Big Chicas Don't Cry(99)

“How?”

“By becoming the pretty, perfect wife you could show off to your friends and clients. And in the process, I lost the real me.”

Esteban’s face turned red. He shook his finger at me. “You told me when we first got together that your biggest fear in the world was having to live like you did when you were younger. Everything I’ve done, Marisol, was to make you feel safe. To show you that I wasn’t your father, that you could trust me to always take care of you. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

His words killed me. Because they were true. “I thought that’s what I wanted too.”

“When did you change?” His question was an accusation.

I shrugged and noticed how heavy my shoulders were. “I don’t know. But I’ve been trying to tell you, Esteban. I’ve been trying to tell you that I need to be someone other than just your wife. I need something of my very own . . . and I don’t mean a baby.”

“But you said . . .”

“No. You said. You never asked me. You just assumed. You always assumed, or expected, that I wanted the same thing you did. Or, that you knew better.”

He flinched. “I’ve always asked for your opinion.”

“Yes, but then you ignore it if it’s not the same as yours.”

“That’s not fair,” Esteban replied.

“What about the fountain?”

“What about it? It’s the one you wanted . . . wasn’t it?”

The look on my face must have answered his question because his entire body sagged.

It was time to admit it all. It was now or never. “I told you when we first met that I always felt like I wasn’t good enough for my dad or smart enough to run my own business. You promised me you would never make me feel like that. Except . . . you did.”

The pain that washed over his face killed me a second time. “I did?”

A tear dropped onto my cheek as I sadly nodded.

“You have to know that I didn’t mean to ever make you feel that way.”

I nodded again.

He took a step closer. “Do you still love me?”

I didn’t hesitate. “I do. But sometimes I forget that I need to love me too.”

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

“I don’t know.” I covered my face in my hands and cried.

Arms encircled my shoulders, and Esteban pulled me against him. “Shh, don’t cry. Perdóname. Please, cari?o.”

He moved my hands and cradled my face with his. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that I didn’t see how unhappy you’ve been. Or maybe I did, but I just figured the more things I could give you, the better you would feel. But I was wrong. I know that now.”

Esteban pleaded with me with his eyes, and I could see the reflection of regret and sadness. And I hated that it was there because of me. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was that I make that disappear.

My hands came up and cradled his face like he was doing to mine. Then my lips covered his. I kept my eyes open to see his reaction. He did the same. We kissed again and again and again. Soon he was devouring my mouth, while his hands grabbed my ass and lifted me onto the counter.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he panted.

My tears continued to fall as he kissed my mouth, my neck, my chin. This was what I’d wanted. To be wanted by my husband. Not by Chris. Not by any other man ever. I still loved Esteban. Maybe I always would.

“Please,” I whispered as he rolled his hips against me. “Please. I need you inside me.”

With a groan, he pulled my shirt over my head and unbuckled my jeans. After I wiggled my legs free, he pulled his own pants off. Then he picked me up and carried me to the couch in the family room. I barely had time to take off my panties. Within seconds, he was naked and pulled me on top of him as he sat down on the couch. He reached around to unclasp my bra and quickly latched on to one breast.

“Now, Marisol,” he said with a grunt.

I moved until he was inside me, and we became one body, one heart all over again.

Shudders of relief racked my body as my orgasm washed over me. The heaviness I’d been feeling for months disappeared with each wave of pleasure.

Afterward, Esteban held me in his arms a little longer. Even then, I knew things would never be the same between us after this. I was different now. I wanted my life to be different too.

And I had no idea in that moment if that life would include him.





Chapter Sixty-Five


GRACIE


Closing my eyes, I took a breath and prepared myself to do battle.

I entered the Target store, and the craziness of shopping two days before Christmas hit me. There were no shopping carts, and the register lines stretched in every direction. But I couldn’t turn back now. So I grabbed a hand basket from a rack in the corner and walked the crowded aisles in search of slippers for my abuela and a specific brand of makeup brushes for Rachel.

A half hour later, I’d found my items and also picked up another roll of tape and gift tags. Then I remembered I had also wanted to get a book for Erica. But as I made my way over to that area, I passed the baby department. Was it my imagination, or did it actually smell different than the rest of the store?

Before I knew it, I was looking at pajama sets, crib sheets, and the tiniest pairs of sneakers I’d ever seen. I hadn’t bought anything for the baby except for the book that Sister Catherine had seen. Part of it was that I really hadn’t had the time.