Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I mean, I did it to myself, but still.
I just threw myself out there.
But it’s my truth.
I am totally in love with Ambrosia Mercer.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Dawson
I thought being in love would be completely terrifying. I thought I would feel trapped, but that’s not the case.
By putting words to my feelings, I feel…relieved.
I’m not an obsessed stalker, I’m in love… Wait, is that what obsessed stalkers tell themselves too?
Shit. No, I’m not a stalker. I’m just a dude in love for the first time.
And the last.
Man, that’s a hell of a thought.
Why do I feel out of control? Is that love? And wait, what if she doesn’t love me? Or doesn’t fall for me? It’s taken me almost three months just to get her to kiss my damn jaw. What if she doesn’t love me for like two years or some crazy shit?
Great. Now, I’m scared.
I lean into Ambrosia’s kitchen counter, about to reach for my phone to call Louis. I need him to talk me off the ledge, but I pause when Ambrosia’s mom and aunt enter the kitchen. The room is a bold orange with lots of brightly colored framed mosaics and photos of Puerto Rico. I didn’t know what the photos were at first glance, so I had to read the small text. The two women Ambrosia looks a lot like, with wide hips, bronzed skin, and the same whiskey eyes, grin like cats with canaries in their mouths. There is a reason that Ambrosia is scary, and I’m sure she learned it from her mom and aunt. I don’t want to be rude, but I sure as hell want to run to the safety of my mom and dad. I know they are recording the ending of the episode since I totally mucked it up with my feelings.
“My husband liked you a lot.”
I was not expecting that, but hearing it makes me stand taller as I tuck my hands into my pockets. “I respected him a lot.”
Mrs. Mercer smiles at me as she sits down. Naylia pulls out a chair and taps it for me. “Come sit.”
My heart kicks up as I lower my big body into a chair that isn’t made for someone my size. I push it back a bit since my knees hit the table, but I smile to show I don’t mind. I look between the two women, unsure what to say but knowing I need to be here. These two are the closest people to Ambrosia, and if I want to be in her circle, I need them to love me just as I love her.
Mrs. Mercer reaches for my hand, and I let her take it. She squeezes it. “I want to thank you for being there for my Ro when she was sad. She wouldn’t talk to us, but when I spoke to her after she saw you at the rink, she was better.”
I smile widely. “I don’t mind at all. I want to be there for her.”
They seem pleased with that as Naylia says, “You know she is very special.” When I nod, she nods too. Then she leans in, her face so close to mine I can see the hairs on her top lip. She is a beautiful woman, so I wasn’t expecting hair there, but I don’t have time to dwell before she tells me, “You know, I can kill a man ten times my size.”
I bark out a laugh as Mrs. Mercer says something quick in Spanish, and then Ambrosia’s voice fills the room. “Tía, get away from him. You’re too close.” She physically pulls her aunt’s chair away, scooting the woman to the other side of the table as she sets her with a look. “No flirting with my…my…Dawson.”
My heart swells as I gaze up at her flushed face. “Boyfriend.”
She gives me a look. “Shh, you.”
“She wasn’t flirting either,” I say with a grin. “She was threatening my life.”
Ambrosia glares. “Tía! Be nice.”
Naylia only shrugs as she gets up, and I notice my parents have entered the small kitchen. A tense silence descends on us as I drink Ambrosia in. She’s glaring at her aunt, but Naylia isn’t the least bit affected by her ornery niece. She cuddles Ambrosia close to her and kisses her cheek. She whispers something in Spanish, reminding me to download the Duolingo app.
Before I can, though, my dad announces, “We’re all done.”
“Go well?” I ask Ambrosia, and she nods without looking at me.
“Great.”
“Awesome,” I say as I unfold myself from the chair.
“Are you riding with us, honey?” Mom asks, and I look at Ambrosia. She meets my gaze, and I smile when she doesn’t say hell no or get out.
“Nope. I think I’ll stay.”
Everyone looks at Ambrosia then, and her flush deepens. Her mom stands next and says, “Oh, good thing I made rice. You have snacks? You’re good, yes?”