A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,62

it’s a rainy Sunday morning and Orion finds me easily. It’s my day off, but I need the kitchen after last night’s new anxiety trifecta:

Orion and our un-plan

Flora’s the vandal

Andrés and a three-minute phone call

I return his greeting, ogling a few treats from Mami’s second care package—she doesn’t know how timely it was. These small items, I need them. Yesterday before the pub, I got the brown shipping box that smelled of my West Dade house when I opened the flaps.

Orion shrugs out of a damp windbreaker and I’m all opposites. The sight of him in jeans and an untucked blue polo makes my body settle, drawing near to him like it’s homeward. But seeing him in the aftermath of Flora and Andrés ties my stomach into complicated knots. Impossibly, both are true.

“Ahh, more gifts from your mum?” Orion says and rubs my shoulder.

I show him the stack of guava paste containers and the plastic bag filled with three miniature tins of golden yellow Bijol seasoning. I dance the bag in the air. “Consider me way too excited about spices. Now I can make you arroz con pollo.”

“Well, I’ve got this one sorted: chicken and rice.” His brows drop. “That sounds rather simple, though.”

“After one bite, if you think my arroz con pollo is anything resembling simple chicken and rice, I will hang up my apron before your next mouthful.”

“Nah.” He’s a blink away. “Pointless of me to even doubt you. A lesson I should’ve learned earlier.”

A flash of smile before I feel it fade. Orion does have reasons to doubt me, though. It rumbles now, even more with him beside me.

I show him the last Cuban coffee treasure—a can of Café Bustelo. “You probably had enough caffeine over breakfast.”

“Brew away. If I’m a wired fool later I can blame you and that’s always fun.”

I move to swat him, but he’s quicker. ¡Basta! The new trifecta has me limp and slow. Orion snatches my hand and squeezes. “Speaking of brekkie, Flora joined Dad and me this morning at the café. She usually doesn’t. I’m a bit surprised by this new development too. Sacrificing her precious sleep, popping in here to help and learn a few things?” His mouth pulls sideways and his gaze hones quizzically onto mine. I can’t help but sense there’s more than curiosity behind his raised brows.

What aren’t you telling me, Lila?

I don’t want to lie to this boy. “Sorry I didn’t text. I bumped into her super late.” Tagging a wall. Begging my silence.

“She said she was on her way home from Katy’s and you were running.” He wrinkles his nose. “Alone. You know, I could’ve gone with you. Not that you need an escort.”

So much information. First, I realize what Flora’s alibi for sneaking out has been all along. Then there’s the part that makes me look directly into Orion’s face, staring at a sweet sun. Staring at a precarious black hole. Both are true. I couldn’t run with you. I was running because of you.

I need to put my hands on anything but Orion. Easing away, I jiggle the coffee can. “We, um, decided on three mornings a week.” I pull out the metal stove-top espresso pot I use for coffee-infused pastry fillings. “I thought it was a good idea. I can show her around the kitchen. That’s always cool, right? Basic skills?” I measure coffee then set the flame high.

“Err, right. But I think there’s an ulterior motive behind her shadowing you.”

I suck in an anxious breath, whipping around to face him. “What? I mean, how did she bring it up?” How did she spin it?

“Like you said. She’s off for holiday and you make such delicious things for us. She figured it’s time she learned a couple useful tricks. While you’re… here.”

Barely voiced, the word sounds miles away.

He adds, “I suspect there’s more to it, like she’s trying to find ways to prove herself. All her sneaking around with Will. And remember the other night when Gordon brought her home past curfew? I think she’s trying to show she’s taking initiative. Gaining focus and trustworthiness.”

Blessedly, it’s not much longer before the coffee’s ready. I rummage for two demitasse cups and a small glass pitcher. Like Orion’s tea preparation, I demo the steps for perfect café Cubano. “We make an espuma, or crema, by whisking a bit of the coffee with sugar.”

He grins. “Always the sugar with you.”

“But never too much,” I muse to the work between my hands. I pour the rest