Nathan

The little lights were there, in her big brown eyes. I felt them, if that was possible, dancing and laughing and jumping around. It must've been the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen: her, smiling so brightly, her curls a mess, flying everywhere because she moved all the time. She was laughing at Luis, head thrown back, letting go in that way only she seemed to be able to. I just stared at her, taking it all in, trying to process it all.

That she wanted to be with me.

That one day, she would be my wife.

How the hell did I get this lucky?

She let out a last giggle, and I had to pull her close again, wrapping my arms around her waist, burying my face in her hair. Damn, that tempting scent of hers... It made me somewhat light-headed, or maybe it was the kiss she left on my cheek, or maybe her body against mine. Strange, how on the flight to JFK I could only focus on my mission, repeating the words I had to say over and over again in my mind until I was exhausted, and now, I could probably stay awake for a week without a problem.

I did it.

I said everything I'd wanted to say ever since she returned, and she felt the same.

Could it be that easy?

She wiggled out of my embrace. I blamed it on the newness of this, but it took all of me not to drag her right back to me. She reached into the crib, and little Luis grabbed her by her neck, babbling cheerfully. "I'm sorry, querido," she said, sitting back down next to me. "You probably didn't want to see all that, hey? What about I give you to tía Valentina?" She pressed her lips to his forehead, then smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat, not for the first time that day.

Yes. Give him to Valentina. Sounded like a smart idea. Then I could kiss her again, without having to stop, without ever going too far, because she was my girlfriend, or I guess maybe even fiancée, and how that word didn't scare me but only seemed to make the little lights dance even wilder, I didn't know, and I didn't care either.

Before I could say anything, the door was thrown open. She startled, I felt her flinch, saw her grip on Luis' tightening. Valentina barged in like we'd accidentally summoned her, clad in a bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head. "Did someone say my name?" she called out. Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward to inspect the ring, as if she'd known it was there.

She probably did.

Wouldn't surprise me if she'd been listening with her ear pressed to the door.

There was a dramatic cry, and June startled a second time. "Honey, is that an engagement ring? Are you getting married?"

"Calm down, Vale, you're scaring Luis..."

She was. The little guy was covering his ears with his hands, glaring up at the offender with a sulky lip. Seemed like she didn't care at the moment. She lifted the boy from June's lap, and unceremoniously placed him in mine — shit. I was holding a baby. I'd done it before, mostly during the time I'd volunteered at the community center, though no one had ever put me on the spot like this. He gazed up at me with large brown eyes, his mouth wide open, and no idea if it was his name or if there was a real resemblance, but something about him reminded me of Mr. Guevara. It was bizzarre, and still, I wondered if maybe, this was his way of saying he was okay with it all.

Yeah, bizarre.

Valentina had snatched June's left hand, examining the ring from up close, like it was a diamond. Judging by the exaggerated sounds of excitement she produced, she was impressed. "You're going to have to hire me as a wedding planner. I'm expensive," she rambled. "I'm thinking the venue will have to be a castle of some sort. Wait, is it going to be in New York or California?"

If it wasn't for June frowning, telling me that was absolutely not what she wanted, I would've panicked. Now I just chuckled. "A castle? How rich do you think I am?"

She didn't get the chance to answer that, luckily. Behind her, David appeared in the doorway, still wearing a long denim coat, dripping with water. It had to be raining outside; when he threw back his hood, his hair was stuck to his face. "Hola," he said, "what's this I hear, Yunita? You getting hitched?"

Although June sighed, putting her hands on her hips, I had to keep a grin from my face — yeah, she was, someday, and she was going to send me thousands of the kind of burning looks she was currently directing at her other cousin, and somehow, even that seemed like a wonderful prospect. "Vale," she said slowly, "how does he know that?"

Valentina only shrugged innocently, her chin in the air, but David already took out his phone, showing us the screen:

Vale: OMG OMG JUNE IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!

Well, that answered the question, alright. Seemed like she'd messaged the whole family: more and more texts were coming in, asking the who and the when. June groaned, letting herself fall against my shoulder — the little lights, however, were shining, and I knew she didn't really mind.

"What?" Valentina said. "I just happened to overhear him asking."

June shook her head. "He didn't even ask in exact words, how could you — wait, were you spying on us?" Her eyes traveled up, to where a large crevice between the door and the doorpost would give a good enough view on what was happening in the room.

David chuckled, a low and grumbling sound, and slapped Valentina weakly on the back, telling her something in Spanish I didn't understand. She said something back, clearly offended, crossing her arms across her chest. Then, he turned to me. "Nice to meet you, man," he said. "You must be that Nathan-guy? — Yeah, yeah, little man, I know, I'm home now." Luis had cried out annoyed, stretching his arms towards his dad, and David took him from me, pressing a kiss on his son's head. "You miss me?" he said. "I missed you, hey."

Valentina huffed and dragged up June's hand to his face so violently she almost fell forward. "Yes, yes, we all know you love your boy," she said, "but can we just focus on the fact that we're going to have to plan a wedding?!"

"I thought it was June who was getting married, not you."

Next to me, June let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you, David," she said. "And Vale, I think you missed the part where he said someday. That's a very important word. It could be years before any wedding is taking place—"

Valentina frowned sternly, making her towel wobble on her head. "Can I just remind you all that it was me who made this happen? You guys would still be miserable without me. I did this, you know. I think I deserve a place in the wedding planning and all—"

"Yes, of course. Someday."

She rolled her eyes. "Why wait? You're way too boring, the both of you. Your mom and dad got married after only a few months, didn't they?"

The little lights dimmed somewhat, and for the first time since I kissed her, that overwhelming seriousness took hold of her features again, making her tense against me. Without saying anything, I took her hand, squeezing it tightly — did Valentina have to mention her parents? She only stared, seemingly thinking of something to say, or maybe trying not to say something.

"Yes, but her father and I were meant to be."

It was a fifth voice, one I hadn't heard in two years and definitely wasn't expecting to hear now, and judging by June's hand jerking under mine, neither did she. David and Valentina turned around, both at the same time. Behind them stood Mrs. Aranda, her hands buried in the pockets of her coat, only she didn't look like the woman I remembered, small and somewhat unkempt, with her grey-streaked hair in a messy ponytail. She wasn't looking at her daughter — she was looking at me, accusing eyes reminding me of everything I'd ever done wrong.

"So," she said, and her voice was sharp and full of venom, "you managed to steal her away from me for good, huh? Told her all about what I said and did, no doubt, like the selfish man you are."

Yeah, selfish I was, or at least, trying to be, in the way June had asked of me, but never in the way she meant. Something gave me the nerve to touch the green stone, never letting go of her hand, and before I could stop myself, I said: "I didn't tell her anything."

For the first time ever, the color in Mrs. Aranda's face drained away, while she glared at me unblinkingly, and somehow, it finally felt like I wasn't that young kid anymore. June glanced from me to her and back — she was going to find out, there was no going back now, her mother had dug her own grave. "Didn't tell me what?" she said, a little breathlessly, like she was afraid to ask the question.

Her mother didn't back off, though her lips were still pressed tightly together, as if the reality of her mistake had wired them shut.

Valentina cocked her head, the towel coming undone and falling towards the floor. No one paid any attention to it. "Tía, what did you do?"

She raised her chin, but it couldn't help her anymore, not now. "What any mother would've done," she said. "You only caused her pain. You made her weak. She deserved better than you."

I did cause her pain. She did deserve better — so that was what I was going to be, better. I was about to say that, only Valentina didn't give me a chance: "What are you talking about? What happened? What did you do?"

A bitter smile touched the edge of her dry lips, like the corners lifted up involuntarily, and she traced her brow, finally moving her eyes to her daughter. "I was looking out for you. Whatever you think you know now or knew back then... You had no idea what was good for you." Something about her stance told me she was sure that she was in the right, that she believed every word she said, and I wondered: was this what all mothers were like? "And he wasn't good for you. So yes, when I heard that voicemail, I deleted it—"

"Not good for her?" Valentina jerked her head back. "What voicemail? What is this?"

That voicemail — I'd forgotten about it entirely. At the time, I assumed no one had ever heard it: Mr. Guevara had already been gone when I left it, why would anyone have listened to it? But she had. This woman, right in front of us, had been the only one to receive that message, my probably too eager unintended love confession, and she chose not to mention it.

They stared, both of them, at each other, something suspicious glinting in June's brown eyes. "What voicemail?" June repeated, a lot softer, turning her attention to me.

For some reason, the memory of it was suddenly embarrassing, and my other hand went to my hair, rubbing it at the back. "Two years ago, I err — I left your dad a voicemail saying I loved you and was coming back home," I said, tumbling over the words like a kid doing their first class talk. "He'd already passed away by then, but I didn't know that at the time."

She frowned, gazing back up at her mother, her head tilted. "There was a voicemail of Nathan saying he loved me," she said, her voice constricted, and her whole body tensed, the hand that wasn't holding mine clenching into a fist, "and you never told me? You just... deleted it?"

"Yes," she said, no hesitation, "yes, I absolutely did. You were a seventeen-year-old who had just lost her father. The last thing you needed was some entitled boy wreaking more havoc in your life. You would've wanted to stay, you would've made the biggest mistake of your life, and I—"

"So you let me believe he didn't love me?" June jumped up now, filling up the only space left in the small room, forcing herself chest to chest with her mother. Both of her hands were curled up into fists now, the right one pressed into her side. "You thought it would be better to destroy my self-esteem than to give me a chance to be with a guy I loved?"

"Oh, stop being such a dramatic teenager." Mrs. Guevara sneered, not backing away, and for once, she reminded me of Madeline. "If that destroyed your self-esteem, good luck getting through the rest of your life. I was protecting you. I was protecting you when I deleted that voicemail, and I protected you when I told him to stay in that taxi and leave New York, and you clearly needed it. Obviously didn't work, though. 'Cause here we are." She opened her arms, gesturing around her.

June let out a shaky breath. She was trembling, her nails digging into her own skin. "He came to New York? He came to New York, and you made him leave?"

"Yes, and yes," her mother said, harsh and clear, almost as if she was enjoying the damn confession. "And lucky I spotted him too, before it was too late. He was right there, only a few feet away from you, but thank god you didn't see him — thank god I wasn't too late."

Brown eyes searched for mine, asking the question I'd known would come, and I nodded quietly. "It's true."

"Fuck," June said, her voice almost breaking. David covered his son's ears but didn't move, seemingly as transfixed as the rest of us. "Fuck. You were jealous. You're still jealous. You've always been jealous."

Her mother huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "Excuse me?"

She was trembling now, her fists pressing into her sides, her cheeks burning red. I wanted to hold her, protect her from getting hurt even more, but there was nothing I could do at this point. "You know," she said, "if you didn't want to share dad with anyone, maybe don't make a baby."

Valentina gasped audibly, taking a step back, and if I'd been Mrs. Aranda, I'd have done the same. She didn't though, even came closer. "You know what?" she said, raising a finger. "You're right. Yes, I resent you. I don't want to, but god, I resent you. I gave up my life for you. I did nothing but work, work, work, so you could have a future. But where was my future, June?" She let out a bitter laugh, baring her teeth. "Where was my future? America the great, huh? But only if you're rich." That was directed at me, the words as sharp as a knife, and despite all the horrible things she'd said, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her — after all, she was right about the latter, and it was completely unjustifiable. "And your father... You always came first for him. He gave up his fucking dignity for you. You have no idea how it hurt him when you got all those new clothes and a new phone and a new laptop, but he let it go because you needed it. He would do everything for you. Even die."

Tears filled up June's eyes, threatening to spill. I wanted to pull her away from there, hug her for hours, until she'd forget about this terrible confession — to see her like this, damn, I almost couldn't handle it. Even Valentina just stood there, not knowing what to say. David was the one who broke the silence, with a soft, deep voice, patting his son's back: "That's kinda how it's supposed to be, you know. Kids being number one and all. I'd die for Luis as well." He said it like he was sharing a well-known scientific fact, and I could fully imagine it to be true — I'd probably have died for Sam too, and he wasn't even my kid.

"So, you decided to punish me, just for existing?" June shook her head, slowly, repeatedly, all traces of happiness lost.

"I don't know," she said, "I really don't. I just thought, when he came back for you, after all this shit, she gets to live in a mansion? She gets to marry some guy and live like fucking royalty? No. No. Absolutely not."

June's cheeks were wet, her lips quivering. Something stung, and I realized my fists were clenched — it took everything in me not to push that woman aside, to take her daughter's hand and lead her to a place far away from here, and tell her I loved her a thousand times over. Because in the end, whatever she claimed, I knew she'd still wanted her mother's approval. Her mother's love. And if anyone knew what it was like to have that denied, it was me.

The silence reverberated, everyone stunned, even the baby. Then, June lifted her chin. "I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."

"I didn't ask you to, did I?" Her eyes were hard as glass, dark and unrelenting, like there was no emotion except for anger in there.

"I wished you did," June said quietly, and strangely, her whole body relaxed, all tension suddenly gone. Defeat. "It wasn't me that ruined your life, mom. It was money, or the lack of it. And I understand how difficult that must have been. To work so hard, and yet barely get by. It's so unfair. But for you to say it was my fault, that is really unfair too. So yes, I don't think I can forgive you."

Mrs. Aranda smiled, only it was an empty smile, almost vile. "Well, I suppose you have enough time to think it over, now that the only thing you have to worry about is if the cleaning lady isn't stealing your silverware." And with one simmering look of contempt, she stormed away, slamming the door behind her with such force that June startled.

Finally, Valentina seemed to unfreeze, unleashing a wave of Spanish curses, heard by the whole neighborhood — she turned around, only June stopped her. "No," she said, "let her go. It's fine."

"It's not fine," I said, "she doesn't get to say those things, Junie. It's — it's..." I wanted to find the right word, the one that would express how fucked up this was, and how she deserved so much better —

But she smiled, a genuine smile, one that I felt deep inside. "It's fine," she said again, "I have all of you, so it's fine."

A tear rolled down her cheek, the remnants of her crying earlier. I brushed it away with my thumb, gingerly, and she trained her eyes on me. She didn't talk, just lay still, looking at me. She was exhausted: a frown lined her face, her skin reddened and radiating with heat. I couldn't stop touching her, the tips of her curls, the nape of her neck, the ring on her finger, any part of her. All those years ago, I'd thought she'd resembled her mother, that they had the same smile. And maybe she still did, like I probably looked like my mother. Only it didn't matter. After all, she was her own person.

She was just June.

And that was probably the best damn thing anyone could be.

"Nice mothers you and I got, hey?" she said, as if she'd read my thoughts. For all I knew, she had. She'd always been good at seeing through me.

I chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The fridge buzzed so loudly I wouldn't have been surprised if it would've burst into flames. Outside, a police car raced by, followed by an ambulance, the sirens somewhat drowned out by the pouring rain lashing on the windows. A tattered blanket was fastened to the frame with a few nails, but still a few streaks of streetlight managed to invade the room. We'd gotten the sofa bed all by ourselves; Valentina slept in June's bed, David on a camping pad on the floor next to her. I'd offered to take the pad myself, or book a hotel room, but David wouldn't have any of it and locked himself in the bedroom before I could do anything else. At least part of her family was great. That was more than I could say.

"Yeah, we really lucked out on that, didn't we?"

She laughed at that, then rolled over to her back, staring at the ceiling. A deep sigh, and she turned her head to look at me. "We have a bigger problem right now."

At that moment, with her in my arms and the ring on her finger, I absolutely couldn't think of a single problem we were supposedly having. I couldn't even imagine having a real problem ever again. It was all fixed. "What problem?"

A pointed look. "Sam."

"Oh Sam," I said, folding my arms behind my head. "Yeah, don't worry about that."

She shook her head. "What are you talking about? He basically wanted to kill you last time you kissed me."

"Good thing he's not here then, or I'd be dead." Without warning, I pulled her towards me, right on top of me — she shrieked, the bed creaking, little lights shining in those brown eyes, while I attacked her neck, then her jaw, her cheek, and finally, her lips, making her go limp in an instant. It was strange, how everything made sense when I kissed her, how out of all the things I could be feeling, I mostly felt safe. Just safe. She giggled, ran her hand through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

"Look at you being all smug," she said, and I had to give everything to keep watching her face, and not any lower to where her top had shifted, showing me a lot of smooth skin I desperately wanted to touch — not the time, not the place. A squeaky bed only a few feet away from her cousins who were only separated from us by a paper-thin wall wasn't ideal, I'd decided earlier, only it seemed to get harder and harder to remind myself of that.

"Yeah, well, I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

"I have a solution to one of your fears about college."

"Oh, really?" The little lights were flickering, drawing all attention to her eyes.

"Remember you were afraid you might get stuck in a shirt? — Well, if that does happen, I don't mind helping you out."

She laughed hard now, her head thrown back, even though I wasn't even sure if I'd been joking, and her curls tickled my face — remember the squeaky bed. Remember the cousins and the paper-thin wall. "You'd drive forty miles, just to get me out of a shirt?"

"Absolutely."

Suddenly, she stopped, turning away. Biting her lip, she looked at me again, the lights glinting temptingly. "Well, I think we should practice first. To see if you're up to the task. As soon as we get home."

My breath got stuck in my throat, and I wasn't sure if I would still be able to speak. She was still on top of me, all of her body, and she must've noticed by now how much I liked that idea. "Great. Where is my phone? We should book a flight."

She laughed.

Sometimes her hand jerked like it wanted to get away — holding hands wasn't easy for her, she'd said. I'd said we didn't need to if it took that much effort, but she was determined to, like she wanted to show everyone in Soundview I was with her. The sun caught her hair, making the curls seem like they were dipped in gold while they bounced to her step. She waved at a lot of people, and a lot of them were curious, some even stunned, like her abuela. That was why she'd suggested taking a walk before leaving — not to show me the neighborhood, or at least, not as the sole reason, but to show them how happy she was. I didn't mind. I'd do this every day with her, if she liked.

Her hand twitched again, but I didn't give it a chance to escape. I would never let go.