Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gramma turns to Vianca. “Did you show Eve her room?”

“Not yet. You’re going to stay in my room,” Vianca tells me, “and I’m bunking with West in the living room.”

I immediately feel guilty. “You don’t have to give me your room.”

Vianca waves her hand through the air. “West and I stay up all night anyway when he comes. Popcorn, zombie movies, Twizzlers. It’s a whole thing we do.”

“It is,” Gramma puts in. “Take her room. You’ll never get any sleep otherwise.”

I think popcorn, zombies, and Twizzlers sound fun.

A few minutes later Vianca shows me to her room. A twin bed with a trapeze sits under a window with a desk and computer in one corner. A bookshelf lines the wall, and an oversize crème fabric chair takes up the other corner with a thick burgundy throw rug underneath it. It’s all so cozy and wonderful and just the type of room I would have loved to have.

“Dad put your duffel on the bed,” she says. “Make yourself at home and come on out when you’re ready.” With that, she spins her chair and is gone.

“Hey,” West says, coming on in. “What did you think of the grand tour?”

“West, your family is amazing. I can’t believe you grew up in all this love.”

His head tilts adorably, but I see the curiosity in his squinting eyes that asks why “love” is amazing to me when to him it’s normal. He holds out his hand. “Come on out. Dad’s making his world famous nachos for Vianca’s birthday.”

I laugh. “Nachos?”

“It’s what Vianca wanted.”

Smiling, I take his hand, and he leads me into the kitchen where island music already fills the air with a fun drum rhythm. Maria sits at the bar, and there’s a lower section to accommodate Vianca’s chair, and Mr. Wolf stands at the stove stirring something that smells delicious.

Gramma hits the blender and starts dancing to the rhythm.

We take bar seats beside Vianca and Maria, and everyone starts talking at once. Vianca and Gramma, West and his dad, Maria and Gramma, then Vianca and West, Mr. Wolf and Maria, then Gramma and West…and on and on it goes, one conversation bumping into another. Laughter, jokes, yelling over each other.

I sit quietly, taking it all in, loving it. Every once in a while someone asks me a question and I answer, then they’re off on another tangent. It’s exactly what a family should be like.

At some point Gramma puts a frothy drink in front of me and winks. “I make the best virgin margaritas around.”

We serve ourselves nachos, and I have to admit, they are the best nachos I’ve ever had. We all eat right here in the kitchen, piled around the island and the bar. If it had been me, this would be the best birthday ever.

Eventually everyone’s done eating, dishes are piled in the sink, and we all move into the living room. Maria cranks the music louder, and they all start dancing.

Mr. Wolf grabs Maria, and Vianca does some crazy spins in her chair. West dips Gramma, and she laughs and curtsies to Mr. Wolf, and on it goes.

I don’t know what to do, so I sort of hover near the wall, smiling, watching all of them, trying to act like I belong but not quite fitting in. I wonder if this is what an animal feels like in a zoo. Looking out through the bars at all the people laughing and having fun, wondering what it would be like to be out there.

West gyrates over to me, doing the same moves that makes the girls scream. Smiling, I shake my head as he crooks his finger at me.

I press my lips together and then admit, “I don’t know how to dance.”

He bounces his brows, “I do,” and gyrates some more. He takes my hand and leads me onto the makeshift dance floor.

I shoot a nervous glance at his family but they’re not even paying attention to us, so wrapped up in their own laughing and dancing.

West pulls me up tight against him. “Hey, Green Eyes.”

He moves with me across the floor, making it so easy to follow that I don’t have to know how to dance. I’m reminded of that time he hummed and slow danced with me on the rooftop.

“No mushy stuff.” Maria pushes between us.

West laughs and picks her up and the three of us dance together. Gramma joins in, and Vianca, then Mr. Wolf, and we all do some sort of goofy thing in a circle.

Before I know it I’m laughing just as hard as all of them. It’s just plain fun being silly, and I find myself hoping and wishing for more of these moments with West and his family. The companionship. The friendliness. The warmth. I’ve never known anything like it.

Finally the music stops and everyone crashes onto the couch and chairs. Vianca opens her birthday presents next, and then we have banana splits. Soon the sun is setting, and I find myself wishing I could do this day all over again.

Maria comes out of the bathroom from her bath, grabs a book, and climbs right up into West’s lap. In the overstuffed leather chair, he snuggles her in right beside him, opens the book, and Maria begins reading.

I listen to their rhythm, her first, then him, then back to her. They’ve obviously done this several times. He raises his voice at one particular point, and she giggles and snuggles in to his side.

I take in her wet hair, her cloud-patterned pajamas, and his tattooed arm curled around her as he cradles her. What a lucky girl to have so much love. Her eyelids start to droop, and he continues reading, lowering his voice to accommodate lulling her to sleep. I continue watching them, warmed to the core by their special moment.

As if drawn by my stare, West raises his dark eyes to mine. The corners of his mouth curve up a little, and then he goes back to reading.

“Okay, sleepyhead, time to put you to bed,” Gramma calls from the kitchen.

“Nooo,” Maria whines. “I’m not tired.”

“Let’s go,” Gramma counters.

West picks her up and sits her on her feet. He straightens her pajamas. “I’ll see you tomorrow, cutie.”

Maria hugs him and kisses him on the cheek. “Night, West.” With a yawn, she pads over to me and gives me a hug, too. “Night, Eve.”

I return her hug, loving the cuddle of it.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes to tuck you in,” Gramma tells her.

“Want some coffee, Eve?” Mr. Wolf asks from the kitchen.

“Sure. Anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, come keep me company.”

West grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen. We both takes seats at the bar while Mr. Wolf grinds beans. Vianca’s in the kitchen, too, flipping through a magazine and sipping hot chocolate.

“So what’s going on with Maria?” West quietly asks.

His dad looks up from the coffee pot. “Your Aunt Ty did another disappearing act and this time she didn’t come back.” Mr. Wolf turns to me. “My sister would rather party than be a mother,” he explains.

“There’s more,” Vianca whispers.

West looks up at his dad who lets out a long sigh. “We found bruises on her.”

Everything in me goes very still.

None of them say a word for a few seconds, and then West drops his head into his hands.

Gramma comes back into the kitchen and immediately picks up on the mood. “What’s wrong?”

“We told West about Maria,” Mr. Wolf answers her.

Gramma shakes her head. “That girl’s seen more tragedy in her tiny eight years than most people do in a lifetime.”

If only they knew…and suddenly I feel compelled to assure them she’s going to be okay. “Yes,” I quietly say, “but the rest of her life will be one filled with safety and love.”

West lifts his head and looks at me. Really, really looks at me, and I feel his searching dark gaze to my very core. Then he reaches over and simply takes my hand, and with that gesture I know he’s silently telling me that he hears me. He hears me.