about what I can make out of what we have in the fridge," she told me, shrugging.
"What are you making?"
"Arepa. Well, sort of. We don't have corn flour."
"What is Arepa?" I asked, watching as she chopped up an avocado.
"It's sort of like a pita sandwich, I guess. Everyone makes it different. But you can have beans, cheese, rice, pork, eggs, and veggies in it. The sky is the limit. The cooks in the family get creative with what they have leftover."
"And what kind are we having?"
"Well, we had the avocado, of course. And that shredded cheese. And there was that leftover chicken I took off that sandwich we ordered for lunch yesterday. And lettuce. And a little tomato. The pita is just a normal pita that someone had thrown in your freezer."
"I don't even know who would have done that," I admitted. "I don't think I've ever seen my aunt cook with pita bread before."
"It's a mystery. Maybe your cleaning lady brought some and then forgot to bring it home?" she asked, knowing about her because we'd discussed her a few nights ago over dinner. Mostly, I think, because it was a job that her mother had done, and she wanted to make sure I was paying Tina fairly and treating her right.
"That's possible. Tina leaves her lunch here all the time. I can see that happening."
"We will have to replace it and tell her it is in there then," she decided, taking a second to write it down on the grocery list we had been keeping on the counter when new ideas popped up.
I decided I liked her eagerness to use the word "we" a lot more than I could have realized.
We would do this.
And we would do that.
I didn't want to get my hopes up for a future, but there was no denying that the desire for it was there, just waiting for me to acknowledge it.
"What?" she asked, looking up, brows drawing together.
"I, ah, I figured you would be a wreck when I came back."
"Is that what took you so long?" she teased. "I was. For a while. But I decided to settle on hope. I'm not going to imagine Celenia being hurt and scared and alone until I know for sure she is not in that next container. I just needed a couple minutes to figure that out myself. I did that."
Some of my words came back to me as I watched her. Ones about how I needed a woman who could handle this lifestyle, who would be strong enough for it.
No one could look at this woman and see anything other than strength. To be able to keep her head in an impossible situation. To do her own legwork. To chase down her own leads. To be willing to take on the mafia in the process. To be able to take bad news on the chin and keep fighting.
That was a strong fucking woman.
The kind who would be able to handle my life, this lifestyle.
Possibly the only woman I had ever come across who could.
How the fuck was I ever going to let her go?
Unless, possibly, I could convince her to stay. After all this was done. Once her sister was safe. Maybe she would need to take her back to Venezuela for a while. Or, maybe, Celenia could stay with us while she recovered. Maybe she could go to the local women's shelter for the outpatient therapy they offered.
Maybe she could stay.
Maybe she could be mine.
In a permanent kind of way.
"Is everything okay over there? Is everyone okay?" she asked, mixing all her ingredients together in a bowl.
"Yes. I mean, I'm sure the women and girls are traumatized, but they are in the hands of people who will hopefully get them the care they need."
"Girls?" she asked, face sinking. "How young?"
"The youngest looked about thirteen maybe."
To that, she let out a string of sounds in what seemed like both Spanish and Mandarin that sounded a hell of a lot like curses.
"Yeah," I agreed when she was done. "That about covers it," I agreed. "Only the worst scum of the earth traffick people in general. Let alone children. There is no punishment in our system harsh enough for those bastards."
"If you catch them before the police do—" she said, trailing off, knowing I didn't like to talk specifics anywhere that wasn't an open space. Things got bugged way too easily these days. Even a good sweeper could miss a few. It was just safer to