Caffeinated Reviewer

I’m standing in a Baltimore alleyway, freezing the only family jewels I inherited from my father off. This is completely against my nature. I was born in the Dominican Republic. My Caribbean body craves the heat and hates the layers of clothing I’m wearing. I should be inside with Ayla, drinking hot chocolate. But I can’t have this phone conversation inside near my daughter. I need to resolve this dispute with my former mother-in-law before I go back.

“I know you’re her father and probably want to spend Christmas with her,” Mrs. Morales says.

Probably? Probably want to spend Christmas with my child?

I try not to laugh at her statement. Her dismissiveness of me and my feelings is nonsensical, bordering on comical. I can still hear her, on the day her daughter left us, saying, “She’s gone, Oliver. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Shake your mind off that day. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“I do want to spend Christmas with her. Every parent wants to spend the holidays with their child.” I keep my voice as neutral as I can.

She inhales sharply, the sound echoing on the line. I didn’t mean it as a dig, but the shoe may have fit way too closely since her daughter is a parent who left our child and never looked back.

“I just want to spend Christmas with my granddaughter. You can pick her up after we have our meal tomorrow or the day after. It’s one day of the year, Oliver. She lives with you twenty-four-seven. And you get to spend Noche Buena with her. Christmas Eve is the big night for us, anyway. I’m not asking for it. Just let us have Christmas together.” Her voice is pleading, and I hate that it’s tugging deep enough to make me consider it.

It’s Christmas. I shouldn’t have to share Ayla—not when Mrs. Morales’ daughter is the reason for all this. But Ayla loves her grandma, and she’s been a good grandmother despite everything. I don’t want to deprive my kid of more family during the holidays. It’s hard enough that it’s only the two of us.

And now, you’re going to deprive yourself of the only family you’ve got.

I wish for the chaos my friend Cam will have over at his house with his big family around him. But I say, “I’ll drop her off in the morning,” before I talk myself out of it.

“Thank you, Oliver,” Mrs. Morales says in a tone that echoes entitlement more than gratitude.

It should no longer bother me as much as it does. After all these years of having to deal with her one on one, her attitude shouldn’t be a sticking point. 

My phone rings again. This time, it is the alarm company at the new flip. “Hello?”

“Mr. Amador. We received a code that your electrical sensors have triggered the alarm system. We want to make sure everything is okay.”

Electrical alarm? Shit.

“This is a house we just finished renovating, and it’s staged for sale. We’ve been having some issues with some of the older sensors. I’m going to head there right now and double-check. Please send someone the day after tomorrow to replace the faulty sensors.”

I turn to go back inside the building when a blonde barrels out of the door, in a green velvet dress straight out of my dreams, and almost bowls me over.

She takes one look at me and freezes.

Like always, I am struck by everything about her. Her heart-shaped face, luscious mouth, and those eyes—an intense green like grass after the rain on the lomas near my native town. Luciana Blake is always a vision I get caught up on. My blood heats up. 

All afternoon—more like the past two years—I’ve been watching her from afar, memorizing all her expressions and types of smiles, like the one that blooms on her lips, replacing the haunted expression she walked out of the house with.

“Oliver.” The sound of my name on her lips is soft and breathy, bringing on a smile of my own.

“Hello, Luciana. How are you?”

The smile slips from her lips, and her head turns over her shoulder to look back inside the door. When our gazes meet again, she’s got that spooked look again.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes…” She shakes her head. “No…” And then sighs.

“Is the mob chasing you?”

She blinks and chuckles. “It’s worse than the mafia.”

“That bad. Ex-boyfriend?” I ask, hoping her douchey ex is not around.

“Way worse. My—” She shakes her head. “I need to get out of here. I’m going to call an Uber. Can you do me a favor?”

Anything you want.

I nod. “Yes.”

“Can you pretend you didn’t see me?”

How the hell can I do that when I can vividly remember every moment I’ve spent in her presence?

The first time I met her, at her brother’s house, her hand was soft and delicate in mine. Her flustered smile etched itself in my psyche. She had flowers in her hand and the sun shining behind her. Luciana’s light was brighter.  

“I don’t think I’m that good of a liar.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, the frown lines deepening on her forehead.

“I can’t pretend I didn’t see you, Luciana…” My eyes linger all over her face. “It would be impossible for anyone to do that.”

There’s a catch in her breath, and her lips curve again, tugging at something deep in my chest. I want to be closer to her. Like we were at Winter and Grayson’s wedding, when the world and everyone in it disappeared while we were standing by the champagne table. That day, I didn’t seize the opportunity, and I told myself if I had the chance again, I wouldn’t miss it.

“You don’t need to call an Uber. I can drop you off.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to make you leave the party.”

“I actually need to step away. I need to check on one of my renovations.”

“On Christmas Eve? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. One of the sensors triggered the system’s alarm, and the company just called.” I flash the phone in my hand.

“Sounds serious.” She peeks over her shoulder again.

“I think the alarm may be faulty, but I want to be sure. I can drop you off and go check.”

She shakes her finger. “Absolutely not. We need to go check your place first to make sure it’s not an emergency.”

I’m not going to waste this chance. “Let me tell Ayla I need to step away and see if Adri can keep an eye on her for me.”

The two quick calls take two minutes.

“Okay, let’s go.” I lead Luciana toward the parking area, where I catch a glimpse of my red work truck, and wince. She’s used to luxury cars with sleek leather interior. I have this worn-out SUV with an aux input.

But as I lead her to it, she acts like nothing is out of the ordinary. I open the door for her and come around to the driver’s seat.

“My car is not top of the line. I’m in the process of buying another one since I use this one so much for work.”

“First, you’re doing me a favor by driving me. Second, this is the cleanest car I’ve ever seen. Third…” She puts a hand over the vent. “She can hear you and will get her feelings hurt.”

I laugh. “How do you know it’s a she?”

Her eyebrow quirks. “Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“What’s her name?” she asks.

“Apple,” I answer.

Now it’s her turn to laugh. “Apple?”

I chuckle. “Ayla named her when she was five.”

She trails her fingers over the dashboard. “It does fit her. She looks like a red delicious.”

No, you look delicious. Instead, I say, “Right. So, I haven’t seen you for a while. How have you been? I mean, before the mafia started chasing you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been well, going back and forth between here and New York. My job is still there.”

“Cam mentioned that you want to move here permanently.”

She nods. “Yeah. My family is here now since he and Chase have settled in Baltimore.”

I put the car in drive. “Can you do your job fully from here?”

“Yup. I can do my job from anywhere, Oliver. I just need to make my space here more functional.”

I love the way she says my name, but I force myself not to dwell on it. “That’s cool. It would make the move easier.”

She shrugs. “In some ways.”

“Right. You have a boyfriend.” I say that even though I heard through our common circle of people that they’re not together anymore.

“No. That’s over.” Her voice is soft.

I put a hand over hers without thinking and then move it away. “Breakups are hard.”

Her head is down, looking at the hand I just touched. “Yeah, but necessary. I just hate that the whole world knows. Everyone gets to have an opinion about shit they know nothing about. But it’s over for good, and I’m not going backpedaling this time.”

“Good. You’ll find someone better,” I say.

And I mean it, because I’m better. I wouldn’t fumble the ball like her ex.

She looks from the road to me. “I think so too.”