“That’s amazing, Ricky,” I said, swelling with pride.
“It’s crazy, is what it is,” he said. He interlaced our fingers together. “You make me crazy.”
I looked up at him. All the lightness from before, his shy smile. It was gone. Now he was looking at me intensely, like he was taking me apart piece by piece and reassembling me in his mind. I remembered, in the beginning, how I used to hide from that stare. Now, I stared back.
“I still can’t believe you came back,” he said. “I can’t believe we’re here right now. I can’t believe that an hour ago . . .” He let out a huff of incredulous laughter, and I watched his face solemnly. “My dad just died, and I’m sitting here, with you.”
I ducked my head, suddenly guilty. Show her, Abuela had said, throwing her grandson out of the room. Instead of getting the chance to say a final goodbye, he was here, with me.
“And despite that, I’m . . . happy,” Ricky finished. “Isn’t that wild?”
I looked up at Ricky in astonishment, watching as his face broke out into a smile, a real one, the kind that crinkled his eyes and brought out his dimples. I didn’t know I could feel happiness like this. So bright, so intense, that I thought it would rend me in two. I closed my eyes, focusing on this moment. His hand in mine, the tendons flexing as he gathered me closer. The tittering of birds hiding in the still-green bushes. The strange medley of smells, of chlorophyll and milled dirt, corn tortillas from the taqueria next door, waffle cones from the ice cream parlor across the street, the light musky scent of his cologne. I knew I was trembling, and that he could feel it.
“I’m happy too,” I said after a moment. Then, because he’d said it first the last time, I added, “Nothing’s changed for me, you know. I still love you.”
And it was easier to say this time because there was no longer any reason to hold back.
“I know,” Ricky said.
I nudged him in the side, pouting.
“Okay, Han Solo.”
A steady hand on my chin guided my face back to his.
“What, was my grand romantic gesture not enough?” he said. “I know. You came and found me, right? Even though you knew you might not be welcome?” He grabbed my other hand, sandwiched it between his. “I’m never going to forget that, Angie. I’m going to wake up every day for the rest of my life and look at your face and remember that, when I needed you most, you were there for me. For my family.”
Every day, I choose, his grandfather had said. My heart picked up speed, and I searched his face for any sign that he was joking. I couldn’t find it. Ricky was all firmly set jaw and earnest eyes and when he brought our folded hands to his chest, I could feel that his heart was racing too.
“You know Abuela is already calling you her granddaughter?” Ricky continued.
Oh, Abuela. Not that I was surprised. Ricky had clearly inherited his ain’t-shitness from somewhere.
“She is?” I said, snickering.
Ricky nodded, his smile turning impish.
“Oh yeah. She gives me the look every time too. Like, Get on with it, mijo,” he said. He winked. “I told her that I was working on it.”
I gaped at him even as he grinned back, clearly proud of himself.
“You’re working on it,” I repeated, my gaze flicking from his smiling eyes to the bit of lip that he’d just wet with his tongue.
“Of course,” he said, dropping my hands to scoot closer to me on the bench. “We have to get through a few steps, though, first. Just to make it proper.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, snaking my arms around his neck.
“For starters”—his nose skimmed over mine, his breath wafting warm over my lips—“we should probably try out the whole ‘being my girlfriend’ thing again.”
“Interesting proposition,” I said. “I accept.”
Ricky’s laugh was more of a rumble, reverberating deep in his chest and into mine. And then he was kissing me, so sweetly it made my heart ache, and I was kissing him back. Dizzy with elation, I pressed myself into his chest and squeaked as he hoisted me up and onto his lap. I splayed my fingers over his shoulders, buried them in his hair. He was real, and all mine, and maybe everything that had transpired had just brought us to this place. I imagined drinking him up like this every day, and for once I didn’t feel guilty letting that image blossom into something more in my head. Because I knew he was even crazier than me. Thinking about the rest of his life, and whatnot. Definitely planning our wedding in his head. We finally broke away, my braids shrouding us in a quiet, private place.