handing me another, smaller box.
We’ve been sitting around the tree for the last hour opening presents. The family really likes to give lots of little gifts, and there are a lot of us, so we’ve been taking turns. Except Alejo seems to want me to open all of mine at once.
Thinking that the box of forks and spoons was a silly, fun kind of gift, I open the next one expecting something to show Alejo’s deeply romantic side.
It’s nice. Expensive, anyway. A bottle of Tom Ford perfume, Soleil Neige.
“Oh, muy bien,” Yaya says as she slips on a giant sweater Maya had knitted for her.
“Soleil Neige,” Alejo says, gesturing to the box. “Winter sun. Because you’re like the sun in winter.”
“You mean bright but cold?” I joke, and everyone laughs.
I thank Alejo for his gift. I mean, really, it’s a nice gesture, and whenever I wear it I’ll think of him. I can’t help but think maybe he’d be a little more sentimental but then again, he’s twenty-four, he’s doing his best, and I didn’t do much better with what I got him.
“I love it,” I tell him, spritzing some on my wrist. It actually smells divine, a scent you want to wrap yourself in.
Then it’s time for my gift to Alejo.
He was damn hard to shop for. I mean, what do you get a man who has absolutely everything and all the money he could ever need?
I hand him the package and he tears into it.
“Oh, Dios mío,” he exclaims as he stares at it.
I took a picture of everyone at his surprise birthday party, with him in the middle, then had it blown up, printed, and framed.
“Look at everyone,” he says, laughing. “Ah, we look so drunk. That was such a good party.” He looks at me with heart-melting eyes. “But you’re not in this picture.”
I shrug. “That’s okay.” As long as I’m with you anyway. “You can photoshop me in.”
He seems to think that over, probably getting some naughty ideas.
When everyone is finally done with their presents and we’ve cleaned up the best we can, there’s a bit of time before I’m needed in the kitchen. Alejo comes over to me and grabs my hand.
“Come for a walk with me,” he says.
We put on our sandals and head outside. He takes me around the house to the back of the property where there’s a path winding through rosemary and sage, skirting alongside the crashing waves.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“There’s a private beach,” he says. “Or as private as it gets. Can’t get there by road so we like to claim it as ours.”
“Classic Albarado move,” I comment.
He shoots me a smile. “You’re damn right.”
The beaches in Tenerife aren’t the white sand beaches people are used to, but more of a dark brown thanks to the volcanic activity. It doesn’t make them any less beautiful and it doesn’t make the water any less clear. Here, the azure waves crash against the beach, making a beautiful contrast against the blue sky, the kind of waning, soft blue you get in the wintertime.
“This is gorgeous,” I tell him as he helps me climb down the rocks and onto the sand. From where we are, there is only dark volcanic soil and green shrubs. There are no houses, just the faint peak of a volcano far in the distance.
“Sí,” he says, sitting down on the sand and looking out at the waves. “My aunt and uncle used to live in the next town over, in this tiny little house. I wanted to buy them this one so they could have this beach to launch his fishing boats from. But of course Luis then insisted that he still make his own boat launch, right up to the house. You can’t keep that man away from the water.”
I sit down next to him, trying not to get sand under my dress. I didn’t know we’d be having Christmas here, so this plain black sundress was the dressiest thing I packed.
“Listen,” he says, twisting to face me. “I have something here for you, and it means a lot to me. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of my family because it’s personal, and really, it’s just between you and me.”
Now I’m intrigued. “Okay. What is it?”
He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small velvet pouch. He unties the string and then lifts out a small, shiny silver locket on a necklace, placing it in my outstretched palm.
“I