I reach for his hand and curl mine around it. “It’s a really nice surprise. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But I can keep the Honda for driving to work?”
He rolls his eyes. “If you must.”
“I must.”
Leaning across the center console, he says, “Kiss me.”
So I kiss him because there’s almost nothing else I’d rather do at any given moment.
“If you’re not happy, I’m not happy,” he says. “If you decide you don’t want to keep the G-Wagon, we won’t keep it. It’s no big deal.”
“It’s a big deal that you want me to drive the safest car you could find.”
“Keeping you and Ev and any other kids we have safe is the only thing I care about.”
He’s still grappling with the trauma of seeing his beloved daughter through a near-fatal illness, and knowing that makes me understand one of the primary reasons he wants me to have this particular vehicle. “Then I’ll drive it with pleasure to everywhere but the clinic because it brings you peace of mind.”
“Thank you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you more,” he says as he pulls back into traffic and hits the gas to get us to Abuela’s.
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“I can’t wait to see Everly.”
“I know. This is the longest I’ve been away from her for anything other than work.”
We debated taking her with us to Hawaii, but after a rocky transition, she’s gotten into a good routine in Miami with a preschool she loves and new friends. She spends so much time with Austin’s parents, who live with us, that we decided it would be better for her to stay in her routine. Not to mention, it was the first time we’ve truly had to ourselves since we became a couple. Even though we FaceTimed with her every day, we still missed her like crazy.
I’m almost bouncing in my seat by the time we pull up to Abuela’s, which is mobbed with cars. We end up parking two blocks down the street and are walking to the house when we see Wyatt approaching from the other direction. I’ve been so caught up in getting home to Everly that I almost forgot about his big annual checkup today.
“How’d it go?” I ask him before we even say hello.
My sister is happier with him than she’s ever been in her life, and the thought of anything happening to him is simply unbearable—even if we all know he’s living on borrowed time.
He gives a thumbs-up. “All good. Got my inspection sticker renewed for another year.”
“Oh, thank God.” I hug him tightly. “Thank God.”
“Awww, you guys love me.”
“Yes, we do.”
Dee comes running out of the house, stopping short six feet from him. “You were supposed to text me!”
“I got done early so I came right here. All good under the hood, baby.”
She lets out a cry and runs for him.
He wraps his arms around her and lifts her off her feet.
“Put me down! Your heart!”
“Is in perfect shape, especially since it found you.”
He puts her down and kisses her as Austin gives my hand a tug toward the house. “Let’s give them a minute.”
“Thank God he’s okay.”
“You said it.”
“They’ve only been together a short time, and I already can’t imagine her without him.”
“Me either. They’re a great couple.”
We enter into chaos in Abuela’s kitchen. Every woman in my family, or so it seems, is overseeing some part of the feast, but the only “woman” I want to see is the little one who’s wrapped herself so deeply around my heart that it’s like she’s always been there.
“So glad you made it,” my mom, Elena, says when she hugs me and then Austin.
“Us, too,” I reply.
My mom is wearing a stylish wig after battling stage three breast cancer. She finishes treatment in January, and we’re all counting the days until that nightmare is behind us. That was another reason why I couldn’t bear to miss Christmas in Miami this year.
“Where’s our princess?” Austin asks.
“In the pool with your dad. She can’t wait to see you guys.”
I clap my hands with glee as I accept hugs from Abuela and Nona. “We can’t wait to see her.”
We greet a million other family members, or so it seems, on the way outside where the scent of roasting meat fills the air and makes my mouth water. I was too wound up to eat on the plane, and I’m starving.
Everly sees us coming and lets out a blood-curdling shriek that startles her poor grandfather. Austin’s dad recovers quickly, lifting her out of the pool so she can run to us, soaking wet. But ask us if we care as we engage in a tight group hug.
“Rie! Swim!”
I’m laughing through tears as I breathe in the sweet scent of her blonde hair, which is plastered to her head. She has cute little earplugs, since she contracted an ear infection from too much swimming.