A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,86

still belong to another place. I can’t even think of being with you in Miami for years. Not with Mum and Flora—”

“I know.” I’ve always known.

“So much is goodbye and fleeting in my life. I’m losing people and I’m so tired of that feeling. And you…” The single word reflects in his eyes. “You couldn’t be just some quick fling. See, I can’t do that—weeks of summer shags—with an end date in my head. I can’t and then put you on a plane, and only get to keep the memory of it. Of you.”

My breathing staggers, understanding and knowing he’s right. Hating his rightness. Loving him being all about me in this terrible-beautiful way. “We can’t do this again, can we?”

Eyes glassy, he shakes his head. “It’s just too bloody hard. For now, let our time here be our moment.”

The moment we cheated worlds and lives and universes for.

They still win. Por ahora.

For now.

30

On the night of my eighteenth birthday, I’m told to wear my nicest dress and stay in my room until someone comes for me. I do have a new dress, a short wispy number Victoria at Come Around Again said was perfection a couple weeks ago. The price was also perfect, and so is the fit. Black floral chiffon skims just off my body and rises to a square neckline framed with thin straps.

I add finishing touches to my look while starting my packing. Two days left, but I’m focused on finding all the celebration I can, not fumbling over what, and who, I have to leave. To get myself through, I had to take a perfect, cheated moment with Orion in a twilight thicket, locking it in a treasure box inside of me. For now.

But Orion was not without other treasures and gifts. Earlier, I got more London for my birthday, this time, the inside parts. I spent all day ogling the crown jewels and dragging him through every floor of Fortnum and Mason’s food hall and department store, fawning over gourmet ingredients and picking souvenirs for Mami and Pilar. But my real surprise was Orion treating me to a splurge-worthy tea in Fortnum’s Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon. We ate through the afternoon, surrounded by white tablecloths and robin’s-egg-blue china. We drank their signature Royal Blend and stuffed ourselves with finger sandwiches, scones, and fancy cakes.

Then we took an early train back, leaving plenty of night in Winchester. But for what? I’m fastening the last buckle on my gold sandals when knocking sounds.

My someone?

“Oh,” I say into the open doorway, then, “Oh!” Orion’s showered and changed into a slim black suit, complete with a silvery blue dress shirt and matching tie. Tan guapo—gorgeous—and everything dapper.

He steps in, leaning to kiss my cheek. Even though we’ve been back to PG for the last week since St. Catherine’s Hill, no one’s bothered to tell our eyes. Am I staring like a fool?

His are large and ocean-deep enough to draw me in for drowning, his own siren song. This black-suited boy hugs me again. “You look beautiful,” he says into my ear, my nose full of bar soap and wood-spiced cologne, the tang of styling gel.

My hands press down the smooth lapels of his blazer. “You clean up well, Maxwell. But you’re a walking superstitious danger to yourself going out with wet hair.” I gently ease my fingers over his washed and styled locks.

“Danger and recklessness and tons of alcohol are typical for a school dance night around here.” He arches a brow.

“A what?”

He slides his other hand from behind his back and my heart jumps. He presents a clear domed box with a pink rose wrist corsage.

“Is that…?”

“It is. We wanted to do something special for your birthday-slash-going-away party. Flora had a brilliant idea and you’ll soon see what some elves have been up to while we were in London.” He opens the box and sets it on my writing desk. “English roses for a Cuban girl. Come to prom with me?”

I nod rapidly as he slides the corsage onto my wrist, then I throw my arms around him. “Thank you. I spent ten minutes on this smoky eye, and I’m about to turn into a raccoon.”

He pulls me closer, laughing. “No forest creatures. Just us heathens tonight. And I’ll warn you, I’m an even worse dancer than cook, but we’re going to dance anyway.”

“Before we do, maybe you can explain these?” I reach toward the desk for the ribbon-tied set of teakwood mixing spoons I found on