Then, she’d merely taken him into her bed. Now, she was truly letting him into her life.
Ana didn’t seem to relax much once they reached the party. And Ward was too cued into her moods to enjoy himself if she wasn’t having a good time. Enjoy himself much, anyway.
Nilda, Ana’s mother, greeted him with barely repressed joy. If Ana hadn’t warned him that she’d never brought a guy home, he might have been surprised by Nilda’s speculative gaze and exuberant hug. Nilda squeezed him so affectionately, he nearly couldn’t breathe.
“I warned you,” Ana muttered under her breath once he was released.
Juan, Ana’s father, was more naturally reserved. A balding, gray-haired man, he carried himself with a sort of old-world dignity that belied his diminutive height and expansive girth. He shook Ward’s hand firmly in a way that told Ward he was being sized up.
Somehow he doubted that either his profession or his wealth were in his favor. “My Ana,” Juan said seriously in heavily accented English. He stood close enough to Ward not to be overheard. “She is like a rose, delicate, beautiful…” He waggled his hand in an iffy gesture. “But the stem of the rose is tough. You can’t easily separate it from its bush. If you are not careful, either you will get scratched, or you will crush the blossom and then it will wither and die—” he snapped his fingers “—very quickly. You understand?”
Ward nodded. “I do, sir.”
Juan gave him one last assessing look and then slapped him heartily on the arm. “Very good. Come and have a cerveza.”
After that, Ward didn’t talk to Ana for another hour or two. Her father guided him around, introducing him to friends and relatives. Most of the men had congregated in the backyard, whereas the women had holed up in the kitchen. This far inland, the temperature was warmer. The weather was unexpectedly warm for February and the ice-cold beer was all the more refreshing when sipped under the expansive shade of an avocado tree. There were kids playing on the lawn, and plenty of parents around to shoo them away from the barbecue pit where carne asada and cabrito were being grilled. Women streamed constantly in and out of the house carrying trays of food. Someone had set a radio out on the patio and a steady stream of Ozomatli tunes had been playing. With their unique combination of Latino hip-hop and urban world beat, Ozomatli was one of his favorite Los Angeles bands. All in all, he couldn’t have picked a more festive setting.
Comparing this to the elegant party of the previous evening, he had a new appreciation for why Ana hadn’t wanted to go the Hudsons’ party. This was much more fun.
What worried him was that she didn’t seem to be enjoying it. Sure, she spent plenty of time talking to her relatives, but he could clearly read her posture. Stiff and unyielding. Awkward. Like she didn’t fit in and was waiting for someone else to notice. It was telling that she’d actually seemed more comfortable at the party the previous evening. Here she just seemed ill at ease.
There was only one person who seemed even less comfortable among the boisterous crowd: Ricky. Ward was surprised, but not shocked, when he spotted Ricky slouching among some of the older kids. He went over to say hello, exchanged a few words and even met Ricky’s mother. He’d seen Ricky once since he’d returned from Charleston. He could tell already that Ricky would be a tough nut to crack. But the kid liked music. And he wasn’t any tougher than Ward had been at that age.
As soon as Ricky’s mother, Lena, went off to check on something inside, Ricky leveled a serious stare at Ward.
Chest puffed out, full of protective belligerence, he said, “So you’re dating my cousin?”
“I suppose I am.”
“We don’t see Ana much, but we take care of our own. Don’t mess with her.”
For a second, Ward could only stare at Ricky in surprise. Ricky was all of about five feet four inches. And maybe just barely a hundred pounds. Yet here he was, ready to defend Ana’s honor.
Ward quirked an eyebrow and tried to keep his tone serious. “You’re warning me off?”
Ricky bumped his chin up, like he suspected Ward was making fun of him. “We take care of our own,” he repeated.
Yeah, Ward recognized that stubborn expression. It was more than mere family resemblance.
Nodding his understanding, Ward said, “She’s lucky to have you. I hope she knows just how lucky. I hope you do, too.”
He didn’t have any trouble with the sincerity of those words. No wonder Ricky was such a great kid—his inclination toward truancy aside. Whatever Ana’s family lacked in financial resources or social standing, they more than made up for with their open affection. He’d never been a part of a large family. After only a few hours in their company, he could feel himself getting drawn in by the comfort of their companionship.
He could easily imagine quickly becoming as attached to them as he now was to Ana herself.
Just then, he noticed Ana up on her toes, peering over the heads of others to catch his eye. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, the question written clearly on her face: Was he okay? Did he need rescuing?
He smiled and waved her away. She frowned and shuffled off. Instantly, he was sorry that he hadn’t called her over. He missed having her by his side. Just missed her.
And in that instant, he knew how completely he’d been fooling himself about his ability to maintain his emotional distance from her. He should have known that evening he’d caught her watching the television special on him. She’d pegged his crap so effectively. In that moment, she’d seen him more clearly than he’d ever seen himself. It had taken this long for him to even admit that she was right.
Hell, if that hadn’t clued him in to the fact that he was in serious trouble, last night at her house should have done the job. After they’d had sex, she’d calmly gotten up to get dressed and he’d damn near been in tears. If that wasn’t a sign of how deeply in over his head he was, he didn’t know what was. Add to that the fact that he was just about ready to start exchanging Christmas cards with her family, and he was completely screwed.
No. Forget that. He was just in love.
And it just sucked. Because she was so obviously not in love with him. Even if she thought she was now, she sure wouldn’t be for long. She’d pegged him on the crap about the Alvarez. She’d see through the rest of it soon enough.
If he was a stronger man, he might wait around for her to walk away on her own. But he didn’t think he’d survive her leaving him. Which meant it was time to quietly extract himself from her life.
Twelve
Once people started serving food, Ana gave up all pretense of maintaining a conversation with her aunt and went searching for Ward. She found him sitting on the cement block border that edged a flower bed. He sat with a plate carefully balanced on one knee, the dark waves of his hair shining in the dappled sun that filtered through the lemon tree. She sat down beside him with her own plate loaded with cabrito and charro beans.
She finished chewing her bite, then asked, “Has it been awful?”
“Not so bad.” He took another sip of his Dos Equis. “Humbling.”
“How so?” she asked, raising a glass of iced tea to sip.
“None of them know my music,” he explained with mock indignation. “Not one of them.”
She laughed, holding her hand to her mouth to keep from spewing her drink. Swallowing, she added, “Oh, you poor little famous boy.”
“Actually, it’s kind of nice. First time in decades I’ve gone to a party where no one knew who I was.”
“Oh, the women all know. Trust me. It’s been like a Senate hearing in there.” She stabbed her guacamole with a chip. “However, it is better than the last family get-together when I had to field thinly veiled questions about my sexuality from Aunt Celica, who just started watching Ellen and was convinced I was a lesbian.” She expected him to laugh at that. When he didn’t, she searched his face and found his expression oddly distant. “They’ve been okay, though? No one’s too pushy?”
“Not at all. I was surprised to see Ricky here.”
Now the boy stood in front of the food-laden picnic table. He was dressed much as he had been every other time she’d seen him. Like ninety-five percent of all American teenage boys, Ricky’s pants were too baggy and barely held on his h*ps by a belt. He wore a white tank top under an unbuttoned long-sleeve shirt. If he wasn’t in a gang already, he was trying very hard to look like he was.
Ana followed Ward’s gaze and frowned. “You know Ricky?”
“He’s the kid I’ve been mentoring.”
“My Ricky is that Ricky?”
He chewed for a minute and then explained, “I didn’t know you were related until just now.”
Ana stared at him, obviously surprised. “I had no idea Ricky had been to Hannah’s Hope.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out. You must think I’m a horrible aunt.”
“I think you’ve been pretty busy.” He nodded in Lena’s direction. “If she’s your cousin, why wouldn’t she come in herself? Why did her son have to manipulate her into coming?”
Ana’s gaze wandered over to where Lena stood by the back door. Despite the fact that she was only a few years older than Ana, age and weariness already lined her face.
“Lena and I aren’t exactly what you’d call close.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“You know all those stereotypes I told you my parents wanted me to avoid? Lena followed every damn one of them. Her father is my dad’s older brother. Her parents helped bring my parents over. Lena’s three years older than me. We lived two blocks away when we lived in L.A. She got pregnant at fifteen. That’s when my parents moved us to Vista del Mar. She never finished high school. She works hard, but barely scrapes by.” Not for the first time, she tried to imagine herself in Lena’s shoes. Tried and failed miserably. “And now, she’s worried about Ricky staying in school.”