A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,89

baking like you showed me,” Flora says.

I toy with my rose corsage. The only centerpiece I want to take home. “Your family will love that.” I meet her eyes. She did a worthy job with gray shadow. “Even though I have to go back, you can FaceTime or call or text, anytime.” I shrug. “If you have cooking questions or just want to talk. That’s how I’ve been staying close to my sister.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She shifts to watch her brother for a few beats. “I’ll make sure he eats right. When you’re in Miami. I mean, you can yell at him over the line about his cheese toasties, but I can do more.”

Oh, my heart. “You can take care of each other. And your dad, too.”

A smile lands then lifts off her face, winged. “But I’ll still miss us baking bread and dunking it into that really good coffee you make.”

I have to close my eyes, throat burning. Hazlo—so clear what I have to do. So right. I remove my golden necklace, slide the precious dove charm off. I secure the bird to one of the corsage ribbons and drop the delicate chain into Flora’s palm. “For you.”

She lifts her hand, letting the links fall. “I can’t. Your grandmother gave it to you.”

“For me, it’s more about the charm. I can get another gold chain at home.”

Flora smiles. “Thank you, Lila.” She lets me fasten the clasp around her neck.

“Add your own special charm when you find it. But wear this and know someone is always thinking of you.” Not forgotten. Remembered.

* * *

Later, only two remain in the parlor and one wears pink flowers. The other’s clutching the door frame for support after shooing out his last friend. I’m quick with my elbow hooked into his. “You. Couch. Now.”

Orion utters a British noise of assent, teetering on my arm. “Beautiful. You were. Beautiful dancer.”

I ease him onto one of the sofas. Help him out of his jacket.

“Mmm, that’s nice.”

I sit next to him and he’s quick to lean against me. Even his skin reeks of ale and a bar cabinet of hard liquor. “You had quite the prom, didn’t you?” I loosen his tie, pull it out from under his collar.

A low, breathy laugh before he slumps and drops his head into my lap.

“Oh. Okay, then. Hi.” Wonderland or fairyland or dreamland, he’s got a ticket to any one of them.

His eyes drift shut, his lips pulling into a smile then snapping back, and I get my introduction to the sleepy-drunk Orion his friends laughed over.

“We didn’t,” he mumbles, “do everything. So much more.”

“So much.” I bite my cheek and caress his.

He leans into my hand. “I like bookstores.”

My watery smile. “Me too.”

“Better. Don’t have to. Give them back. Can dog-ear their pages and write in. Margins. Mess them up.”

My stomach heats. I push a stray curl off his forehead.

“Better than. Library books. Can only borrow.”

In the dim light, I borrow time and read his face. His strong jaw and knife-edged nose. I touch the little cleft at his chin, peering into the space as if it leads to forever. He snores faintly now, out cold. His eyelids tremble.

In the dim light, my forbidden truth writes across my mind. I dress up as myself, the Lila Reyes who sometimes doesn’t listen to people or reason. Doesn’t protect a damn thing like she should. Sometimes she runs too far and reacts too quickly and hurts herself and her sister when she’s hurting.

In the dim light, I am still her. Just another flavor of the girl who came here weeks ago. She’ll go home the same and different.

Sí, claro, I do these forbidden things. I’m reckless with words this time. I swirl them around my mouth and bounce them off my heart. I whisper them in English. I say them in Spanish. I put them into hands that feed cities and will hold Orion until dawn. “Te amo.”

31

Two suitcases wait in Spencer’s Range Rover after I’ve said goodbye to everyone but Orion. Down to minutes, we spend them on the church courtyard bench.

I yawn richly, headachy and bleary-eyed, wearing my dove charm on a silver chain I bought in town.

“The lady said she wanted to stay up all night and she did.” He nudges me.

“So did you. At least I can sleep on the plane.” To Miami. Home.

I was careful about my last day. I didn’t want anything new. No new places or memories. I wanted hours of my