Big Chicas Don't Cry(58)

“Oh, sorry. My phone died about an hour ago.”

“No need to apologize. Do you want me to get the basket from my car?”

“Sure. Just come up, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

He nodded and walked to the street. I went upstairs, unlocked my door, and collapsed on my couch.

I was taking off my shoes when Adrian came inside carrying a small basket wrapped in cellophane and topped with a bright-blue bow.

“She wanted to get you the deluxe one with caviar and stuff, but you know how broke and cheap reporters are,” he explained as he placed it on my coffee table.

I smiled. “That was nice of everyone.”

A shooting pain in my head made me wince.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I just have a killer headache. And I’m starving. But I have no food in my fridge.”

He pointed to the basket. “There’s stuff in there.”

I changed into sweats and a T-shirt and grabbed us two water bottles. Then we devoured a box of sesame crackers, three triangles of gourmet cheddar cheese, half a stick of summer sausage, and a bag of pretzels. Adrian was still working on a can of macadamia nuts as he recounted the stories everyone had worked on that day.

He was just in the middle of telling me how Tristan, our city council reporter, had gotten the mayor’s public information officer to hang up on him when another shot of pain hit. The food had helped my stomach, but not my head.

“Headache’s still there?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Come over here.” Adrian grabbed a nearby toss pillow and put it on his lap.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to rub your temples. It will help, I swear.”

“That’s okay. I can rub my own temples.”

“Erica. Stop talking and get over here.”

Pain gripped my head like a vise again. Food and drugs hadn’t relieved the pain, and Adrian was offering to help. I guess I didn’t need to make a big deal out of it.

I stretched out across my couch and laid my head on the pillow. He placed his fingers over my temples and started massaging. His touch was gentle, and the pain eased.

My eyes closed and my thoughts drifted back to Welita.

When I was younger, I’d get migraines and sometimes would have to call my abuelo to come pick me up from school in the middle of the day because my parents were at work. When I got to the house, Welita would pour me a glass of cold milk and make me lie down in the spare bedroom. She’d bring in a ziplock bag filled with ice cubes and place it on top of my head. If the pain was still too much, she’d lie down next to me and rub my head until I fell asleep.

I didn’t realize I was crying until Adrian wiped a tear from my cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be okay. She’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”

“I want to believe it. But you didn’t see her, Adrian. She was hooked up to these machines, and her face was nearly covered by an oxygen mask. I’ve never seen her look so frail.”

“Of course she’s frail now. Her body just went through a major trauma. That doesn’t mean that she can’t come back from it.”

“Maybe. I hope so. My entire family is a mess right now. Even my cousin Mari, whom I haven’t seen or spoken to in months, was there, and she looked devastated. I don’t even want to think about what will happen to us if . . .”

I couldn’t even say the words.

Adrian stopped rubbing and helped me to sit up. Then he grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “You have to believe that she’ll be okay. Because when you see her again, she has to believe it too.”

He was right. And even though I knew it, I still couldn’t stop the rush of tears.

Panic and old instincts shook me. Would Adrian think I was some hysterical baby just like Greg did? I tried to turn away when stifling my sobs with my hand wouldn’t work. I moved to get up, but Adrian wouldn’t let me go. Instead, he pulled me against his chest. I gave up and let him hold me while I cried.

A thousand minutes passed. Or maybe less. But during that time, I noticed a few things. He was wearing my favorite cologne of his—the one that smelled like the woods and lemon. He had loosened his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and kicked off his shoes. He was comfortable, almost like he was at home. I also noticed that even though his chest rose evenly, his heart was racing underneath.

And he was holding my hand. His grip warm, but strong.

The last thing I noticed was how all of it made me feel.

And then I couldn’t un-notice it.

Holy shit. I was falling in love with Adrian Mendes.





Chapter Thirty-One


SELENA


It was late when we finally left the hospital.

There was nothing more we could do at that point, and Welita needed her rest. A few of my relatives were going to stay through the night in case anything happened, but the rest of us were sent home.

Because of the hour and because of everything else, I decided to stay at my parents’ rather than make the drive back to Los Angeles.

Gracie and I shared her bed and talked until I heard soft snores in the dark. My body, however, couldn’t rest. Especially since my ears were on high alert, anticipating a phone call in the middle of the night that would summon all of us back to the hospital.