Sofia and Marisol continue to talk

I pull out one of the stools, sitting down. It’s the first time I’ve really considered how I feel since what happened, happened. I also debate just how honest I want to be with Marisol. A part of me is concerned what she’ll tell the guy she’s been seeing, Jorge, since he works with Carlos. But this is Marisol. She’ll see through the lies anyway.

“Good,” I say quietly. “Really good, I think. It might be better than I’ve felt in… probably years. Other than how happy the boys make me, of course. Wow. I never realized that. How sad is that?” I say to myself when the realization hits me. “Anyway, last night wasn’t supposed to happen, but he’s sweet, Mari. He listens, and he never pushed for anything. It was all me. He doesn’t act entitled, or treat me like I owe him anything. He just…” I sigh, trying to figure out what I’m trying to say.

Marisol leans her hip against the counter, waving her arms for me to stop. “Wait, wait, wait. Back up,” Marisol says, cutting me off while I’m thinking. “He just turned twenty-one. And you’ve already made it clear that you like them… grande. You told me that’s why you went out with Carlos. But how did last night happen? Especially you, of all people. I never would’ve guessed it. So how does a night that was supposed to be ‘thanks for being a nice guy and have a good birthday’ turn into me walking in on him naked in your kitchen?”

I blush and think back to the night before and how sweet he had been.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I admit, staring down at the counter. “At first it was just… compliments. Little things he said, or the way he looked at me. Not the gross kind of things guys his age say, hoping to get laid. Real ones. He’d notice things. Or that I laughed at something stupid his friend said. Nothing he ever said felt like there was a motive. It was just… him noticing me in ways Carlos never seems to.”

Marisol tilts her head, listening.

“And then at some point…” I pause, choosing my words. “I tried to do the responsible thing. I told him he should find someone his own age. I even tried to help him find someone who could give him normal. I literally tried to be his wing-woman and pointed out girls I thought he could date. And he just… looked at me like I was the only person in the room. Like there wasn’t anyone else worth looking at. He didn’t even pretend to play along. I don’t remember his exact words, but what I heard was something like, ‘Why would I want that when you’re right here?’ And I swear, Mari, the way he said whatever he said, it wasn’t a line. It was honest. Like he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else.”

I let out a small, shaky laugh. “A part of me last night seemed to realize I’ve spent so long feeling invisible and just never knew it. Or like I was only good for what I can do for other people. And this kid– this twenty-one-year-old delivery guy looked at me like I was the most interesting, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And he kept saying it. Over and over. Not just with words, but with the way he touched me or simply looked at me. Like he couldn’t get enough. Like I was enough, just as I am.”

“Then, once things started to get away from me, he sort of let me set the pace with everything. Even today. When I told him the boys will always come first, and that I can’t promise anything regular because of Carlos and everything going on, he didn’t argue. Actually, he thought I was telling him it was all a mistake and that I won’t see him anymore. So when I told him that’s not it, he just said he’d take whatever I could give.”

Marisol studies my face with a hint of confusion. “Hold on. I get why last night happened now, but you’re actually planning on seeing him some more? What about the age difference? Or the whole ‘he delivers food for a living’ thing? You’re not worried about how that looks? What our family would think of him? What am I saying– aside from all that, what happens if Carlos ever finds out?”

I shrug, but it feels tight. “Carlos doesn’t get a vote in my happiness anymore. He lost that when I found out he was sleeping around. And yeah, Jay’s younger. And yeah, his job isn’t glamorous. But he’s kind. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than me. And–” I lower my voice even more as the warmth starts to speak up a little bit more again “–he’s incredible in bed. Like, stupid good. I forgot what it felt like to be wanted that much.”

Marisol fans herself again, but the look she gives me isn’t quite as teasing as it has been. “Yeah, well, I saw what he was dragging between his legs. That thing was impressive even when it was just… limp and hanging out in your kitchen. But the real question is: is he just a shower or a grower too?” She grins salaciously, then sobers and stops herself. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know. But seriously, Sof. What are you doing? Is this just fun? A way to feel alive again? Look at how young he is. Aren’t you worried he’s just around because of the money?”

I look down at the glass of water, then take another drink. “To answer the first question, even if you don’t want to know, both” I say with a grin and she drops her face into her hands. “And he thinks all of the money is Carlos’s. So if he wanted money out of this, I’m guessing sleeping with the man’s wife, probably wouldn’t be how he goes about it,” I say with a little chuckle, shaking my head. Even I can’t believe I just referred to a twenty-one-year-old, sleeping with me as a married woman.

“As for the rest, I don’t know yet,” I admit. “I like him a lot. More than I probably should. But it also just kind of happened. I’m not ready to upend my whole life over it. The boys need stability and I need to figure out my marriage. That means I’ve got to figure out the finances first. Even if the kids weren’t a part of the equation, which of course they’re a huge part of it, it’s not like he’d just be out of my life if I divorced him. He’s still a VP in our family’s company. And you know that’s probably only because he’s married to me. Father wouldn’t have kept him around otherwise. So what happens to him if Dad finds out why I kicked him out? I still need him to be able to be a father to Mateo and Julian.” It all gushes out and it’s my turn to bury my face in my hands, fighting back a wave of tears. “What the hell am I doing? I just want to feel good. Is that selfish?”

She reaches out and pulls me off the stool into a tight hug. “No. It’s not selfish. You’ve been carrying that… esa mierda for years. If this kid makes you smile and cum so hard you forget your own name for a minute, then keep him around. Just be careful and protect your heart. And maybe invest in some blackout tint for the Range Rover.”

I laugh into her shoulder, feeling the tension in my chest want to loosen a touch. “Noted.”

She pulls back, smirking again. “Ugh,” she grunts, sounding disgusted. “Who would’ve thought my big sister was such a putita.”

“Stop,” I laugh, swatting her arm. “You’re awful. I am not a little whore.”

She laughs and winks, turning back to her bottle and shaking her head. “I don’t know. After what you told me you did in the car, I’m starting to wonder.”

“Oh God. I’m pretty sure a girl saw us too. And Jay didn’t say it directly, but he said enough that I’m guessing she must work in the office,” I laugh, only slightly embarrassed at this point since she doesn’t know me.

Marisol’s eyes go wide. “Sofía!”

“I know,” I groan, letting the rest of my hair fall free of the bun and shaking it out. “I know!”

She bursts out laughing, and it’s so loud and bright that it’s impossible not to join in on. “You are out of control.”

“Maybe I am,” I mutter, but I’m smiling. “But I think I’ve earned it.”

She nudges me with her hip. “Okay, scandalous queen. Let me give you a crash course with this type of stuff. The first rule is, deny everything. Second rule, if you’re going to do something like that, park somewhere with less foot traffic. Third rule, maybe stop hooking up like a teenager in broad daylight in the first place.” She says it all with an expression like this is all common sense. From her, it’s endearing.

“I will absolutely not be taking advice from someone who once got caught in Abuela’s laundry room,” I respond with a laugh.

“That was one time,” she says defensively, then points at me. “And I was nineteen. You are a mother of two.”

“It was my boyfriend!” I shoot back.

“Whatever,” Marisol smirks, “You were done with him anyway.”

The reminder settles between us. It was years ago, and we’ve long since gotten over it, now using it as a way to tease the other.

“Why do you even have rules like this?” I ask suddenly.

This time it’s her turn to blush, finishing her bottle of juice. Ignoring the question, she turns away from me and throws the bottle in the recycling. At that time, my phone buzzes on the counter. I glance down at the screen, and my stomach flips a little when I see his name.

Marisol sees my face change immediately. “Oh no,” she says, grinning. “That look. That’s the look of a woman who still needs more vitamin ‘D.’”

“Shut up,” I whisper, reaching for the phone.

She heads back to the boys, grinning at me over her shoulder. “Just remember the rules. Aside from that, have your fun, figure out your life, and don’t let anybody make decisions for you ever again.”

I nod, more to myself than to her. For the first time in years, the chaos in my life isn’t just the chaos of being a mother, but feels like something I chose. And as I unlock my phone, my heart races a little bit. I know Mari is right in her questions, and that this probably can’t go on long-term. But it doesn’t mean the two of us can’t have fun for a while.

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