“Hmm.” Hazel’s eyebrows inch toward her hairline in surprise. “You got it.”
She tells me my total and swipes my card before sending me to the end of the counter to wait. Three minutes later, I’m out the door with a beverage in each hand.
I crank my RAV4’s radio to max volume for the ride to the shop and sing every song that plays at the top of my lungs. I hit two red lights on the way and add some pretty sweet dance moves at both of them.
I’m sure I look like a fool, but I’ve found that doing my own version of Carpool Karaoke is really soothing when I feel myself spiraling toward a meltdown. I know I should probably talk to an actual therapist instead of spending my free time Googling coping techniques, but so far, they’re working.
As the shop comes into view, I have to blink to make sure I’m not seeing things. The once dingy, faded gray building is now an eye-catching combination of charcoal with red accents.
I park the car and spring out, excited to get a better look.
“You like it?” Mateo asks from behind me.
“Where did you come from?” I ask, whirling around to face him, my heart racing a mile a minute at his unexpected appearance.
His brown eyes light with a smile that could rival the sun. “I was sitting in my truck when you drove up.” He moves to my side and nods toward the building. “You like?”
I glance up at him. “It’s amazing.”
“There’s more.” His fingers brush mine, as if he’s going to take my hand, but he slides his hands in his pockets instead. “C’mon.”
There’s a large something covered by a tarp leaning against the side of the building. “You ready for this?”
“For what?”
“This!” he exclaims, pulling the tarp away.
I can hardly believe what I’m looking at. Tears well up and fall freely as I step forward to get a closer look. “Mateo.” My voice wavers as a gamut of emotions slam into me. “You… you did this?”
“Sí.”
I run my fingers over the large, round sign. It sports a 1970s GTO over the words Dave’s Garage. It’s everything my dad would have wanted and more.
Still in a state of disbelief, I turn toward him and ask, “You did this for me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God!” I throw myself into his arms with enough force that he stumbles backward a bit.
“Whoa, mariposita.” He reluctantly returns my embrace. “You’re happy? You like it?”
“I love it.” My words come out muffled since my face is pressed firmly to his chest.
“Qué bueno,” he murmurs roughly into my hair.
In this moment, I don’t care that I don’t know what he said, or that I’m still mad at him. All of that takes a back seat as I sink into him and let the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heart soothe all of my hurts.
It physically pains me to pull away from him, but I do. “Thank you, Mateo. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?” I practically shout my question, because after the new look of the shop and the new sign, I can’t wait to see what’s next.
“Inside; let’s go.”
He fishes his keys from his pocket and slides the key into the lock, turns it, and opens the door. I go to move past him, but he lays a hand on my shoulder, halting my progress.
From behind me, he whispers, “Close your eyes.”
He’s so close to me I can smell his mind-altering scent. He’s as mouthwatering as ever, but somehow, here in the dark, he’s more tempting than ever.
“Why?” I whisper back, my heart thundering in my ears.
He leans in closer, dipping his head low enough that his lips brush the shell of my ear. “It’s a surprise, mariposita.”
“Okay, they’re closed.”
“Are they?” He reaches his left hand around and presses it palm down over my eyes. My pulse jumps in response to his touch. “Good. On my count. One… two… three.” I feel him lean over to flip the light switch. “Now!”
I open my eyes and take in a massive red decal that matches the signage he ordered, along with the words “it’s what you do while you’re alive that matters” on the wall we painted white.
“This is too much.” I try to wipe away my tears, but it is a fruitless effort, as more keep falling. “You buying the place was a godsend, but the care you’re taking, the way you’re truly including me and honoring my dad—Mateo, I… don’t know what to say.”
“Shh.” He once again wraps me in his strong arms. “You don’t need to say anything.”
I shake my head, undoubtedly covering his shirt with my tears and snot; I am not a pretty crier. “I do, though. Honestly, there’s no way I can ever repay you. You’ve… you’re a good man, Mateo Reyes.”