A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow - Laura Taylor Namey Page 0,96
“Dad was about to drown me in the Itchen. Said I was acting like a quote, ‘miserable git.’ I told him everything and that I needed to come here. Needed to say some things I should’ve said. But he decided it’s been too long since we’ve taken a real family holiday. Just like that, my uncle came down to mind the shop and we landed today. Flora’s already slathered in SPF 50 sun cream at the hotel pool, dying to see you.”
I jerk backward, “Oh, she came too?” I cup his face then reach up onto my toes to kiss him again.
He moves into one of the café chairs and pulls me down into my favorite sitting spot—his lap. “Back in England, I didn’t want to be ‘that guy.’ I couldn’t ask you to leave your family, your business, your country, just for me.” He rubs my shoulder. “So I wanted you to choose a future that’s first and foremost yours alone. Not to belong to me. I want you to belong with me. That’s the part I didn’t say enough.”
I lose my breath, then sputter across the next one.
“I still don’t know how we can work it out with you here and me there right now, but I’m not giving up.” His voice shakes. “I was wrong, too. Sometimes we have to want more than we’re given. So, this is me, wishing for someone as impossible and otherworldly as you.”
He ducks, but I don’t let him get far. My hands force his gaze. “You were an award-winning tour guide, but you missed one thing.”
He cocks his head on a resigned smile. “What’s that?”
“Your constellation. So to fix that, I’m gonna need to see Orion’s Belt on St. Giles Hill, with you. And it will be winter, so I’ll be wearing your cardigan under the biggest, puffiest coat I’ve ever owned. And we’ll probably stay out way too late. And the next morning, I’ll be yawning the entire train ride to London.” I make sure he sees me say the next words. “To school. For my future. My choice.”
He sucks in a breath of disbelief but I nod my secret into him. “You’re doing it? The winter term at Le Cordon Bleu?”
“For a start. I submitted my application and applied for a student visa this morning. Before you came, I was trying to think of some cool way to tell you over FaceTime later. But this is a thousand times better.” I grin, clasping my hands behind his neck. “I’m not going back to England just for the pastry program, though. See, no other girl gets to make you Cuban sandwiches and lemon biscuits and ride Millie and run with you. No one but me.”
He takes a moment, lets us both write my words into memory. Then he kisses me starstruck.
“Come see La Paloma and meet my family.” I jump up and pull him with me. “Prepare yourself for three Cubans to faint, or at least pretend-swoon with extra drama.”
He follows me into the vast kitchen. “About that, your family might already know I’m here.” When my eyes spring wide, he adds, “I’ve, um, been talking to Pilar. She helped me pull off my little surprise. Made sure you were here and all. And apparently, there’s some huge supper being planned for my family after the taping is over. At your uncle’s house with all your relatives?”
My family and his family—my heart smiles. “Warning, don’t eat for two days.”
He laughs, and after he cleans up in the staff bathroom, I show him around the place that grew me. Equipment and old photos and some of the prepped pastries and cakes we’ll display on TV. The spot where I kneaded my first loaf of bread.
Orion arcs his hand, sobering. “All of this. Can you… really?”
Yo puedo. “I can and I’m ready. Not gonna lie, it’s going to hurt.” My eyes well again. “Some days more than others and at weird times with no warning. I’ll need tea and extra hugs then.”
He loops his arms around me. “I’m told I’m the best at those.”
From the back, Pilar yells, “Lila! Are you done snogging off Orion’s face yet?”
“No?!”
They come out anyway. In ten minutes, Mami falls in love. Pilar and Orion settle into an easy banter about music and the London scene she’s dying to take in; I catch her blooming pink at his accent and natural charm.
But we all hush when Papi leaves then returns with two glasses of Coke, lime wedges