Chapter Thirteen

”You”re so nervous,” said Tati as I helped her set the table. Her mom fussed around the stove and oven while we laid out the plates. Mrs. Silva had Reagan standing on a chair next to her while they cracked eggs into a bowl. Reagan chatted a thousand words a minute, it seemed, but her grandmother didn”t miss a beat.

”Clementine meeting Frankie makes me nervous. I don”t trust her…”

”Your feelings are valid, Jags. Frankie”s a lot. It”s not her you have to trust though. You have to trust Clem and in that she can handle herself. She”s made it this far in life. She knows who Frankie is and I”m sure she”s run into her if she hangs around the salon. And we”re all here to support you both.” She smooched my cheek then patted my arm. ”Meet her downstairs so you have a few minutes alone before the tension gets high.”

”She said she”d be here in ten minutes…”

”Good. Intercept her, then take a moment. ”Kay?”

I nodded then glanced at Wyatt when he returned from his shower. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and tossed me a wink. ”I can handle the napkin rings.”

We all chuckled at that, and I broke away from them to head downstairs like Tati suggested.

The traffic bustled there, but less so on a Sunday as I pushed myself up to sit on the stoop outside the building. I watched my worn-out Vans bounce against the stone wall while I swung my legs. My worry wouldn”t cease as my mind imagined the various scenarios where Frankie offended Clementine and it sent her running off from my life. I couldn”t quite bear the thought, and it only fueled my anxiety more. A chill lingered in the air, reminding me that winter would arrive soon, and the world would lose some of its color again. Most times I didn”t mind it, but for some reason I did today.

Warmth wrapped my fingers suddenly, and slender hands bearing fingerless gloves encased mine. I smiled right away when Clementine appeared in front of me. She wore a cozy beanie with a cute fluffy ball on top. The way it forced her hair to cradle her face brought out her stunning features. I cupped her cheeks right away, and she giggled.

”Did you know that New York is getting more than six feet of snow in some places right now?” she said, out of nowhere.

I chuckled, shaking my head. ”I did not, but I agree it”s unusually cold here. It could snow.”

”Maybe a little bit.” She kissed me quickly, her hands gripping mine tighter. ”I missed you.”

”I missed you, too.” Her words heated even the iciest parts of me, and I draped my arms over her shoulders. ”I like your hat.”

”It keeps my head warm.” She grinned while letting her hands rest on my thighs as she stood between my knees. ”Otherwise, its quite hideous.”

”It”s cute.” I laughed hard and hugged her again.

”Are you anxious about something? You picked all the paint out of your nails and left a little pile of it on the step.”

”A little.” I nodded while resting my chin on her shoulder.

”Tell me about why.”

”Because Frankie will be here, and I”m worried she”ll be rude to you.”

”Well, she probably will be, but I”ll expect it. It”s okay.” She gave my ponytail a tug before leaning back to look at me. ”Rudeness is one of my many skills so I can be rude right back.”

I cracked up at that and ran my finger down her cheek. ”I”m here for it.”

”I”m here for you.” She scrunched up her nose then bumped her forehead with mine.

I melted. Right there. Into a puddle. On the stoop. I was a stoop puddle.

”Thank you.” The kiss she allowed me to land on her lips boiled the space between us, and I felt her body relax against me.

”Are you going to let me properly see your room today?” she asked when we parted. Clem didn”t relinquish my hand, however, and turned to lead me back inside.

Sometimes I really liked it when her assertiveness shone through. It nixed some of my anxiety and seemed to not drive up any of hers.

”Maybe.” I laughed as we trudged up the stairs. ”I tidied up just for you.”

”Good.” She tossed me a smile, then opened the apartment door with the amount of comfort belonging to someone who lived there. Knowing she could feel comfortable in my space brought a minor sense of relief to me as we headed inside.

Wyatt and Tati greeted Clem warmly as always, with hugs and cheek kisses. Tati stole her away immediately to meet her mom, and I stood awkwardly beside them as the Portuguese language flew rapid-fire between them. I looked over at Wyatt when he came to stand beside me, his arms folded across his chest while he appeared to concentrate on the exchange. Reagan hugged Clem around the middle briefly, then ran off back to stirring whatever baking ingredients she worked on with her grandma.

”Any clue what they”re saying?” he asked after a moment.

”Teeniest tiniest bit. They”re talking about where Clem stayed in Portugal and where Tati”s family is from. But like, I don”t know the specifics. I just recognize the context.”

”Clem speaks how many languages again?”

”Five or six. Fluently. It”s slightly intimidating,” I said, though with a smile.

Wyatt leaned closer so that his lips pressed my ear. ”You”re in love.”

”Yeah. Like you. Smitten boy.” I motioned at Tati.

”Shut up.” He bumped me with his elbow, and I nudged him right back.

We returned our attention to the others, and I watched as Clem reached into the deep purse that hung off her elbow. I heard the word vinho tumble from her rolling tongue and understood as she pulled the dark colored bottle from her bag. She shook her head, gesturing toward Tati as she handed it to her.

”Tenho a certeza de que o vinho é bom.” Tatiana kissed her cheek. ”Obrigada.”

”éclaro.” Clem waved her hand in front of her while smiling.

”I kinda understood that,” muttered Wyatt.

”I think social etiquette supersedes some language barriers at times,” I said, a smile curving my lips when Clem returned to me.

With pinkness in her pale cheeks, she nibbled her bottom lip for a moment. ”Hi.”

”How”d that go?” I chuckled and cupped my hands around hers when I noticed her wringing them.

”Muito bem.” She smiled and scrunched up her cheeks.

”Good thing I understand muy bien otherwise I”d be totally lost,” I said with a smile.

”You understand more than you think,” she said, then glanced at Tati who reached for wine glasses from the open shelves in the kitchen.

”Did she tell you that?”

”Yep. She said you understand Reagan best.”

”I do. She speaks more simply in Portuguese.”

”She”s fluent though, just age-appropriately fluent.”

I smiled while I listened to the kid and her grandmother return to baking. I understood most of the food words they said and listened to how Tatiana”s mom instructed her on stirring the concoction. A swell of emotions washed over me and I swallowed the thick feeling in my throat. Images of baking with my own grandmother bubbled to the surface. With the anxiety of the situation around me, that vulnerability left room for memories to pop up.

”They”re very cute,” said Clem, her voice soft as her hand fell to the small of my back.

”Yeah.” I gulped, then drew my eyes away.

”Let”s go see your room,” she chirped, a playful smile making it to her lips.

”It”s very small…”

”I don”t care—”

”And kind of immature—”

”I don”t care about that either.”

”And I don”t have a lot of stuff—”

”Are you going to be there?” She huffed as her brows narrowed.

”Um…well, yes.”

”Then that”s enough for me.” She held her hand to me. ”Show me.”

”Okay.” I laughed as I led her away from the others toward my closed bedroom door.

The thick, heavy wood of it greeted us along with the half-dozen faded stickers that usually adorned the decks of skateboards. My street art style doodles, faded with age, accompanied the peeling paint. I drew in a slow breath, fighting the thoughts about leading her into a teenager”s room, as my mind tried to devalue my current earthly existence.

The window, despite its braded security bars, shed dim light over the navy-blue blanket covering my neatly made bed. For the first time this century, my clothes sat on hangers, neatly aligned on the industrial metal bar that stuck out from the brickface in the corner. Immediately, her eyes slid upward toward the ceiling and the enormous mural that I”d worked on years ago. Some of the paint flaked in places from age, but the comic-book style piece was the last thing I saw every night. One panel, a terrestrial seascape, sat beside another full of lush green blooms, capturing the visage of peace brought by the tiny glimpses of nature I”d fantasized about as a young person.

Clem said nothing, her expression almost blank as she stared wide-eyed as if taking in every centimeter of the space. I sat down on the bed with my back facing the wall where the rings of Saturn disappeared behind my pillow propped against the wall. Minutes passed, deadly minutes that had me picking at my nails again. Clem took a step closer to me, nudging my hands down before she slowly lowered herself to sit beside me.

”Wow,” was all she said.

”Wow? What wow?”

”Your art. It”s incredible.”

”It”s old stuff…”

”It”s good stuff.” She finally turned to me, and the still-face she carried before lifted into a broad smile. ”I love it.”

”Thank you.” My cheeks burned with heat when she held my gaze suddenly. The intensity of it, the sheer force of her eye contact bore into me like nothing ever before, and I never wanted to look away.

For once, she held it, allowing herself to settle beside me as if she”d never seen me before. Her gaze flickered over my face, to my lips, then back to my eyes, and she smiled. I reached across the space between us to stroke my finger over the curve of her cheek. She leaned into it, nuzzling my hand before kissing my knuckle.

”I really like your room,” she said, her voice soft. She scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall with her boot-covered feet dangling off the edge. Her purse found its way to the floor beside my skateboard, and I joined her, mirroring her posture.

”Thanks.”

We both looked up to the ceiling again, as if stargazing on a night filled with shooting stars. Our hands, on the bed between us, entangled to grasp each other”s fingers. Clem rested her head on my shoulder, and a sort of calmness found us. In my room, of brick, stone, and old wood, no sounds from the kitchen or common areas made their way in unless someone shouted or guffawed with laughter. The quiet, and near silence of the space was what attracted me to it in the first place. Tati”s loft, open and exposed, shared all of its aspects with the main part of the apartment. Mine, however, shared exactly none. It was my own hideaway of sorts, where I could control the light, the noise, and the simulation. It also had great acoustics for music because of the taller ceiling. Clem seemed to relax into the energy of my room the same way I did, and the solace of it cradled us both.

Tati”s knock on the door broke the moment along with her beckon.

”Dinner”s almost ready and Frankie”s here,” she whispered after I welcomed her entry.

”Thanks for the warning.” I smirked and glanced at Clem.

”I will be fine,” she said, her eyes dropping to stare at Tati”s rattan shoes. ”I can throw a punch with perfect precision.”

Tatiana laughed, her expression brightening with it. ”Well then, we”re all set. Come on then.”

I nodded, and we slid from the bed together, our hands detangling then. I stepped to the door and opened it for her, but we both stood there in a strange pause. My eyes scanned her expression, but it flattened a bit the way it does when I noticed she experienced stress.

”What”s wrong?”

”Are we supposed to hold hands or not hold hands?” she asked, her gaze flickering at me once then toward the others in the kitchen ahead. ”No one else is.”

”We can do whatever makes us comfortable. They”re too involved in eating and conversation to hold hands right now, but we”re not.” I held my hand to her then. ”Only if you want to.”

”Okay. I want to.” She took it without a second thought it seemed, and we headed to the kitchen together.

The noise volume increased exponentially with Frankie”s arrival. As always, she demanded attention with both her personality as much as her style. She exchanged a few physical shoves with Wyatt, who rolled with it as usual, before handing her a glass of red wine. She winked at him, then turned when Tati”s mother called her name. Right away, she calmed down when she ushered her over to the stove to show her what she cooked.

Tati met my gaze and smiled, waving us forward. We joined her and she handed each of us a glass of wine as well.

”Obrigada,” piped Clem as she lifted her glass to Tati in thanks.

”De nada. Getting hungry?” She glanced between us. I shrugged, but Clem nodded.

”I”m always hungry,” she said, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth. In my hand, her fingers tightened and I returned the gesture, unsure if she meant to soothe me or if she needed comforting herself.

Eventually, Frankie and Mrs. Silva returned to the table before Wyatt was called over for a taste test. Reagan bounced along behind him. So much shuffling and movement overwhelmed me, probably because I worried about the first words to fly out of Frankie”s mouth.

”Hey, Clem.” Frankie completely ignored me, and her narrowed eyes landed on Clementine.

”Hello, Frankie.” Clem”s voice became calm and almost monotonous in her response.

Every part of my body tensed as I waited for the next phase of the exchange. I held my breath, but all Frankie did was look at me. And then promptly punched me in the arm.

”Jerk.” I frowned at her and rubbed my shoulder.

She laughed, but turned away from us when Reagan slammed into her with her arms around the middle. ”Frankie! Can you make me a tattoo?”

”Sure, kid.” Frankie set her wine glass down and swooped Reagan onto her hip. ”Where are your markers?”

”By the living room. C”mon!” Reagan pointed behind her and off they went.

I looked from Tati to Clem then back again as most of me finally relaxed. Clem appeared unphased as she sipped her wine.

Mrs. Silva smiled at me, a single eyebrow lifted before she turned back toward her cooking. ”Wyatt, filho, come taste.”

”Yes, ma”am. Happy to taste all the things.” He saluted her and slid over to the stove in his socked feet.

”You”re stiffer than a pipe of tungsten,” said Clem, her voice an unusual sing-song with a higher pitch.

I chuckled but furrowed my brow. ”What”s tungsten?”

”The strongest metal in the world.” She shrugged and promptly looked up at the ceiling. ”This chandelier is not made of tungsten.”

”That would be a cheap IKEA knock off.” Tatiana laughed, her hands on her hips as she followed Clem”s gaze.

”You could do better,” said Clem, again, her tone pretty matter-of-fact.

”What do you mean?” asked Tati.

”It”s an unattractive chandelier. It clashes with the exposed brick. I dislike IKEA. Everything from there is strange.” Clem set her glass down on the table when I did, then finally drew her attention away from the ceiling.

”I will inform the super of the building.” Tati grinned, appearing highly amused by the exchange.

”That might offend him if he picked it out in the first place.” Clem tapped her lip with her index finger before slipping her hand into her pocket.

”Good thing I didn”t pick it then, huh?” Tati lifted a brow at Clem.

A pause followed while Clem”s serious expression lingered until, finally, her gaze flickered to Tati”s and she smiled.

While the two of them continued their exchange, my attention wandered over to Frankie. Her unusually tame behavior concerned me, mainly because the longer she contained herself, the worse she exploded in the end. I feared she would insult Clem or worse—hurt her feelings—which would send her away from me. As if she could feel me watching her, she drew her attention from Reagan to me. I felt my stomach tighten for a moment, but when she wiggled her tongue at me in a suggestive manner then flicked her brows toward Clem, I knew she wasn”t controlling herself too much. I tossed her a scowl and she laughed.

Much to my surprise, dinner went over without a hitch. Mrs. Silva fixed a traditional Portuguese dish called bacalhau com natas, which was a codfish and potatoes recipe. In addition, she made a vegan version with mushrooms instead of fish. Both were amazing. Coupled with cornbread she called broa, and a spread of desserts, my stomach was as content as my mood.

We gathered on the sofa afterward to share coffee or tea, and nibble on the leftover confections.

”I like this best,” chimed Clem as she held up a spoonful of the arroz doce. To me, it resembled some kind of rice pudding.

”It”s good.” I leaned into the comfortable cushions of the sofa while listening to the others carrying on conversations. Even with my closest friends and family, dialogue wasn”t my strong point at times, especially when the stakes were high. They felt high to me tonight, and my brain seemed to forget how to think.

Wyatt and Frankie talked shop as always. Mrs. Silva sat on the floor with Reagan and worked on some sort of beading project, neither of them speaking a lick of English while working together. Tatiana relaxed beside Clem while cupping a mug in her palms as steam rose from it. The relaxed environment soothed me some, but not much. Frankie”s presence always caused concern in general, but today I worried more than usual. It made sense at least.

Eventually, Clementine wandered away from us after a trip to the bathroom. She floated off into the gallery portion of the apartment that lived below Tatiana”s loft. With her hands laced in front of her, she frolicked through the vast fields of Tati”s work with a content half-smile lingering on her lips.

Tati squeezed my knee to get my attention and I looked at her.

”Feeling okay?”

”A little nauseous.”

Tatiana glanced at Frankie then back to me. ”She”s fine, Jags.”

”The night is not over yet.”

”I might live to regret this next statement but…” She drew a deep breath before she said, ”Give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment.” She grimaced afterward. ”I actually said that, didn”t I?”

”You did.” I smirked and looked over at Clem who”d moved on to inspect the bookshelf beside the stack of new canvases. ”I just don”t want Frankie to hurt her feelings.”

”I”m pretty sure that, even if she did, Clem can handle herself.”

”I know, but I don”t want her to not handle me anymore because of it.”

A flop on the sofa startled me when Frankie plopped herself down between me and Tati where Clem formerly sat. ”Don”t worry. I won”t sleep with her.”

”Frankie, c”mon.” I shoved her away from me when she got too close.

”I just defended you. Don”t spoil it.” Tatiana scowled.

”Hmm. Don”t think anyone has ever done that.” She lifted both of her feet to stare down at her clunky black boots. ”I guess I should return your shoes then.”

”Ugh.” Tati snorted. ”Your gross feet can keep them. That”s like Kimmy Gibbler wearing my shoes.”

”Who”s Kimmy Gibbler?” Frankie and I asked at the same time.

”A very underrated secondary character on a television show from the eighties who had terribly malodourous feet.” Clementine returned to us, and delicately seated herself beside me on the other side.

”Very underrated. She was great in the reboot though.” Tati nodded.

”There”s a reboot?” Clem”s eyes widened. ”I would like to see it.”

”I”m down for a rewatch.” Tati chuckled and nodded to the television. ”Anytime.”

”I will join you.” Clem turned her attention to Frankie for a moment and the faintest crinkle flickered across her forehead for a brief moment. She didn”t say anything, but I felt the knuckle of her index finger stroke the side of my thigh.

”Boring,” piped Frankie. ”Let”s watch that new detective show. Crime and—”

”No way. I live a detective show.” My argument would no doubt fall on deaf ears, and I regretted it the moment I said it. Any contrariness would only urge Frankie to push the matter per usual.

”Double boring.” She blew a raspberry at me with her tongue. ”So, Clem. How many languages do you speak?”

”Five fluently,” she answered simply without looking at Frankie. Her attention remained on the tallest wall of the vaulted ceiling that held several of Tatiana”s art pieces. At the bottom, eye-level to a child, Reagan”s work hung in a neat row.

”Jeeze. I hardly speak English.”

”That”s true,” I said, smirking at her.

”Just like you.” Frankie pretended to hiss at me.

I put up my fists at her mockingly and she mimicked me, like we were about to enter a gentle MMA ring.

”I”ve seen many sisters in my life,” began Clem, interrupting the stupidity exchange between Frankie and me. ”And you two act just like them.”

We all laughed at that.

”I agree with Clementine,” said Tati. ”They”re really annoying sometimes, to be honest.”

”I can see how that could be true.” Clem smiled when she said it, her gaze landing on mine. ”But you”re never annoying to me.”

I felt my cheeks catch fire as the blush took over, tightening my throat along with it. Her beautiful face, with a playful expression and sparkling eyes, shone brightly in the highlights of the overhead lighting. A small chuckle left her as she tucked her hair behind her ear and shrugged.

”I”m gonna hurl.” Frankie pretended to choke, then dramatically fainted backwards into the pillows on the floor beside Reagan.

Right away, the kid began giggling her head off and the two of them tumbled into a round of silliness.

I held my hand to Clem and she placed hers in mine. She gave me a squeeze and, in that moment, all of me finally relaxed. She belonged here with us, with me, and for once I didn”t question if I was in the right place at the right time. For the briefest moment, everything felt aligned, and the sensation of resolution settled in my fated heart.