Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(17)
It wasn’t necessarily something she kept secret. In recent years, her struggle with the disease had actually come up in a few interviews. The journalists had all been respectful. Each granted her request that the disorder not be the focus of an article about her business. She recognized the importance of sharing her story, how it might help others, so she didn’t shy away from the topic. And yet she wasn’t ready for the change that would inevitably occur if Luis knew. As it had with her family.
The pointed interest in what she ate. Or didn’t eat. The covert glances at her figure checking for noticeable weight loss. Cataloging her actions. The questions. The pity. The disappointment and guilt.
Luis would only be around for a week. Less if the situation nose-dived and they had to invent a reason for “Ric” to bug out early. More proof why Luis didn’t even need to know.
“We’ve covered quite a bit,” Luis said.
“I agree. The trick is in remembering it all.”
“Well”—holding his paper up at one corner, Luis waved it back and forth—“thanks to my handy dandy cheat sheet, I think I’ll be okay.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“Now who’s gloating?”
“You know I’m right, though,” she singsonged.
Luis responded with a mature eyeroll that had them both grinning.
Seated under the cabana’s shade, the humid ocean breeze keeping the May heat at bay, they quietly mulled over each other’s answers on their respective papers.
By now she’d discovered he was the second child of four kids, with only one sister born immediately after him. He didn’t admit it, but Sara sensed some kind of distance between Luis and his baby brother. When Enrique’s name came up, the light that brightened Luis’s mahogany eyes when he talked about his sister and older brother dulled. The smile that curved his lips, showing off his straight teeth, as he shared stories about his mami and papi, vanished.
And yet he hadn’t volunteered any reason why.
Apparently, she wasn’t the only one here keeping secrets.
Still, the way his face softened when he talked about his family—or familia, the word he often used—sent a pang of yearning through Sara’s chest. Nostalgia, bittersweet and strong, filled her. The Navarro home sounded a lot like Mamá Alicia’s, Sara’s favorite place to hang out when her parents were out of town or hung up at the hospital.
The comfortable, homey ambiance born of shoes and backpacks scattered by the front door. The delicious scent of bell peppers, garlic, and tomatoes simmering in a pot on the stove. Voices raised in laughter, disagreement, or praise, but always tinged with love. Familia and friends coming and going as if the kitchen had a revolving door. One that was always open, welcoming all.
So different from the stark perfection and sterility of the Vance house.
Behind her, a group of tourists riding mopeds puttered by, drawing Sara’s attention. Dressed in bathing suits and flip-flops, they were obviously more interested in catching rays than safety on the road. One driver called out to the others, motioning for them to turn onto the large fishing pier nearby. En masse, they made a right turn, moving out of her view.
When she swiveled back on her bench, she found Luis tracing a finger down his chicken scratch handwriting. His blunt fingertip stopped, as if he were committing something he’d written down to memory.
Wondering what had nabbed his interest, she leaned forward, the rough concrete digging into her elbows. He had already known she was a surprise baby for her parents. She’d dropped that info back at the airport, during her initial plea for help. But, like her, he’d made a point of keeping track of her family members’ names and occupations.
Only, while he had easily answered her questions about his siblings’ favorite fun-time activities—coaching his young sons’ baseball team for Carlos, working her personal trainer side hustle for Anamaría, and some kind of art for Enrique—she’d drawn a blank with her brother and sister. Jonathan and Robin were so much older. They’d already been off adulting and starting their medical careers by the time she reached adolescence. Sara had never really connected with them.
“Looks like we have a mission this week. If you’re up for it.” Luis arched a brow in a challenge. His finger tapped whatever piece of info on his sheet had stopped him moments ago.
“I’m listening.”
“By the time you board your plane to leave next Friday, let’s see if we can answer this question about Robin and Jonathan, your parents, too, with something more personal than reading medical journals or fundraising for some hospital-driven charity you can’t name. I mean, I know the title of your Mamá Alicia’s favorite telenovela, the pan dulce she always ordered from the panadería even after her doctor recommended she cut back on the sweet breads. And that she made sure you learned Spanish. Though no doubt your grasp of curse words came courtesy of her boys.”
“Yeah, she was not too happy about that discovery.” Sara pursed her lips, remembering Mamá Alicia’s threat to wash her mouth out with soap.
“The thing is, and correct me if I’m wrong.” Luis placed one hand over his heart, the other splayed out toward her. “I get the idea you’d like to know a little more about your brother and sister. So you don’t feel like such an outsider. Maybe this week, we can work on that for you, together. What do you say?”