Her Perfect Affair Read online

  “One really important pro is that if I leave my current job to work at Taylor & Millward, I won’t have to go to Japan. No more worrying about turning down that project, potentially torpedoing my promotion, so I can be here for you and the baby.”

  “Wait a minute.” She frowned, replaying his words in her head and zeroing in on one key point. “What do you mean, ‘torpedoing’? You said it wouldn’t be an issue if you requested to be taken off the project, even though I told you not to do it for the wrong reasons.”

  Unease wormed its way through her, quickly growing in intensity.

  “You can’t make this decision, whether it’s moving to the firm or staying where you are and vying for that promotion, based on what you think I need. This is your career. Something you’ve worked hard for.”

  “Yes, but you’re part of the equation now. I have to consider what’s right—”

  “Don’t!” she cried.

  Horrified by what she was sure he’d say next, Rosa shook off his hands and edged away. Her worst fear sprawled between them like Lake Michigan separating its various shores.

  Words like “have to” and “what’s right” were nothing close to the terms of endearment she wanted, needed, from him. She refused to accept anything less.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she took the first one, adding a measure of height to better meet him eye to eye.

  “I appreciate you wanting to do the right thing, Jeremy. But let me assure you, the ‘right thing’ is for you to consider what will fulfill you.”

  She shook her head at him when he took a step toward her. It was difficult, but she forced herself to continue, determined not to show her devastation.

  “You were right. It’s late. We’re both tired, and we’ve been under a lot of stress. Tomorrow’s a big night for my students and me. Not to mention, with Father Yosef and two board members planning to attend, I need to focus on making a good impression. And you—”

  She grabbed onto the railing, when what she really wanted was to grab on to him, beg him to see her as more than a responsibility. “You have a big decision of your own to make. An exciting one. And I’m so thrilled for you, whatever you decide. All I want is for you to be happy, Jeremy. If you are, then I will be, too.”

  Her voice shook the slightest bit on the last word, and she cleared her throat to cover the tremor.

  She expected Jeremy to argue, like he’d done last week. Instead, he stared back at her, his expression contemplative.

  He bobbed his head up and down in tiny nods. But she had no idea what he agreed with.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” he finally replied, his matter-of-fact tone making her heart ache. “Know that, whatever happens, I won’t make my decision lightly. And I definitely won’t make it for the wrong reasons.”

  He snagged his keys off the oak hutch and pocketed them. “Get some rest. I’ll see you at the open mic night tomorrow.”

  The door closed quietly behind him and Rosa sank onto the stairs. Tucking her feet under her, she laid her forehead on her knees and let the tears of disappointment flow.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Thank you for coming. The students and I appreciate your support.” Rosa hugged Father Yosef, then shook hands with the two school board members who had arrived at Queen of Peace’s library with him.

  “I’m Frank Walker. Thank you for the invitation.” The middle-aged gentleman gave her a polite smile as he introduced himself, the room’s fluorescent lights shining off his bald head. His khaki pants and plaid Ralph Lauren sweater vest over a button-down shirt and tie spoke of his conservative bent. One he undoubtedly shared with many others on the board.

  She hoped witnessing the good she was doing with her students would sway him in her favor.

  “Part of our duties include attending student activities,” Mr. Walker went on. “I am quite a fan of American poetry. Indeed, I was intrigued when I recently learned about the club’s formation.”

  “Oh, I’ve been hearing about this event for weeks now. Hi, I’m Debra Hall, thrilled to join you.” The young mom’s exuberance eased Rosa’s nervousness. Debra’s curly, black bob bounced as she surveyed the room, waving to Marla and her parents seated at a table off to the right.

  “Marla’s our babysitter,” Debra explained. “As soon as she joined the club, she told us about it. She’s even gotten our eight-year-old writing poetry verses. Her latest bedtime must-read is Where the Sidewalk Ends, so thank you.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Rosa answered, relieved by the positive endorsement. “Marla’s a great addition to the group. All the students have been rehearsing in preparation for tonight. Some are a little more nervous than others. But they’re excited to share their pieces.”

  “We are looking forward to it. As it seems many others are, too,” Father Yosef said, smiling as he took in the number of people filling the library tables.

  After handing each of them a program listing the individual students and the titles of their poems, she gestured toward the card table set up at the end of the checkout counter. A Christmas-y tablecloth covered the table laden with two-liters of soda, water bottles, cups with ice, and a tasty mix of pan dulce, her niece’s favorite Florecitas cookies, brownies, and other desserts.

  “Please, enjoy the refreshments and find yourself a seat. We’ll get started in”—Rosa glanced at her slender gold watch—“less than twenty minutes.”

  The group moved farther into the open space, but Rosa remained by the door, taking in the scene before her.

  All her students had arrived early as requested, so there were no worries about tardiness or no-shows.

  The boys looked dapper in dress shirts and slacks. Iván and Ricky had balked at her suggestion of wearing a tie. Unlike Javier, who sported a skinny black tie paired with black dress pants and a cranberry shirt.

  The girls had jumped at the opportunity to leave their school uniforms at home, especially Marla and Barbara. Those two constantly chattered about the latest fashion trends, bemoaning their uniforms. Thankfully they’d remembered that even night functions were held to school dress codes. Barbara’s red suede skirt barely hit below her fingertips, but her brown leggings did the trick.

  Across the room, Ricky laughed at something his younger brother said, and Rosa smiled along with them.

  A sense of satisfaction filled her, calming her nervous jitters.

  They had a really great turnout.

  Family and friends had come in support of each student, filling most of the six-person tables. Carlotta’s entire family was here, along with Iván’s abuela and Sherry Robinson, the English teacher who’d given him the ultimatum that had led to his joining the club in the first place. It pleased Rosa to see her coworker supporting him. Javier’s parents and older brother sat at another table. His younger sister made her way toward them with two pieces of pan dulce and a cup of soda, her dark pigtails bouncing with each step. Barbara and Marla’s group took up three whole tables. Their parents, their siblings, a few girlfriends, and now Debra Hall gathered around chatting.

  Lilí and Yaz were seated to the left of the podium on the opposite side of the room. Maria and Tomás had wandered off to the children’s section, but a napkin holding a brownie and a pile of Florecitas marked her niece’s spot.

  The only person missing was Jeremy, who’d sent a text earlier letting her know he was leaving work and on his way. Traffic could be difficult heading out of the city this time of day. She prayed he’d make it on time.

  Confident that everyone else was taken care of, Rosa headed to her office to gather her notes and center her thoughts before they started.

  She closed the door behind her, shutting out the din not commonly allowed in her library. Tonight, she was grateful to hear it.

  A nervous flutter tickled her belly. She pressed a hand to her stomach, rubbing it through the material of her sweater dress. The combination of nerves and nausea had kept her from eating all but a few bites of papaya and pureed soup most of the day unti
l dinner, which had consisted of several Export Soda crackers and warm rice water.

  With Father Yosef, the two board members, and all the parents in attendance, tonight needed to go well. A trip to the bathroom to be sick was not how she wanted to start things off. Not if her goal was that, this time next year, she’d be in this same office, getting ready for the second annual Poetry Club fall open mic night.

  Stepping to the front of her desk, Rosa gathered up her notes along with her Moleskine poetry journal, which she’d brought to show during her welcome. It was a testament to the value and importance of the written word in her life, though the words within it would remain private, like always. Performing in front of a crowd had never come easy for her, and her poems were too personal to share in front of a crowd.

  The office door opened behind her, the noise in the library filtering in, and she glanced over her shoulder. Relief coursed through her as Jeremy stepped inside, then shut the door. Dressed in a classic dark blue suit, the two-button jacket perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders, he looked devastatingly handsome. But it was the light shining in his blue eyes, the tentative smile directed right at her that stole her heart.

  “You made it!”

  His grin widened at her excited words. “Wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

  He drew his left arm from behind his back to hold out a bouquet of beautiful red roses with white touches of baby’s breath and greenery intermixed.

  “For me?” She dropped her notes and poetry journal on her desk and buried her nose in the flowers, breathing in their rich aroma.

  “A little token to say break a leg.”

  “I’m not performing, you know.” She eyed him above the edge of the gold cellophane wrapped around the bouquet.

  “I know.” He quirked his head to the side, eyeing her with a considering stare. “But this is your show. One you’ve been working toward as much as your kids have. It means a lot to you. So, it means a lot to me.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, touched that he recognized the importance of tonight for her.

  Jeremy checked his cell phone, then slid it back in his pants pocket. “Look, I know you don’t have much time, so I’ll try to be brief. If tonight is like the dance school’s holiday recital, I might not get a chance to speak to you alone if your family plans their usual celebratory hot chocolate extravaganza.”

  “You know you’re welcome to join us,” she invited.

  “Thanks.” He tugged at his shirt collar, a frown crossing his brow momentarily before clearing away. “The thing is, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And talking—with my dad and Mark Henderson. I was up at the crack of dawn this morning. Sitting on my balcony, watching the sunrise over the city, and all I wanted to do was be here, in Oakton. With you.”

  His unexpected admission had Rosa’s heart skipping a few beats. Her arms going slack at her sides. The bouquet nearly slipped from her fingers, her mind registering the flowers sliding out of her grasp seconds before they dropped to the floor.

  In a few long strides, Jeremy stood right in front of her. The seriousness of his gaze, the intensity in his strong jaw took her breath away. His hands encircled her forearms below the edge of her three-quarter-length sleeves, and the heat from his touch sent sparks smoldering through her.

  “I know my timing is crappy,” he said, desperation tingeing his voice. “But I’ve waited too long to say this already. I don’t want to wait another day.”

  “You’re kinda scaring me, Jeremy,” she whispered. Pero Dios, she hoped it was scary for a good reason.

  “I’m sorry.” He cupped her cheeks with both hands, his touch gentle. “I understand that tonight is important. And you’re nervous. I’m hoping what I have to say will reassure you in some way. Last night, you told me that all you want is for me to be happy. Is that true?”

  Not trusting her voice, Rosa nodded mutely.

  “Good. First, I said yes to the job at the law firm. Working alongside my dad and brother is what I’ve always wanted. I know that’ll make me happy. But not completely. What I really need in order to be happy is you. For us to live here, in Oakton, starting our family together. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because there’s no other place I want to be. No other person I want to be with. Not just because you’re having our child. But because you’re the woman who has taught me the value and importance of family. You are my familia.”

  Tears burned in Rosa’s eyes. She bit her lip, wanting to believe him. Afraid to do so.

  Jeremy brushed his thumbs across her bottom lip, prying it loose from her bite. He bent down to drop the lightest of kisses on her lips.

  “If you need time to figure things out, to be sure, I’ll wait. Just know, I’m not going anywhere. Not out of a misguided sense of responsibility. But because this is where I want to be. Are we clear?”

  Again, she nodded dumbly. Shocked by his heartfelt declaration.

  “I love you, Rosa Fernandez. So get used to me being in your corner.”

  Jeremy dropped another quick kiss on her mouth, then quietly left her office.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Rosa fell back onto the edge of her desk. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound a loud echo in her ears. His words played over and over in her head like a recording stuck on repeat.

  I love you, Rosa Fernandez.

  I love you, Rosa Fernandez.

  Elation bubbled up into a giggle, and Rosa slapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

  Ave Maria purísima. Jeremy loved her.

  Her mind raced over the past few weeks, everything he’d done to show her. The realities about himself he’d faced. The decisions he’d made. All proof of his love and commitment to her.

  And here she sat vacillating. Afraid to trust. To believe.

  Why?

  Hadn’t she told her sisters that she was determined to be stronger? To not doubt herself?

  Hadn’t this all started because the night of Yazmine’s wedding she’d decided to take a leap and go for what she desired? Namely him.

  How could she ask Jeremy to soul search, if she herself wasn’t willing to do the same? Willing to take a chance.

  Suddenly, an idea sparked. A scary one. But still . . . she knew what she had to do.

  Dios mío, the very idea terrified her, which meant it was exactly the right thing.

  * * *

  Rosa stepped to the podium on trembling legs amid the sound of fingers snapping in appreciation of Javier’s spoken-word performance. The kid had wowed the audience with his wit, keen play on words, and intellectual view of the world and his place in it.

  All of her students had done well. The chorus of snaps and proud smiles from family and friends throughout the night had filled her with pride for her kids.

  Adjusting the mic with one hand, Rosa held a death grip on her journal with the other. Sweat slicked her palms, trickled down her spine. A nervous shiver shimmied across her shoulder blades and she adjusted the cowl neckline of her grey sweater dress, flush with heat.

  “How about another round of snaps for all our students and their amazing job tonight?” she said.

  She waited several seconds, allowing the kids to soak in the audience’s appreciation. They deserved it.

  “Now, I know the program lists Javier as our final performer. But if you will indulge me. It seems as if my students”—she let her gaze travel the room, pausing on each one of her kids—“along with one other special person”—she looked at Jeremy, the surprise in his baby blues giving her enough of a confidence boost to continue—“have given me a heavy dose of courage and there’s a short piece I’d like to share.”

  Carlotta clapped with glee, the young girl’s obvious pleasure tugging a nervous smile from Rosa.

  She chanced a quick look at her sisters, both of whom stared at her with wide bug-eyes. They knew sharing her work was something Rosa never—not rarely, but never—did.

  As she opened her journal, Papi’s letter marking h
er place, Rosa closed her eyes. She didn’t need to see the letter to know what it said.

  Papi’s voice spoke to her, as if he stood beside her whispering the words in her ear.

  Es hora de que escribas tu historia. Sé que va a ser una maravilla.

  He was right. The time had come for her to write her own story. And yes, it was going to be marvelous.

  “This piece is untitled. Because, well . . .” She cleared her throat, gripped the edges of the podium to keep her hands from shaking. “Because I, um, I actually finished it moments before we started this evening. So, um, here we go.”

  Eyes glued to the words she’d carefully written on the page, she took a deep breath, offered up a prayer for courage, and began reading aloud:

  Untitled

  It ebbs; it flows.

  It takes you down paths undiscovered.

  It warms you. Scares you.

  Makes a person bare her deepest soul.

  It hurts. Empowers.

  Confuses, elates,

  Excites, alarms,

  Overwhelms and takes your breath away.

  It comforts in the darkest of times,

  Challenges you to rise up and fight

  For good, for what’s right, for each other.

  And when Love beckons,

  When he asks you to trust,

  To believe,

  To take that leap together, till death do you part . . .

  The answer, para siempre, for always, is Yes.

  When she reached the last word, not a single snap sounded in the library, as if somehow everyone knew the importance of this moment.

  Rosa raised her head to meet Jeremy’s gaze. He stood next to his chair, his expression a sweet mix of questioning wonder.

  Yes, she mouthed the word to him. Wanting her message to be clear.

  He stepped toward her, and Rosa moved out from behind the podium, meeting him halfway.

  “Does this mean what I hope it means?” He reached for her hands, clutched them tightly between his.