“One, two, three…” the kid yells before our picture is taken. For the next shot, we’re given sunglasses and are told to stand arm in arm. “This is your moon shot.”
Drake calls out, “Hold up! Wouldn’t it be fun if we had a picture of you carrying Serafina across the moon?”
“Why would that be fun?” Ben asks.
“Let’s just try it.”
Ben picks me up and holds me like I’m a plutonium bomb or something. I know Drake is trying to get Ben to loosen up, so we actually look like we’re enjoying ourselves and aren’t, in fact, hosts of a germaphobe convention.
“Ben,” I lean over and whisper in his ear.
“Yes …” he looks paralyzed by fear.
“Remember this morning in our hotel room?”
His eyes sort of glaze over and he nods imperceptibly.
“Remember how I nibbled on your neck?”
I hear him gulp.
“I want to do that right now. In fact, you’re so damn sexy in that space suit, I want to rip it right off of you and pick up where we left off.”
Somewhere along the line, I’m no longer trying to relax him by taking his mind off of what we’re doing. I really mean it.
“Serafina …” Ben growls as he brings his face down to mine.
“Yes?”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he kisses me like he’s attaching himself to the only source of oxygen in deep space. We are fused, body and soul, and it is the most amazingly wonderful feeling ever. Ben kisses like he was meant for me. When I feel the tip of his tongue part my lips, I open to him fully. I have no idea how long we make out. A minute? Five? Three hours?
All I know is I have never been more turned on kissing a man as I am at this moment. I’m so focused on Ben that I lose all track of what it is that we’re supposed to be doing. It isn’t until I hear Drake call out, “That’s a wrap!” that I realize our first kiss has just been filmed for national television.
Ben sets me down, looking as shell-shocked as I feel. That kiss had enough force to throw the entire planet off its axis. And that’s when I notice them. The families patiently waiting in line, the moms and dads covering their young children’s eyes while they themselves glare and shake their heads.
“Oh, dear,” Ben mutters. “Sorry about that, folks. It’s for a space movie. You can uncover your children’s eyes now.”
“Yup,” I tell the crowd in a high-pitched voice. “All done.”
“For now,” Ben says, giving me a sexy grin.
Thirty
Ben
It’s five p.m. and we’re currently at The Fondue Factory with Maria and Lorenzo for a painfully early dinner. As soon as we got back to the hotel, they hopped in the backseat of the car and gave me the address. I tried to get out of it — in the name of allowing Serafina time alone with her grandparents. But here I sit, having the sweltering first course of cheese fondue. Seriously, who eats fondue when it’s ninety-five degrees out? Also, am I the only one worried about the repercussions here?
Serafina and her abuela are engrossed in a long conversation about her brother, Zay, who I gather has some sort of pituitary issue based on what they’re saying. Apparently, he has his first girlfriend at the age of thirty-two? And they’re both thrilled for him. But there are more pressing matters at hand here, ladies. We have an old man who’s in serious lactose-intolerance denial eating hot cheese by the spoonful. He just keeps going back for more. Cheese-dipped bacon, apples slices, bread cubes, cherry tomatoes. Lorenzo is sucking them down like an anteater who just found the world’s last termite colony.
Serafina and I are going to have to sleep in the car tonight. In fact, I’d venture to guess that most of the guests in the hotel are going to have to clear out after this meal hits his intestines.
“You didn’t try the bacon yet, Ben,” Maria says, forking a piece of it onto my plate. “It’s so good.”
“Thanks,” I manage with a nod. I stab it and dip it in the communal pot, then scald my lips before saying, “Mmm … delicious.”
She gives me a satisfied nod. “So, you two have a problem. You want to express your love, but you can’t while sleeping on the living room floor. I mean, what’s that gonna do to your backs?”
“That was just a dream, Abuela,” Serafina says in a warning tone.
“But dreams can come true. That’s why I’m going to help you by sharing the secret to Renzo’s and my happy marriage. We’ve been together for sixty-one years already,” she tells me.
“Sixty-one?” Just how old are these people?
Maria must be a mind-reader because she says, “We’re not that old. We started dating when we were fifteen and got married at seventeen.” She puts a couple more pieces of bacon and some bread on my plate and gestures for me to get eating. “Now, marriage isn’t easy, especially at the beginning. Sometimes, when Renzo would leave the house, I used to hope for him to get hit by a bus and SMACK! Over.”
Lorenzo says, “That’s true. She used to tell me that on my way out the door in the morning. She’d yell, ‘I hope you get hit by a bus.’”
The two of them stare into each other’s eyes and laugh like the crazy people I’m starting to suspect they are. But then Renzo reaches over and places his hand on top of Maria’s and gives it a squeeze. “Dios mio, I love you. We had the best time making up, didn’t we?”
Maria chuckles. “Remember how I used to tell you that I hoped a piano would fall on you?”
They laugh like lunatics while Serafina and I look on. When they’re done sharing the delightful memory of Maria’s bloodlust, she turns back to us with a serious expression. “We learned to talk openly about our feelings. I accepted his faults, and I stopped wishing he would die,” Maria says wisely. “Couples are never going to agree on everything. From watching you two on TV, I’ve learned how Ben here is very narrow-minded when it comes to astrology, and I’m guessing ghosts, and religion too.”
Serafina nods, confirming her abuela’s suspicions. Well, thanks for that. Even though she’s right. “I prefer the term logical to narrow-minded,” I tell her.
“Different word, same thing,” Maria tells me. “You need to open your mind up to my granddaughter’s beliefs. That doesn’t mean you have to agree with her; you just have to be willing to listen to her without shutting her down. You both want to help people — you, Ben, with the space stuff, and my Serafina wants to help people live a better life here on this planet. Focus on that part of her work and you’ll be fine. Her heart is in the right place, even if her ideas are a little out there.”
Serafina pulls a face while I grin. “Hey, Abuela, astrology isn’t out there, it’s been studied—”
Holding up her hand, Maria silences her granddaughter’s impending lecture. “You already told me, corazoncita. And that’s part of the problem with you. You think you have to convince the world you’re right about everything, but you’re not. You don’t know everything. No one does.”
Tell her, Maria.
“And neither do you, Ben. Nobody has all the answers, so instead of focusing on facts and fighting over things you can never prove to each other, focus on intentions. You both want to help people, but you do it in different ways. Respect each other’s reasons, and if you can’t agree on the ‘how,’ just leave it alone.”
It’s like we’re in pre-dating fondue counseling or something.
Lorenzo lets out a burp and rubs his belly. “I might have overdone it.”
If only someone could have predicted that…
It’s late in the evening, but instead of going to bed, Serafina and I are lying on two pushed-together lounge chairs on the balcony with blankets and pillows. We decided it would be safer out here because Lorenzo’s cheese addiction hit him hard when we got back. The lights are off inside, so I’m sure Serafina’s grandparents have gone to bed already. My feisty Libra suggested we sleep out here tonight. I love that she’s so spontaneous. Not to mention sexy as anything and an amazing kisser. I really
want to pick up where we left off in the photo shoot, or early this morning, but after Maria’s lecture about love, this all feels very serious, and all our differences are cemented in the front of my mind.
A warm breeze blows off the ocean and even though there are lots of lights from the hotel grounds, we can still make out some of the stars over the water. “Why didn’t we do this last night?” I ask her.
“I guess we just didn’t think of it. Now that we’re out here, though, it seems painfully obvious, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes the most obvious things are easiest to miss,” I tell her.
“Why is that?” Serafina asks, tilting her head to face me.
“Humans are weird. We don’t make much sense most of the time,” I say. “But your grandparents seem to have it all figured out. They don’t take themselves too seriously and they can laugh about … things that would likely end most relationships.”
Serafina chuckles. “That they can. I come from a long line of happily married people and now I’m wondering if that speech is one Abuela got from her abuela.”
“Could be,” I say, reflecting on how I come from a completely opposite family. “I wish someone had shown my parents how to be happy,” I say without really thinking about it. “Although, I don’t think any amount of advice would have helped as far as my father was concerned.”
“Do you remember him?”
“A little. I remember playing catch with him once in the backyard.”
“That sounds nice.”
I sigh and stare out at the night sky to avoid eye contact while I unburden my soul. “Not really. I wasn’t good at it and he wasn’t exactly patient.”
Serafina reaches over and slips her fingers through mine. “I’m sorry you had such a bad father.”
“Me too. But my mom’s amazing and she more than made up for his absence.” I offer Serafina a small smile. “I’d do anything for my mom,” I tell her, thinking about how my mom wants to try her dating app when it’s live, and how badly I don’t want her to with her rocky history with men. But if I tell Serafina that, she’ll hate me. Which means I can’t tell her how I signed up for the app just to prove that it’s a dud.
I chew on my bottom lip for a second while I contemplate my options. Gwen pops into my mind and a pang of guilt comes over me. I have the perfect woman back in Manhattan who thinks we’re dating. And here I am, falling for the last person I should be. But it’s happening, whether I like it or not.
As soon as we get back to New York, I’m going to have to cancel my account and tell Gwen I’m not able to go with her to the engagement party. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to Serafina.
“You seem far away,” Serafina says in a gentle tone. She leans over to me, then turns my face to hers with one hand and gives me a soft, slow kiss. Suddenly I forget all about my plans and my concerns and let myself disappear into this moment, right now with her.
Thirty-One
Serafina
My grandmother’s advice to me and Ben about keeping an open mind seems to have been very well received on his part. Ever since Abuela’s talk, he hasn’t disparaged my app once. He’s even asked me some questions and listened to the answers without a pained expression on his face.
We stayed up almost all night on the balcony, snogging each other senseless and talking about everything from our childhoods to our dreams to what our favorite cereals are. I’m obviously a Fruit Loops girl, and Ben eats steel cut oats every morning but wishes it was a bowl of Frosted Flakes because they’re ggrrrrreeeattt. He’s got a playful side. He hides it well, but it’s there.
Our flight back to New York was delightful. We held hands and kissed and just kept right on talking. I feel like he knows me better than my best friends do. Big things, little things, we shared it all. For instance, he told me all about his cat Mr. Spock (how adorably nerdy is that?) and I told him all about my love of circus peanuts — not actual peanuts, but the rubbery, orange candy version. SO good.
We skipped our morning segment this week on Wake Up America! because we were in Florida, so we have a reprieve before the whole country witnesses our lip-lock. I texted Waltraut to see if she could not show that part, but her response was evasive. I totally get it. I mean, what we gave the network was ratings gold, especially since so far Ben and I have done little more than fight when we’re on the air. It’s just that, with our relationship so new, I don’t want to come out to the whole country before we know if we have staying power.
Ben is coming over tonight, which gives me an entire day to visualize my apartment through his eyes. I’m more than a little nervous. It’s not that my overstuffed furniture and eclectic knickknacks aren’t perfect; they are. It’s just I imagine Ben’s apartment is sterile and totally lacking in imagination. Which leads me to believe he won’t appreciate my extensive assortment of Native American dream catchers or my decorative hookah collection. I even briefly consider taking down the beaded crystal curtain I use in lieu of a bathroom door.
My front door bursts open with a crash and Charley charges at me like I’m a bullfighter and she’s ready to do battle. “You’re home! Tell me everything!”
“What would you like to know? NASA was really cool, and I even got to go into a retired space shuttle.”
“Who cares? How did it go with you and Ben?”
While advanced beyond her years, my young friend is still only fifteen, so I’m not going to go into great detail. I answer, “He kissed me on national television. It’ll probably air on Monday.”
“What!?” She flops down on the couch next to me. “Did he kiss you kiss you or just kiss you?”
“What’s the difference?” I’m pretty sure I know the difference, but like I said, I’m not going to volunteer anything.
Charley kicks her feet up on my coffee table and scoffs. “Did he kiss your hand or your mouth?”
I point to my mouth and laugh when she jumps up and starts to dance around. “OMG, are you dating? Are you in love? What?”
“I think we’re dating,” I tell her. “Obviously, we aren’t in love, as we just started dating…”
She holds her hand up. “Stop. I’m a firm believer in love at first sight. Rom-Coms are my life. I will not have you disparage the voodoo of insta-love before I even go out on my first date.”
I can’t contain my laughter. “The voodoo of insta-love?”
She nods her head forcefully. “Having an IQ of one seventy-five doesn’t deter me from romantic notions. In fact, I would argue that I need more magic to balance out all the real data. As a Libra, I’m sure you get that.”
“Kid,” I tell her. “Believe in all the magic you want. I’m a total fan.”
“You’re never going to guess what I did yesterday,” Charley says.
“You went to Coney Island and overdosed on footlong hot dogs.”
“I wish. Try again,” she orders.
“You walked to Brooklyn all by yourself to check out the Bushwick Street art.”
She releases a long sound like a buzzer going off to indicate I’m wrong again. “I was interviewed by The Post!”
“What? Zay never told me. How did it go? When is it going to run? Tell me everything.”
Charley grabs a donut hole off the plate in front of me before saying, “It was great. Shelby’s mom is so cool. She’d already interviewed people from my school and they may have mentioned how amazing they all thought I was.”
Raising my eyebrows in question, I say, “Nice. What kind of things did they say?”
“She wouldn’t tell me that. She just said they really seemed to love me.” Charley releases an involuntary shiver of joy. “If it’s true, I might go back and take some classes even though I’ve already graduated. You know, I could do theater or pottery or maybe even learn another language.”
“What a terrific idea,” I tell her. “It might help you acclimate to Yale better to be as social as you can before you go.”
“I have a confession,” she says quietly.
“What’s that?”
“Sometimes I wish that I were a normal kid with a normal IQ so I could have had a normal educational experience. A lot of times I really hate being different.”
“I get it,” I tell her. “But being different is what makes you special. Would you rather peak in high school or peak when you’re an adult?”
“That’s an unfair question. Obviously, I want success for as long as I can have it which would mean waiting. But I also want to have normal high school experiences too. I want a first kiss, I want to go to prom, I want to belong.” She sounds so defeated.
I pull Charley close to my side and tell her, “Whatever your experience, there will always be things you wished were different. That’s just life. The only thing you can control is your attitude. With a good attitude, you increase your resilience and change your perspective.”
She tilts her head back and forth while rolling her eyes. “Okay, Mom.”
We spend the rest of the day researching why our app isn’t proving effective for me. According to Charley, it’s tweaked to the point of perfection. Yet, since my last failed blind date, I’ve received messages from three other men, all of whom come across as total losers. One of them has been unemployed, by choice, for four years and claims that, while he can’t afford to take me to dinner, he’d be happy to go out and let me pay.
The next one was a high school biology teacher who shared that he has a soap allergy. It’s been twenty years since he’s used an actual cleaning agent on his body. When he confessed to really enjoying the organic smell of the human body, I was out. I really love the smell of clean.
The third guy was a stockbroker and claimed that the stock market is his life so I should expect a crash course in the best yielding hedge funds. Yawn and pass.
Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3) Page 16