderly before stepping back so the officiant can begin.
The officiant clears his throat. “Family and friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the uniting of two hearts. Tonight, we will witness the joining of Mateo Reyes and Seraphine Reynolds in marriage. If there is anyone present who has just cause why this couple should not be united, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
He pauses. When no one speaks, he continues, leading us through the questions of consent and into our vows—which we opted to write ourselves.
“Seraphine, Dios me dio una segunda oportunidad contigo y no la voy a desaprovechar. Eres mi corazon, mi alma, mi luna y mi sol. Te voy a respetar y a cuidar y voy a crecer contigo en las buenas y en las malas, como tu amigo, amante y compañero. Si yo alguna vez pense que eras fragil como las alas de una mariposa, estaba equivocado. Eres fuerte y hermosa y agraciada y no puedo esperar a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo amándote.”
I sway toward him slightly as the rumble of his deep, accented voice rolls over me. “I don’t have a clue of what you just said, but whatever it was, I love you and I absolutely take you as my husband.”
Mateo fights a grin as the officiant leans down and whispers, “Not quite there yet, my dear.”
“Oh.” I duck my head. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Do not apologize, mariposita,” Mateo says, skimming a knuckle along my jaw.
More than anything, I want to plant my lips on his; but we’re definitely not to that part of the ceremony.
“What I said was, God has given me a second chance with you, and I will not waste it. You are my heart, my soul, my sun, and my moon. I will respect you, care for you, and grow with you, through good times and hard times, as your friend, lover, and partner. I once thought you were fragile, like the wings of a butterfly. I was wrong. You are strength and beauty and grace, and I am looking forward to a lifetime of loving you.”
His vows in Spanish had me swooning, but hearing him pledge himself to me in front of God, our friends, and family in English has me ready to get him alone so we can seal our vows with our bodies instead of words.
I tamp down the urge and instead recite vows of my own. “How lucky am I to call you mine? Your love for me and trust in me make me a better person daily. You’re everything I never knew I needed and fill a void in me I never knew existed. You were there for my darkest moments. You believed in me when I didn’t. When I was spiraling out of control, you grounded me. Because of you, I know I am enough. I know I am worthy, wanted, and loved—and I can’t wait to make sure you know the same, day in and day out, for the rest of our lives. I love you, Mateo, and I am proud to call you my husband.”
After we exchange rings and the officiant prays over us, the moment I’ve been waiting for is finally here. “By the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may now kiss the bride.”
Mateo wraps an arm around my waist, pulls me flush against him, and kisses me like his very existence depends on it. Cupping my cheek with his free hand, he moves his lips against mine in a sensuous dance. This kiss is not only a sealing of our marriage, but a promise of what’s to come.
We part—reluctantly—and are introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Reyes. Butterflies fill me at the sound, their wings flapping at warp-speed.
“I love you, Mrs. Reyes,” Mateo whispers, clasping his hand in mine for our walk down the aisle as husband and wife.
“What a beautiful ceremony,” Letty says, the second we reach the end of the aisle.
“Thank you,” I reply, knowing good and well she wanted us to marry in the church.
“It was no St. Peters, but still, very lovely.”
Mateo nods, his lips twitching with a barely suppressed smile. “Thank you, Mamá.”
“And thank you for allowing us to use your yard,” I tack on.
“Of course.” My mother-in-law grins. “Now, come, let us celebrate your union.”
The next several house pass in a blur of toasts, well wishes, dancing, and mingling, until finally only a few stragglers are left.
I try and help with the cleanup, desperate to get my husband alone so I can give him his wedding gift, but Lety isn’t having it.
“You two go; we have this under control,” she says, shooing us out the door.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue, but Mateo doesn’t need to be told twice.
I can’t help but admire his profile as he drives. He’s so insanely handsome—and so totally mine. He takes notice and entwines our hands together and tugs my hand close enough to kiss.
His lips fuel the burning need within me to make this marriage extra official.
“Let me check us in,” he murmurs, idling the truck in front of the hotel entrance. I fidget the entire time he’s gone.
He returns, room key in hand and parks the truck. “Stay put,” he commands, causing me to pout.
At my door, he bends and scoops me into his arms. “Mateo,” I squeal, throwing my arms around his neck. “You don’t have to carry me.”