by Dee Tenorio
“Yeah?” He smiled, damn him. “By who?”
“Chloe.”
“And she’s the only one you can think of?”
Why did she feel like a child trying to play chess against a professional? “Miranda and Trisha.”
He nodded, offering no encouragement. Waiting.
“How long is this list supposed to be?” she finally demanded, irritated with his patience and quiet. This was Raul. He was supposed to be ranting and bitching about her attacking his mother.
“As long as you want it to be.” His gaze took on a dark softness, like the caresses he gave her just before he kissed her. “And as long as it includes me.”
Penelope’s heart jolted in her chest, sending reverberations along her nerves to her fingertips and toes. “What?”
“I love you, Penelope.”
She felt as if a gong went off in her ears. Was he being cruel? His face didn’t read as though enjoying her discomfort, but why else would he say something like that? “Why are you saying that?” she finally asked, because the question wouldn’t stop repeating in her head, practically sputtering her disbelief.
“Because I’m tired of waiting for you to figure it out on your own. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve always loved you. Even when I was too stupid to understand how much or what it meant.”
“Like a friend. You loved me like a friend.” Imagining anything else would hurt too much. You couldn’t just walk away from people you truly loved. You couldn’t not show that love to them by choice. If what he was saying was true, he’d done both—on purpose. She’d almost rather have meant nothing than to have been so easy to cut out.
“That’s in there too. Along with loving you as a woman. As my lover.”
Her face heated so fast she had to stand up and take her mug back to the sink, untouched.
Too late, she realized he’d followed her. The hairs at the back of her neck prickled just before his dark forearms landed on each side of her, hands cuffing the lip of the sink, trapping her between. The heat of his body seeped into her back just as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.
“Does it really scare you that much, the idea of me loving you?”
Not answering that in this lifetime. “You throw that word around too easily.” Her hands shook as she turned on the water to rinse the mug.
He pried the mug from her hand, turning off the tap before taking hold of her other hand and folding both their arms around her. Tightly nestled against him, his scent both soothing and agitating, she almost relaxed. She didn’t want him to feel her shaking, to feel her fear. She wasn’t even sure what she was afraid of. But terror raced with her blood through her veins and she wasn’t at all sure which was winning.
“I’ve never said those words to a woman who wasn’t a blood relative, querida. Never even wanted to.”
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice sounded thready, desperate, but he wouldn’t let her go and she needed to get away from this conversation.
“You don’t trust me. I understand that. It’s killing me, but I understand it.” He lowered his chin to her shoulder. “You ran tonight. You thought I wouldn’t support you, wouldn’t support Chloe.”
A sob escaped. Not like the time she’d cried all over him, this one was embarrassed anger all the way through. “I attacked your mother, Raul. What else were you going to do?”
“Hold you. Like I’m holding you right now.”
She stilled, only the tremor in her body and the fluttering beat of her heart moving. “You weren’t angry?”
“I was pissed as hell,” he answered easily, not sounding the slightest bit mad. “But I was worried, too. I’ve never seen you do something like that, Pen. Never. I knew the second it happened that something more had to have been going on. But you never even considered telling me what it was. Because all this time, you never once thought I might be on your side. That’s what we need to fix. That’s where we need to start. Tonight. Right now.”
The more he spoke, the deep rumble that she could feel at her back and in her heart, the less she shook. She realized, distantly, that her hands had curled around his arms, holding him in place as much as he held her.
“I’m always on your side, Penelope. No matter what, all our lives, I always have been. You know that. Tell me you knew that.”
She stopped fighting, her head falling back on his broad shoulder. When she was young, she’d known that all the way to her soul. That was why she’d gone to be near him at every opportunity. Why he was the one she’d searched out when her father died. She’d known with every fiber that he wouldn’t make fun of her for her misguided affection. That he cared about her. Even that he would never use her, though she’d made herself available for use at every opportunity.
All that had changed when he left. She’d felt so abandoned. So…betrayed. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t even his fault, but she’d held his leaving against him. As if he’d done it to her instead of for himself.
Because if she hadn’t, she’d never have been able to move on.
Except, she hadn’t moved on, not at all. Her heart still beat…for him. Her soul still ached…for him.
If he were ever truly gone from her life, if there was no chance to see his face or feel his touch or taste his kiss, the tattered pieces of her heart would shatter irreparably.
And nothing would ever change that.
She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting that knowledge but unable to deny it. “If I trusted you and you left again—”
“I’m not leaving you. Ever again.”
“You don’t know that.” She couldn’t count on promises like that. No one could. He had a dangerous job. He could get bored. He could feel tied down. There were dozens of reasons why he could disappear from her life.
“Okay, then, ask yourself this. Have I ever been unsure of anything I’ve set out to do? And be honest, querida. Have I ever gone back on any decision I knew was the right one for me?”
A rush of memory went through her mind, a thousand slides in a few heartbeats. The boy, so cocky and sure as he taught himself to ride his bike, falling over and over again until he had it right. The teenager, his independence sharpened with burgeoning resentment. The man-boy, the one who watched her with a heated gaze but pushed her away with a cool detachment. The adult determined to open his life to a child who expected him to change her life for the better. Determined to open Penelope’s life too, to change it for the better as well, and doing it, little by little by little.
He was right. He’d never gone back on a promise once he made it. And when he set himself a course, he never veered from it. Not once.
Except…
“Yes,” she breathed, opening her eyes in realization.
He was so startled for a second that he let go and she turned in his loosened arms. Dismay parted his lips with silent question, a confused scowl pulling his brows close together. But the strangest laugh bubbled in Penelope’s throat, escaping from her still-quivering lips. Before he could demand anything, she pressed a soft kiss on him, then a second and a third, before wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing tight.
“Is this good or bad?” he asked, his wide hands curving her against him.
“This is good.” How many times had he told her that being in Seattle had felt wrong. That he’d had to make himself stay there, though his soul had demanded he come home. Not just to his family. To her. Relieved tears slipped over her cheeks and she hugged him so tight she almost wondered if he could breathe. But he wasn’t pushing her away, so she figured he didn’t mind. “It’s very good.”
She felt his relieved sigh against her own body. “Excellent. Now how about you explain how the hell me going back on my word is a good thing?”
“It’s simple.” She sniffed before she pulled back, not out of his embrace—his hold didn’t slip that far and she had no desire to go—smoothing her fingers over the plane of his cheek. “You came back home.”
His scowl didn’t lift. “I do
n’t get it.”
“You were absolutely sure that living far away was the only way to be happy. But you couldn’t forget me, no matter how hard you tried.” She used a finger to smooth the lines formed by his brows bunching together. “Don’t you understand? The only reason you’ve ever changed your mind was to come back to me. And even that took twelve years.”
She had to bring her fingers to her own mouth now as that bizarre, almost hysterical laugh tried to get out again. “I know there was more to it. There was your family to consider, but…you’re the most stubborn man I know. The most stubborn person I’ve ever known. If the only reason you were willing to break your word in our whole lives was to get to me, why would you break it to get away?”
His brows finally lifted, rising high before he shook his head as if shaking off confusion. “Fuck it, as long as it makes sense to you.”
His kiss muffled the sound of her laughter. And only when she’d stopped laughing, her tears dry and forgotten, did he lift his head again. He kept his forehead against hers. “So, you’re going to give me the benefit of the doubt then?”
Penelope closed her eyes, her chest tight, but for once not with the fear that she was making yet another mistake. This felt bright and sweet. Like…hope. “Yes.”
“You believe me when I say I love you?”
Her fingers curled around his collar, but she looked him in the eyes and nodded.
He gave a satisfied grunt. “What about that I’m not letting you go?”
Her fingers tightened. “That depends.”
“On what? And try to tell me without choking me.” At her gasp, he stole a quick kiss, taking one of his hands off her waist to press her fingers back to his neck. “Fine, choke me.”
“I don’t want to choke you.”
“Okay, then just tell me. Whatever you need, however long it takes, Pen, I’ll do it for you.” His earnestness dug a little deeper into her heart.
“When you say you’re not letting go, what does that mean for you? What am I supposed to expect?”
His big hand cupped the side of her face, sliding back over her hair. “It means that for the rest of my life, I’m devoted to you, Penelope. You and our daughter and anyone else that comes along. You’re my family now, the most important things in my life. I want to marry you. I want to stand by you. Defend you, argue with you, love you, every minute of every day. Forever. That’s what I want you to expect. That’s what I want you to demand.”
She could only stare up at him wordlessly.
“I’m going to earn your trust, wholeheartedly, and you’re going to know that you have mine. No matter what.”
“Even if I whack your mom?” She bit her lips to keep from grinning.
“Even then.” His answering grin was tinged with pain though.
She touched it with a kiss. “I really am sorry, Raul. I just…I lost control. I—” When he shushed her, she frowned, knowing that evasive look too well. “What did you do?”
His shoulder hitched beneath her hand. “I made a choice. The right choice.”
“Which was?”
“You. Chloe. I told my mother that until she accepted us all, I wouldn’t be there.”
“Raul, no.” She didn’t want to tear him from his family. She’d never wanted that.
“Yes. This is where I belong. With my family.” He kissed her softly.
When he lifted his head again, she watched him with a narrow gaze. “That line isn’t going to get you out of trouble every time, you know.”
The devilish grin came back. In force.
But when her heartbeat skipped and started again because of it, stumbling and tumbling in her chest, she didn’t mind in the slightest.
{{{
Penelope woke up slowly to the realization that Christmas had finally arrived. Not the usual holiday wakeup, which generally involved Chloe racing into her room and jumping on the bed to wake her up. This time she was quietly nestled in blankets and warmth. Muscled arms wrapped around her, the same as they had every morning that Raul wasn’t on duty. She lifted her lids, looking down at the dark hand cupping her bare breast with sleepy possessiveness. Smiling, she took stock, trying to figure out where her limbs were in connection to his. Hopelessly tangled, as usual. His thigh between hers, her head on his biceps, his face in her hair, her hand under his wrist, holding tight.
He rumbled, some incomprehensible mumbling that made her smile, and cuddled tighter. Sleep twined around her, pulling her down into gentle darkness. She’d almost drifted off, only dimly aware of him shifting again to kiss her nape. “Love you.”
She absently rubbed his arm, warming as she always did when he said that, which was often. So often that she’d have to bite her lips to keep from saying it back. Not that she didn’t want him to know so much as that it never seemed the right way to tell him.
Wake up. Brush your hair, brush your teeth, I love you.
Go to work, kiss him goodbye as he picks up Chloe, oh yeah, I love you.
Get home, make dinner, clean the kitchen and by the way, I love you.
It always seemed too mundane to mention right then. But those unsuspecting moments were always the ones when the feeling crept upon her most. In the quiet times. So when he murmured the words, she didn’t quite have the wherewithal to hold the sentiment inside. “Mm-hmm, love you too.”
“What?” The sudden alertness to his voice had her snapping her eyes open in horror.
“What?” she asked stupidly, brain racing for recourse.
He sat up, the blankets pulling with him, making her scrabble for the sheet. Somehow she didn’t think that excited grin came from her flash of nudity. Both dimples were present and he was all but jumping up and down next to her. Maybe this holiday wasn’t so different after all. “You said you loved me.”
“No, I didn’t.” But the lie wasn’t meant to fool anyone. She was already holding back a smile.
“Yes! You did!” He was laughing, diving over her and kissing her face while she struggled for her dignity. It was nearly impossible to find with him poking her ticklish spots to drag the sheet out of her death grip so he could wrap her around himself and crow. “You love me. I knew it, I knew you were going to tell me soon.”
“No,” she laughed, struggling not to giggle but failing miserably. He tickled and kissed and wrestled until she screamed with it. Especially when he settled over her, all sleep-warmed and happy, his arms around her and their legs tangled all over again.
“Say it again.” He smiled down at her, his hair in a spiky disarray, his eyes dancing with pleasure, the dark brown color like honeyed chocolate. When he looked at her like that, there was no denying him.
This was okay, she realized. All the other times would have been fine too, but telling him like this… This was perfect. “I love you, Raul.”
Her reward was a kiss that had her glad they didn’t have any clothes to get rid of. “There, was that so hard?”
She wrapped her leg around his hip. “Well, now that you mention it—”
They both froze at the sound of something metal clanging downstairs. Raul frowned down at her before leaping off her and the bed, already grabbing for his pants. Penelope dragged on her robe while more clanging—was that voices?—echoed up the stairs. Whoever was down there wasn’t being subtle.
Raul gave her a sharp look when she followed him to the stairs, but it didn’t last long as he obviously recognized whoever it was. He smiled, just the slightest bit strained at the corners, and reached out a hand to her.
“Who is it?”
“You’d better come and see for yourself.” He led the way down, keeping a firm grip on her fingers once she realized her house had been invaded, not by Christmas elves or by a fat man in a red suit, but by a horde of present- and food-bearing Montengas.
When they stopped halfway down, she stared over the rail of her own staircase in shock as kids of all ages deposited present after present around the tree she, Chloe and Raul had decorated only last weekend.
The adults were carrying in foil-covered dishes, some still in pots, most of them still hot, given the number of oven mitts. Mortified to be naked beneath the thick terry robe, she clutched the throat and the flap over the legs closed with each hand as his sisters waved and their husbands did some kind of chin-lifting acknowledgement to Raul. Not that he had any shame at being caught shirtless at seven in the morning. And right in the middle of it, Chloe was directing traffic, pointing cousins in one direction, adults to the kitchen. Pen forgot to be self-conscious when she recognized the silver medal hanging over the collar of Chloe’s Angels uniform PJs.
“Raul, she’s wearing it.”
He glanced up at Penelope for a second before following her line of sight to Chloe. “Well, I’ll be a son of a—”
Penelope smacked his shoulder as Thomas moved carefully into the doorway of the house.
“What was that for?” With all the people milling around, it took him a second to realize his father was headed their way. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Thomas stopped at the foot of the steps, waiting it seemed for them to finish coming down. Penelope almost tripped, but Raul steadied her by slipping his arm around her waist, something Thomas clearly noted. And, to her embarrassment, seemed to approve.
“What’s going on, ’Apa?”
“Your daughter didn’t tell you?”
Uh-oh. They all turned their heads to look for Chloe, but smart girl that she was, she was suddenly—inexplicably—missing from the living room.
“What did she do?” Penelope wondered if she should be dreading this or not.
“She rode out to the house last week and demanded to see her grandmother.”
Penelope gave Raul a look, because the only way Chloe could have gotten loose was on his watch. He started making sputtering noises, but she shushed the excuses with a roll of her eyes. Clearly, Chloe was too much her father’s child.