How Much I Feel - Marie Force Page 0,102

through the pits of despair, seeing her happy again mellows a guy.

“She drives a very hard bargain.”

“That’s my girl,” Vincent said, glowing with paternal pride.

I love him and Viv, as well as Nona and Abuela, as if they’re my own family. Vincent has been giving me bartending lessons so I can “make myself useful” around the place. It’s nice to have a father again after so many years mostly estranged from my own.

I hear from Terri, my former colleague in New York, that Howard and Ginger are “working on their marriage.” I give the guy credit. He’s far more forgiving than I would’ve been in his position, but I’m not one to judge. Besides, I’ve got far bigger things to think about today than people who no longer matter to me. I’ve got so many new people in my life I can hardly keep them all straight. But I do make the effort, which Carmen appreciates.

I’ve asked the entire family to come to brunch today, even the cousins who live in New York. I think they know why I asked, but the one person who hasn’t got the faintest clue is my beloved. Carmen thinks they’re all here on a routine visit. She even organized an outing with her cousins last night to the iconic Ball & Chain nightclub on Calle Ocho and actually made it to midnight before telling me I had twenty minutes to get her to bed before she fell over.

My girl can’t hang late at night, which is fine with me. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than in bed with her.

Today I’m wearing one of the four-pocket guayabera shirts she bought me for Christmas, but she’s had no luck convincing me to try Cuban cigars. You can take the doctor out of New York, but he’s still a doctor and a nonsmoker. My Spanish has gotten much better and my comprehension improves with every month I spend living in Miami. The more I hear, the more I understand, and Carmen enjoys teaching me.

My mom and brother are in town, too, but I wisely keep them hidden until it’s showtime. Carmen met them when we went home to Wisconsin for an after-Christmas visit last winter, and just as I predicted, my mom adores her—and vice versa. Having them here would be a dead giveaway that something’s up, and I want Carmen to be completely surprised.

I’m quite sure she’s actually forgotten that Tuesday is our one-year meet-iversary, but I’m used to her forgetting. I’m the one who’s reminded her the other eleven months. My plan is actually contingent on her not remembering.

I also invited Mateo and his mother, Sofia, who now works as a waitress at Giordino’s, to join us for brunch. Carmen’s family has fully embraced the single mother and her son, who’s doing so much better. In consultation with his oncological team, I keep a close eye on him with regular exams and scans. So far, so good.

It’s Nona’s turn to host, and she’s gone all out with the eggplant parm I’m addicted to, along with Carmen’s favorite, chicken marsala, as well as a massive antipasto that everyone attacks before we’re seated for the main courses.

Somehow, I manage to actually eat, but only so Carmen won’t be suspicious. I’ve become well known around here for my ravenous appetite. I think that’s the thing her grandmothers love best about me, that I’m always hungry for whatever they’re dishing up. I’ve become a complete snob when it comes to Cuban and Italian food. Nothing ever measures up to Giordino’s.

I spend more time than ever at the gym to offset the uptick in delicious food I’m consuming these days at the restaurant and at home. Carmen is an amazing cook, and long before she officially moved in, she said my kitchen inspired her, which is fine with me.

She loves to cook. I love to eat. Win-win.

I look over at her, talking in her animated way with her cousin Dee. I first met Dee when we went up to New York for a long weekend in the spring so I could officially move out of my apartment there. We also had dinner with many of my former colleagues, who wanted to meet the woman who’d lured me to Miami.

She told them I was easily led, which is true. I had a choice between being happy with her or miserable without her. In the end, it was a no-brainer.

I’m so glad Miami-Dade came through with privileges, because commuting to Fort Lauderdale