Brown-Eyed Girl

Alameda Cantera was at the threshold, looking the same as always, her eyes stony and her mouth set with the bitterness of someone who had been defrauded by life. Alameda was an attractive woman, her figure small and trim in a suit jacket and hot-pink blouse and trouser jeans. The wealth of jet-black hair was pulled tightly back from her face and pinned into a controlled bun at her nape. It was an unfortunate style for someone whose hard features could have used some softening around the edges. But when Alameda had been young, before Eli had soured her, she must have been beautiful.

She had brought someone with her, a young man still in his twenties. He was black-haired, a bit heavyset, his short but muscular frame clad in pressed khakis and a crisp button-down shirt. Although he was handsome, his expression conveyed an impression of smug, sly machismo that I instinctively disliked.

“Avery,” Sofia said, “this is Luis Orizaga.”

Holy shit, I thought.

Even knowing Alameda, I couldn’t believe she had brought her daughter’s ex-boyfriend here, uninvited and very unwelcome. Although Luis had never been physically abusive, he had dominated Sofia in every other way, determined to extinguish every spark of independence.

Apparently, it had never occurred to Luis that Sofia might not have been happy in the relationship. It had been a shock to him when she had ended their engagement and moved to Houston to start a business with me. Luis had gone into a monthlong rage that had involved heavy drinking, multiple bar fights, and broken furniture. Less than a year later, he’d married a seventeen-year-old girl. They’d had a child, Alameda had informed Sofia peevishly, and had gone on to say that it should have been her grandchild, and Sofia should be having babies.

“Why are you here?” Sofia asked Luis. She sounded so young and vulnerable that I was tempted to push her behind me and snap at the pair in the doorway to leave her alone.

“I invited Luis to come with me,” Alameda replied, aggressively cheerful, her eyes birdlike. “It’s lonely to drive all that way by myself, which I have to do since you never come to visit me, Sofia. I told Luis that he never left your heart – that’s why you’ve stayed single.”

“But you’re married,” Sofia said, giving Luis a bewildered glance.

“We’re divorced now,” he said. “I gave my wife too much. I was too good to her. All that spoiling made her want to leave me.”

“Of course it did,” I couldn’t resist saying acidly.

My comment was roundly ignored.

“I have a son named Bernardo —” Luis told Sofia.

“The most beautiful child,” Alameda chimed in.

“He’s almost two years old,” Luis continued. “I have him every other weekend. I need help to raise him.”

“You are the luckiest girl in the world, mija,” Alameda said to Sofia. “Luis has decided to give you another chance.”

I turned to Sofia. “You’ve hit the jackpot,” I said dryly.

She was too shaken to smile. “You should have asked me first, Luis,” she said. “I told you when I left Houston that I didn’t want to see you again.”

“Alameda explained everything,” he replied. “Your sister talked you into moving away when you were grieving your father’s death. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Sofia made a shushing motion without even looking at me. “Luis,” she said, “you know why I left. I’ll never go back to you.”

“Things are different. I’ve changed, Sofia. I know how to make you happy now.”

“She’s already happy,” I burst out.

Alameda gave me a dismissive glance. “Avery, this does not concern you. It’s a family matter.”

“Don’t be rude to Avery,” Sofia said, flushing angrily. “She is my family.”

A rapid volley of Spanish ensued, all three of them speaking at once. I couldn’t follow more than a few words. In the background, Ree-Ann, Val, and Tank waited with their bags and laptops.

“Need help?” Tank asked meaningfully.

Grateful for his presence, I murmured, “Not sure yet.”

Sofia looked increasingly distressed as she tried to defend herself. I inched closer, longing to intervene on her behalf. “Could we do this in English, please?” I asked crisply. No one appeared to have heard. “The fact is,” I tried again, “Sofia has a great life here. A successful career. She’s an independent woman.” When none of that had any discernible effect, I added, “She has a new man.”

To my satisfaction, an abrupt silence descended.

“That’s right,” Sofia said, seizing on the excuse. “I have a man, and we’re engaged.”

Alameda’s eyes narrowed into spider-lashed slits. “You never said anything about him before. Who is he? What is his name?”

Sofia’s lips parted. “He’s —”

“Excuse me,” Steven said, shouldering his way back into the studio through the half-open door. He paused with a quizzical frown, glancing at our blank faces in the fraught silence. “What’s going on?”

“Querido,” Sofia exclaimed, and flung herself at him.

Before Steven could react, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tugged his head down, and pressed her mouth against his.

Fifteen

Taken by surprise, Steven froze as Sofia kissed him. I held my breath, silently willing him not to shove her away. His hands, suspended in the air as if by marionette strings, descended by slow degrees to her shoulders. Take pity on her, Steven, I thought desperately. Just this once.