American Fairytale (Dreamers)

by Adriana Herrera

  I looked over at Tom, who was staring at me again with an amused expression, like I was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He was dressed down today, just gray slacks and a burgundy cashmere sweater. The red made the sexy salt and pepper at his temples stand out even more. It was a challenge not to stare, to be honest.

  “So you’re Dominican?” I didn’t mean to sound like I thought he was shady, but I was barely hanging on to my sanity by this point.

  More rich and velvety laughter escaped his lips. The husky sound reminded me of being on my knees and him asking me if I wanted his cock down my throat. I coughed to cover the moan that almost came out of my mouth.

  Tom’s eyes widened like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  Shit.

  He cleared his throat and leaned in to answer my question. “Well my father’s American, but he’s lived in the DR since the seventies. He was a marine during the ’65 occupation. He fell in love with the island and the people while he was there.” His lips turned up on a lopsided smile.

  Working with this guy was going to be torture.

  “When he left he vowed to return someday. He served two tours in Vietnam, and only returned to the U.S. long enough to get his GI Bill degree. In ’74, he moved to Santo Domingo and took a job as a high school math teacher at the international school. He met my mom about six months later and that was all she wrote.” He smiled fondly at that. “I came to the States for college and stayed. My family are all in DR though, so I go back a few times a year.”

  Melissa was the first one to react to his story. “You rarely hear stories of Americans immigrating and settling in other countries, even though there are so many living as expats all over the world. Thanks for sharing that, Tom.”

  I knew I should say something, but Tom’s whole vibe was really throwing me off my game.

  He was so...unlikely.

  “One of my best friends is Dominican. He came from DR with his mom when he was six. We grew up together in the Bronx.”

  His smiled turned just a tiny bit mischievous then. “Is that how you recognized the accent?”

  I shrugged and tried hard not to moon over the sexy dimple on his right cheek. “Well you do sound like Nesto, but there are a lot of Dominicans in New York City, as you probably know.”

  He dipped his head before he answered. “I do. I’ve lived here for most of the last twenty years. With the exception of two years of grad school in Boston and short-term stints overseas for business.”

  This conversation felt too intimate, like it was almost wrong to have Melissa here to witness it, still I kept talking. “I was born here but my mom’s Cuban, so we made the mandatory pilgrimage through Miami. We came up here when I was thirteen.”

  I had no fucking clue why I was giving him my bio in detail, but I didn’t seem to be able to keep my mouth shut. It was the look he was giving me. Like he wanted to throw me on the floor and order me to have another go at his dick.

  Between trying to keep my tone professional and managing all the feelings being this close to Tom were inducing, my body was trying to do too much, and my mouth was taking the hit.

  I needed to get this conversation back to the actual project before I offended this guy. I regrouped quickly and put my game face on. “I’m fluent in Spanish, so if that’s how you prefer to communicate, I’m happy to do so.” I flashed him my best Becky smile and tried to bring this motherfucking meeting back on track. “Melissa tells me that you’d like to be kept abreast on how the project progresses. Is there anything in particular you’d like me to be aware of? I’d be happy to send you updates.” Rambling, I was rambling.

  “That sounds great, Camilo.”

  I clenched my fists under the table before I said more. Because I knew this was where I would be doomed. “Or we could meet periodically. Just say the word.”

  Tom kept looking at me with an amused expression and it was fucking unnerving. Was he mocking me or did he think I was funny?

  What the hell?

  My face must have started to show how anxious I was because he broke eye contact and when he looked at me again his face was softer. No more smirking. He leaned in a little like he was going for more approachable body language. The problem was him getting closer only got me more worked up.

  “I’m not sure if Melissa told you, but the reason I requested someone bilingual is because I’d like my mother to get some updates too.” At the mention of his mother his face lit up. A Dominican boy who loved his mother.

  Like I needed one more reason for my ill-advised crush to grow.

  “Mom doesn’t speak a lot of English and I may bring her to a meeting when she’s in town for a visit.” His face changed for an instant, and it was clear whatever he was remembering was painful. I wondered if his dad had been an abusive asshole, but he smiled when talking about his parents, so maybe it was something else. Whatever was on his mind must’ve had to do with his reason for doing this project. I wanted to ask, but I managed to keep my prying to myself.

  I nodded, already so invested in making sure things with Thomas went smoothly. “That’s absolutely fine. How would you prefer that we communicate?”

  I hated myself for hoping he said face-to-face, because how could that have any sort of good outcome?

  Tom’s face turned serious again, like he was also struggling with how far we were going to take this farce. A few seconds passed and I sat there with my hands gripping the edge of the chair, waiting, because I knew. I fucking knew this was it. If Tom said he’d be fine with getting updates by email it meant whatever it was we’d shared at the gala had just been a bit of fun for him.

  Usually being in a situation where someone else clearly held the upper hand, would send me running in the other direction. But as I sat there all I could think was, please say you want to see me again.

  He glanced at Melissa who just sat there beaming, blissfully ignorant of the unfolding drama, then back to me. “If it’s alright with Melissa and it doesn’t interfere too much with your responsibilities, I’d like for us to meet once a week, Camilo.” My heart thumped so hard I almost pressed a hand to my chest. “Just during the initial stages, after things start moving we can adjust.”

  Melissa piped up then and I was surprised she could get a word out, with how hard she was grinning. “That sounds totally fine, Tom. Camilo and I already spoke and he will be able to meet with you as needed.”

  I tipped my head in agreement, as I tried hard not to show how much his answer was affecting me. The feeling of utter elation at his words should have tipped me off to just how inappropriate this all was, but I ignored all that shit and just sat there nodding. I looked over and smiled at Melissa whose head was also bobbing up and down. “That should be fine, Mr. Hughes—”

  “Tom. Please, call me Tom.” His face looked so earnest, like he was trying to do everything he could to make himself non-intimidating.

  I assented and when I spoke again there was a warmth in my voice that had no place at a work meeting. “Once a week sounds good. My schedule is pretty full, so if it works for you I’d prefer if we set a day and time to meet on a weekly basis. That way I can have it in my calendar as an ongoing thing.”

  He smiled again, and this time Thomas from Friday night creeped out a little.

  He was so fucking sexy.

  “That’s fine. My schedule is relatively flexible right now,” he said, pulling out his wallet, then passed me a business card.

  “Why don’t you email me some times that work for you, and we can go from there.” He stood up then, our meeting was over, apparently. Melissa and I got our asses in gear and stood up as well.

  I extended my hand to him as I got up. “I’ll be in touch before the end of the day.”

  When he took my hand in his I was sure I saw sparks. “Looking forward to it, Camilo.”

  Melissa’s grin was still in ful
l force as we walked out of her office. “Tom, thanks so much for coming today, we’re incredibly excited and grateful for this project. It’s a game changer for us.”

  He seemed happy and genuinely pleased at her excitement. Keeping my shit together with this man was going to be an uphill battle.

  “I’m glad we can move forward. I’ll have my finance person contact you regarding some information we need.” He turned to me again. “Thank you both.”

  With that he walked out to the elevators with Melissa as I stood there stunned. I knew I was in over my head with this whole situation. This could cost me my job, or worse, could cost the agency a once in a lifetime donation. I should have been worried.

  I should have come clean to Melissa.

  Instead I power walked down to my office and my calendar, so I could email Tom with a time and place to see him again.

  Tom

  “Daddy!” I opened my arms and smiled as my daughter, Libertad, ran down the steps of her preschool towards me.

  “Hola, mi amor,” I said, crouching down to meet her. “Did you have a nice time with Papa Maxwell?”

  She bobbed her little head, making her brown curls bounce around. She turned to point at a group of kids on the playground behind the school. “Can I keep playing with Bella and Anouk?”

  I grinned as I saw the two little girls waving her over. “Sure, baby, but then I want to hear about your weekend.” She screamed an “okay, Daddy” as she ran back to her friends, while I stayed behind. My ex, Maxwell, and I shared custody of Libe, and she’d been with him since Friday after school.

  Maxwell and I had been married for a year and not in a great place in our relationship when we started the surrogacy process to have Libertad. I was reluctant about the timing, especially since I’d wanted to adopt, but Maxwell pushed so hard for it I eventually relented. In hindsight I could see the baby was his attempt at saving our relationship, doing something that forced us to be together.

  To make me pay attention.

  I’d been working and traveling nonstop back then, first running my company which was expanding at breakneck speed, and then preparing to go public with it. I agreed because I wanted a child too, but I didn’t stop my work pace at all. Eventually Maxwell’s loneliness turned into an affair that broke our marriage. We divorced a month after Libe was born.

  As I looked at her now, talking to her friends, so carefree, it was hard to imagine my life without her. Things with Maxwell and I were much better now, but they’d been rocky for a while. He went into a bit of a tailspin after we split up and it was almost a year before he was in a place where he could be a parent to Libe. I blamed myself for his state of mind at the time, so I took care of the baby until he could be more present.

  It was a hard year for all of us. If it hadn’t been for the help of my mom, Priya and Maxwell’s mom I don’t know what I would have done. Having Libertad was worth it though, she was the greatest joy in my life. I bit back a smile as I saw her twirling around and laughing with her friends.

  I checked the time and waved Libe over. “Come on, sweetheart.”

  She begrudgingly started walking to me as I checked in with her teacher. I grabbed Libe’s little hand, and we started the walk towards our house just a few blocks away right in the heart of East Harlem.

  I loved my neighborhood, there was so much energy everywhere. Three years ago, after my two business partners and I sold our company for more money than we knew what to do with, I bought a renovated brownstone here. Sanjay and Priya bought the house next door to mine, which had been on the market at the same time. Heni, the third one in our trio from grad school, got a condo just a few blocks away.

  I fell in love with Harlem and its history as a Columbia college student, and when I had the chance to settle anywhere in New York City I wanted, Harlem was the spot I picked. My friends and I were all committed to the neighborhood and being part of the revitalization happening here. We were also invested in preserving the culture, and helping the people who already had roots in Harlem stay in their homes. To not let gentrification erode the heritage of this part of New York City, which had given this country, this world, so much brilliance.

  We were getting close to our street when Libe finally let me know my attention needed to be on her. “Daddy, you didn’t even ask me how my day was at school.”

  “Sorry, baby, I got distracted. How was your day?” I asked as I picked her up and hoisted her on my hip.

  “It was good, except for the boys being so mean to us.” I tried not to laugh at how aggravated she looked. There was a full-on turf war going on at that preschool. Every day it was like the Bloods and the Crips over there.

  “What happened?” Libe scrunched her face as she shook her head in disgust at whatever the boys had done.

  “Well Mauro was pushing Bella and me on the playground. We told him to stop, but he just got meaner and told us we were dumb.” At this she rolled her eyes, and she could have been my mother in that moment. She had very fair skin and Maxwell’s green eyes, but her hair was a mass of tight curls. My mom always said, “Esa cabecita es Dominicana.”

  That personality was definitely from the Dominican side of the family. “I told him he was the dumb one. Everyone knows girls are smarter than boys.” Priya and my mother had indoctrinated Libe in girl power and feminism since birth. She was not about to let any boy call her anything.

  “Mi amor, you know the rule about name calling.” I tried hard to keep a straight face, but her outraged expression made it very hard. “Just because he said it to you doesn’t make it okay for you to do it to him.”

  Her dramatic slump was almost too much.

  “But, Daddy, he doesn’t even know how to write his name yet!”

  “It’s still not okay to call him names, honey, people learn in different ways.”

  “Okay, but I don’t like him.” She pouted and again I almost burst out laughing.

  “You don’t have to like him, but you do have to be kind.”

  “Can I have a cookie when we get home?” She could have a future in politics with those pivoting skills.

  “We were talking about name calling. What are you going to do the next time Mauro calls you a name?”

  Another eye roll. “I will stand up for myself wespeckfully.”

  I gave her a big kiss and she giggled. “Exactly. And yes we can do snack and play when we get home and then Tia Priya and Tio Sanjay are coming over. You’ll hang out with Tia, and Tio and I will work for a bit.”

  “Yes!” She pumped her little fist in the air at the mention of time with Priya. “Are they staying for dinner?”

  “We can ask them, I’m sure they’d love to.”

  “Okay good.” With that she put her little head against my shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth. I held her tight as we walked up to our house. Suddenly a random thought popped into my head.

  How would Camilo get along with Libe? Would he be turned off by me having a kid?

  An image of Camilo and Libe sitting down in my living room playing and laughing came into my mind with such clarity it felt like a memory. The idea of sharing moments like this with someone, exchanging a look at Libe’s antics, was a yearning I’d not indulged in since the divorce. I could see it now though, and Camilo’s face was right there, front and center.

  This infatuation was getting ridiculous.

  As I walked up the stoop to my door I thought about my earlier meeting with Camilo and Melissa. He held himself so tightly, like he was bracing for the world to fuck with him. I knew I’d freaked him out when I’d asked for weekly face-to-face meetings. I wondered if he could tell I was full of shit.

  Obviously, I didn’t need that level of involvement in the project. It was just an excuse to see him again. I wasn’t even sure what my endgame was with any of it, but when I saw a chance to get more time with Camilo—who I thought had disap
peared from my life forever last Friday—all I could do was find a way to lock it down.

  Chapter Five

  Camilo

  “Last time I take your advice at a fancy gala!” I yelled as I barged into Ayako’s office, firmly closing the door behind me. I paced the space in front of her desk a couple of times, then slumped into a chair while she stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Could you please start by telling me what the hell you’re talking about? I thought you were with Melissa and that donor.”

  I pulled hard on my hair when she said the word donor and covered my face with my hands. “It’s the same guy.”

  “Who’s the same guy?” Ayako asked sounding exasperated.

  I took my hands off my face and put my head back, staring at the ceiling, before facing her again.

  “Tom, the guy from the gala, is the fucking mystery donor!”

  Ayako’s face went from confusion, to realization and then horror.

  “Oh shit.”

  I hung my head sighing. “Exactly.”

  “Oh my God, did he say something at the meeting? Was he an asshole about it? He seemed like a nice guy, but we know that counts for nothing.”

  I tried to collect my thoughts and tamp down the panic, which had returned with a vengeance. I was going to give my brain whiplash from the hot and cold. One moment I’m elated about getting to see Tom again, and the next I’m having a meltdown because I have to see him again.

  “No he was fine, actually went out of his way to make me feel comfortable. He didn’t mention anything.”

  Ayako relaxed her shoulders. “That’s good then, right?”