26. Chapter 26

A/N: If I post it by midnight it's technically up on the 6th, right? Right?

I've edited a lot these past few weeks. Nothing plot-wise has changed, mostly spelling, grammar, a minor timeline fix, and a few more details were added to the last chapter, toward the end, that I think will prepare you more for Bruno's anxiety in this chapter, so you might want to re-read the last third or so of that chapter before you read this one. Hope you all had a great few weeks and enjoy this chapter. :)

Bruno held her there in the courtyard of Casita, her head on his shoulder, his heart racing.

He'd been so shocked when she burst through Casita's doors, breathless and apologizing and confessing she realized she'd loved him – he was caught up in amazement and disbelief that she felt that way about him.

And then she'd kissed him, and he'd kissed her back, and it was glorious and overwhelming, and -

He wasn't expecting it.

In fact, he was expecting the opposite.

And now that his brain, which had been blissfully blank for the past who-knows-how-many minutes, had settled and caught up with the rest of him, his thoughts circled back around to what had kept him awake most of the night and away from his familia and mass and…people, this morning. He'd pretended to still be asleep when Mirabel knocked on his door for breakfast, and the guilt of that small act of ignoring her was still eating him up when he made his coffee this morning.

All night, he was anticipating a conversation that he was sure would come the next time he saw Lucía – a conversation that became more and more bleak the more it played out in his mind. He'd expected her to let him down – at first gently, then more firmly, until when he finally slept, he'd had nightmares of her rescinding even her friendship because falling in love with the first person outside of your family that showed you any kindness was pathetic - and hadn't her running away last night proved what she thought about that?

He'd thought she was just too nice to tell him that so bluntly. And then she'd shown up bursting through his front door asking to talk and he thought he'd lost her; he thought he'd ruined everything again.

And then - her exuberant, emphatic proclamation that she loved him had briefly pushed all thoughts of his unworthiness to the side, but they returned again, shouting all the louder over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Last night was hard.

Last night was so hard.

He loved her so much that he didn't know if he could accept her – accept being with her - without being honest about all the things he still struggled with, all the ghosts of his past that had come back to haunt him last night. It felt – selfish. He'd been so good with things, the past few months. Things were better – so much better. With his family, with his gift, with him. He was better. He was alright. But…he'd been 'alright' before he left Mirabel, too.

And his reaction, last night and this morning, to Lucía's perceived slight proved that he wasn't as 'alright' as he wanted to be.

Lucía didn't know….

She didn't know broken he still was.

It was one thing for her to love the him that she'd seen the past few weeks.

It was another thing entirely for her to love the him that he was when he was at his worst.

Lucía would have been quite content to stand there the rest of the day in Bruno's arms, feeling his heartbeat against her palm. Her fingers were splayed across his chest, her other arm wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder –feeling the gentle stroke of his hand along her arm, along her shoulder, along her back; the other hand firmly planted on her waist, the tips of his fingers a warm and reassuring weight.

She breathed - in and out, in and out – her eyes fluttering closed, reveling in the singular and yet all-encompassing feeling of loving him and knowing she was loved in return.

Occasionally, his fingers would still, and he would tighten his grip on her slightly, as whatever he was thinking about made his breath hitch – in fear or in wonder, she wasn't sure – but she let him think. She let him process, until the soothing, rhythmic back-and-forth stroke of her thumb across his chest brought him back to her and he would press his cheek to her hair.

"Bruno," she said, after his third bout of freezing and slowly melting into reality again. "Are you okay?"

He stilled and sighed. "I'm – I – I need – to - " Bruno's lips twitched downward and his eyes darted away from her. "Are you sure about…this? Me? Us? I - " He swallowed as some other silent thought overtook him, and he inhaled suddenly as his arms fell to his sides.

Her smile fell away and her heart ached for him. And then a sudden spike of fear and anger cut through her - fear that he might back out – that despite the fact that they both loved each other, he might desire the stability of their friendship over the unknown potential of a romantic relationship together. And anger – anger that he'd been hurt so thoroughly and had experienced so much rejection in his lifetime that he wasn't able to conceive of someone choosing to love him for any prolonged length of time.

"Of course I'm sure."

She held him at arms length, searching his face.

His smile at her words was half-hearted and weak.

He wanted to believe her…

…but she wasn't sure he did.

"Bruno Madrigal." Lucía said, her voice low and serious, catching his eyes and holding them with hers. "Come sit with me."

She guided him back to the bench and they sat. She turned toward him, their knees touching. She held one of his hands, pressed between both of hers. She craved the contact with him – it was an anchor that gave her the courage to finish measuring out the new parameters of what they were – whatever they were. "Tell me what you're thinking. What's wrong."

"Lucía," he breathed. He sighed and looked away, pulling his hand from hers. It stung a little – it felt like rejection, but she tried not to let it. He'd just told her he loved her. But – she had kind of – thrown herself at him. She felt her cheeks grow warm. Maybe – maybe she'd been – a little – a little – much.

"Lo siento," she said softly. "Was it – was it too fast? If you need time - "

"Time," he snorted, rubbing his hand across his face.

She sat and waited while he worked out what he wanted to say.

"You know," he said softly, "Last night – I thought about – about you. I thought about a lot of things. One – one of them was - if I hadn't brought Mirabel home – if I hadn't gone and found her, if you hadn't let me borrow that horse – things – things would be so different. Everything would be different. In the worst possible way. Would I have even come home, if I hadn't been able to bring her back? Or would I have just – disappeared?"

Ah. This wasn't about her at all. Not really.

It was about him.

Lucía sat very still beside him. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to pull him close and reassure him, but – he had pulled away. She knew he was sharing something messy and real, a piece of his broken heart. So maybe the best thing she could do was just to listen without interrupting, without attempting to stop or diminish his pain.

It's what she'd done for Papá, when Mamá died. It's what Sofia and Papá did for her, when Alejandro died. It was the least she could do for Bruno.

"And – I don't know. If I hadn't found her, I – I don't know if I could have faced my family again. At least I'd done one good thing, right? 'Hey, guys, I left you for ten years but not really, kinda lied about the whole 'being gone' thing, but hey, at least here's Mirabel' - and I - " he gasped and ran his hands across his face, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He kept his face in his hands, his fingers rubbing across his temple. "I gave her a vision, and the house collapsed, and they all lost – everything; everything – everything – was gone." He looked up, and his expression was haunted.

"She tried to save the miracle. I got out – I got out of the house and I looked up at her and everything was falling apart and there she was, still inside, still trying to reach that stupid candle. I couldn't move. I couldn't move! I - I was terrified that I'd caused it, that I'd told her she could save the miracle, that there was a chance me – everything – all I'd ever done to protect her – was pointless, because when it mattered, I couldn't even stop her from trying to sacrifice herself! I thought – maybe – the whole reason she even considered it – was – because – I told her – she could."

Bruno stood and paced, back and forth, back and forth before Lucía, all of his feelings about Mirabel finding his broken vision, finding him, Casita's collapse, searching for Mirabel, realizing how broken his family was, and how he was still coming to terms with it, despite how far they'd come – how he still had nightmares about it, still felt guilty over it, though he'd discussed it with his hermanas multiple times, and with his madre, and they'd absolved him of all blame. They listened and reassured him and so why wasn't it enough? Why couldn't he let it go?

It all came spilling out. His hands trembled as he pleaded, cajoled, gestured at the ghosts of his past that only he could see. Ghosts he was attempting to describe to her, even as he was visibly fighting off the sense of despair they brought as they crowded around him. And that had only been the end of his living in the walls.

When he'd finished, he paused in front of her, his chest heaving and his hands threaded through the hair on the top of his head. His face was twisted into an expression that was raw and painful. Lucía sat straight and still on the bench, her hands in her lap, watching him with soft and wide-open eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he blinked and noticed her expression. He allowed his hands to fall to his side, and his chin dropped to his chest, hiding his face from her.

She stood and stepped forward and slowly pressed herself against him, wrapping her arms fully around him and burying her fingers in the fabric of his ruana, behind his shoulders. When he didn't resist, she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, her lips pressed against his skin. She could feel the staccato beat of his heart there. He smelled of coffee and soap and lately, too, like that faint smell of warm sand and of burning leaves as well - his own personal incense. She breathed deeply, taking him in, and he shivered slightly. He held her, but it was – tense, as if he held himself back. As if he were preparing to let go.

She pressed a kiss to the soft skin of his neck and drew back.

He still stared at the ground. "I'm not – I'm not – I just – I – think – these – these past few months – they've been – the best of my life. Because – because of Mirabel, because of my family, and because – because of you. Working on the – on the story, having the courage to – to - to have visions again, Josefina, dancing, enjoying – enjoying food and music and sharing telenovelas - but – I don't – I don't think - " he took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't think you'd love the man I was, before. And – it's still – I'm afraid – I'm still that man, inside."

Oh.

She could scarcely breathe.

"I feel like – I'm – I'm a fraud. I'm – I've felt so happy, and so good, but it feels – borrowed. Like I'm – pretending, sometimes. Living someone else's life? I love you and I want you - - you're – you've been everywhere in my life these past few months and of course I want to keep you there – I want to keep you here."

He sat down again and leaned back on the bench, letting his head fall back and staring at the air above him.

Lucía stared at him for a moment before she sat down beside him again and tentatively reached for him, latching on to the fringe of his ruana and rubbing it between her fingers.

"And I'm stupid! I've – I love you and I've – I want you, I've wanted you for weeks! But now that it's a possibility, I'm afraid. Who needs that?" he whispered bitterly. "And it - it feels selfish to want you this much. Because I'm different, and I've been – so much happier, lately - but I'm also – I'm still – I'm still the man I was, hiding in the walls for ten years. When you – when you left, last night…my first instinct wasn't to go after you, to seek you out and explain or apologize or fix things…it was…it was to hide. Again."

Lucía kept rubbing the fabric of his ruana between her fingers, her expression somber and far away as she thought.

She'd thought about this at length, last night. She might feel like a teenager in love again, but she'd lived through love and loss before, and it had made her painfully aware of what it could cost. She had no desire to make herself or Bruno ever live through such a loss, if she could help it.

But there was always risk in love.

And being with a Madrigal carried its own special set of risks.

There was the risk of being in the spotlight of scrutiny – of both the Madrigals themselves (particularly Alma, though she seemed to have become less intimidating since Casita fell), and of the people in the village.

There was the risk of people ostracizing her – and Josefina – if Bruno was blamed for something he saw in his visions.

There was the risk of people attempting to manipulate her or Josefina or any member of her family, in order to gain favor with the Madrigals.

And then – there was the risk of watching the man she loved bear burdens and responsibilities that were heavier and harder than most, and the sharp sting of knowing there were some things she would never be able to help him carry.

That last one was perhaps the most difficult of all the risks to reconcile. External threats were easy to unite against. Internal? Not so much.

But she was prepared. Her eyes and her heart were wide open, and she was ready to take those risks. It was worth it.

She just hoped he believed it was worth it.

After a moment, her hand stilled.

He turned his head to look at her, but his eyes dropped away after only a moment and he sighed, ashamed.

"Thank you for trusting me with that. But it doesn't change how I feel," Lucía whispered. "I still love you."

He didn't respond.

After a moment, she took a deep breath. "Can I – can I share something with you? Something – something I don't like about - myself? About my past?"

His eyes flew back up to her face. He gave a barely perceptible nod, as though in disbelief there was anything she'd done that could possibly compare.

"When Alejandro died, I was not a good mother."

His brow furrowed.

"I wasn't. And I didn't – it was hard because I didn't expect it to – to affect me so badly. I mean – of course I – I never wanted to imagine such a thing happening, but I'd already lost my madre and – I was the strong one, through that. I was the one who helped Sofia and Papá through it all. So when – after Alejandro's funeral, when I fell apart - " her voice broke, and she huffed, trying to keep it even. "I – I wasn't expecting to fall apart. I went to bed when we got home and I – I didn't get up again for a month. Sofia had to force me to shower. I'd hear Josefina crying, and I couldn't – I could not bring myself to move. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like I was the one buried under a pile of rocks, listening to my daughter cry until my father or my sister or Lorenzo or Ana or Raquel – or – even – I know Camilo, at one point - and - and – who knows who else - "

She blinked rapidly and pulled her legs up onto the bench, folding her knees up and wrapping her arms around them and turning to face Bruno. She rested the side of her head on the back of the bench, and he shifted to mirror her position. They sat curled up on the bench, facing each other, close but not touching. "I wasn't a good mother, Bruno. For months afterward. I wasn't a good mother, I wasn't a good friend, I wasn't a good – anything. I was numb and empty and then later I was angry, and I couldn't even – the only prayers I could muster were – were - "

She closed her eyes and swallowed, and tears welled up and spilled down her cheek. " –I was so - afraid, and angry – at God and at Alejandro, and I felt alone, and I – I – I failed her. I failed my baby, Bruno. For an entire month, I failed her."

Bruno was frozen. Lucía didn't want to look him in the eye until he slowly lifted his hand and pressed the pad of his thumb to one of the teardrops on her skin, gently wiping it from her cheek. She pressed her hand to his, keeping him there, touching her.

Her mouth twisted downward. "I'm ashamed of how I was, of – of the choices I made, back then. Or the choices I didn't make, the things I didn't do, for Josefina. I felt so – so – suffocated, by myself, by my own thoughts. And I'm better – I'm better now – not perfectly who I was, before, but – stronger and better. That doesn't change the fact I have – pieces of me, things I've done and left undone that I'm not proud of. But – I've forgiven myself. Something horrible happened and I didn't respond well at all and I forgive myself for that. Well – I'm trying, anyway. Bruno, it sounds like you've forgiven - or are working on forgiving - your family for their part in all of this - but - you're allowed to forgive yourself for the things you regret. You know that, right?" She carefully examined his expression.

He swallowed.

"I'm only who I am now because I had – so much help, Bruno. I had my family, and I never doubted they loved me, and I can't imagine – trying to heal, trying to survive without their support." She looked at him, her eyes wide, and drew in a long, shuddering breath. "You think you're so weak because you still feel broken? That it somehow makes you less worthy, less desirable? Bruno, you survived and you're – you're stronger than I ever was, because you did it alone."

She sat up straighter and squared her shoulders and frowned, shifting his hand from her cheek to press it between both of hers again. "But you shouldn't have had to do it alone, and you're not alone now, and I don't want you to be alone, ever again." She paused. "I know I've been an idiot the past few weeks, and I'm sorry if my obliviousness before or the – the clumsiness of my confession is making you doubt the certainty of my feelings now. I am very sure I love you. If it makes you feel better, I've known that I love you – adore you – for a while, now. It was the – the attraction that took me a while to see."

Lucía cast her eyes downward, attempting to blink away her embarrassment. "And I'm obviously attracted to you. Cielo santo, I've been so blind. But I'm not blind to it now," she reassured him, looking back up to him, her expression earnest and searching. "I love you. I know you've had a hard life, and I – I'm grateful you've trusted me enough to share what you have, today. I know I still don't know the whole story; everything you've gone through. I know there are still hard things you struggle with, from the past and from the present. There are things you might struggle with your entire life. But I'm not afraid of that. I won't try to chase away or ignore the hard parts of you – the parts that are bitter or ugly or sharp or heavy. I won't run from your suffering. I love you."

She was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts, and then she continued, her voice low and measured and even.

"I love the man who suffered alone in the walls of his home for a decade in a last-ditch effort to protect his sobrina as much as I love the man who thanked Itziar for helping him bring her home. I love the man who habitually tosses salt and sugar over his shoulder to ward off bad luck as much as I love the man who helped me finish a story I'd been working on for half my life. I love the man who refused to dance with my daughter the night his gift returned because he was anxious and overwhelmed, as much as I love the man who carried her through the jungle and danced with her at the festival. I love the man who sees bad things happen as much as I love the man who sees good things happen, because it's much harder and takes so much more strength to tell the truth when the truth is ugly and sad. I know I am very sure that I would very much like to – to - be with you, to know you more and love you in whatever way you are comfortable with."

Bruno stared at her, his expression unreadable and his eyes bright with unshed tears. Lucía leaned forward slowly and, when he did not back away, pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. She went to pull away, but he moved his trembling hand to the back of her neck, keeping her close, and so she rested her forehead on his and closed her eyes. "When I tell you I love you," she whispered, "I don't mean – I'll love you until I stop loving you because it will get messy and hard. I know love, and life, and all the different parts of it are messy and hard, and it's not just me who will have to do the messy and hard things. You will have to deal with my mess, too. You have already dealt with my mess, too. You don't – you don't have to fix yourself before we can be together. But – if you feel like – you need more time – that's okay, too. What I mean is – I will continue loving you – I choose to love you, even when it is hard, because I believe it is worth it. You are worth it. My love is not conditional."

He kissed her, so abruptly and intensely it almost hurt. When he pulled away, he moved his forehead to her shoulder, and just rested there for a moment, collecting himself.

"What do I even say to that?" He muttered. "I'm a mess - "

"So am I."

He snorted. "If you're a mess, I'm a disaster."

"I'd like you to be my disaster."

"You're sure about this."

"I'm sure. And - " she bit her lip, her hands twisting in her lap. He sat up. "And I know what I want, but it's okay - if you - if this wasn't what you expected or wanted or you're afraid – I – I – I'll respect what you want." She looked up at him, the corners of her eyes creased with concern and her mouth turned downward. "I know I kind of – it was – it happened so fast. And I'm sure I want to try this, but if – if you're not – then you're right. We need to agree on what we are. For all our sakes, including Josefina. I can be your friend, I can be – more. I want to be so much more. But I can't just - guess at what you want." Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away. "I really want to be what you want," she whispered.

He hesitantly closed the distance between them and kissed her, slowly and carefully. One hand settled on her waist, the other traced her jaw, the shell of her ear, the back of her neck. His trembling fingertips branded her with their heat, and she longed for them to hold her, to pull her close.

"Oh, Lucía," he breathed against her mouth, sharing the same breath, the same air. "You're exactly what I want. Being with you – you're exactly what I want."

She slouched into him, scooting as close to him as possible, wriggling one arm between him and the bench so she could pull herself even closer. She rested her head on his shoulder and moved her legs closer, nearly in his lap, moving part of his ruana to cover her as well. She tucked her other hand up under his ruana, over his heart, her fingers rasping absent-mindedly over the buttons of his shirt. He drew in a sharp breath at the intimacy of her position and instinctively curled toward her. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer - if she could even be any closer – and he closed his eyes and rested his head on hers.

After a moment, Bruno sighed again. "Lo siento," he murmured into her hair. "For being so – so - "

"So human?"

"-so insecure." They spoke at the same time.

Lucía raised an eyebrow at him. "You're forgiven," she said flatly. "For being human."

"I love you," Bruno said solemnly.

"I love you, too." They sat holding each other for a long moment.

Bruno kept telling her he loved her, and she kept telling him right back that she loved him too.

After a while, Lucía let out a little snort of amusement. "Josefina asked me last night if we were in love."

Bruno pulled away slightly and his mouth pulled up in one corner "She – she – she what now?"

"She's…very observant. And – she already loves you very much," she said, pride and affection spreading across her face.

Bruno smiled in return. "I love that kid, too."

"I know. And that's one of the many reasons I love you so much. And it's also why - " she let out a small huff of frustration. "I – I would like to define what we are, before – before mass lets out and she comes here in all her curious, suspicious, observant glory. Are you – are you - comfortable calling this courting? I know that's – a little – old fashioned, now. Novio y novia? Just – dating, seeing where this goes? I don't want to pressure you into anything, it's fine if you need time to think, I just want to be able to tell Josefina something – but - "

Are you comfortable calling this courting?

He froze.

Courting.

If he was being honest, all his longing before had been centered around simply having his feelings returned. Being loved and accepted. Being free to express his feelings for her unreservedly.

He'd always wanted what his sisters had, but he'd never allowed himself to dream beyond simply being loved.

Of course feelings like theirs, when mutual, led to courtship. And courtship…

His heart leapt and clung to that thought – that's what he wanted. He wanted what his sisters had and with Lucía – with Lucía it was possible - because she saw him and she loved him and Lord help him, after that little speech of hers today he would love that woman for the rest of his life –

Well, look at that. He really was swallowed.

Another deluge of overwhelming emotions crashed over him and he was drowning in a sea of fear and hope; longing and restraint, desire and affection and sheer terror at the intensity of it all.

He pressed his eyes closed and released her suddenly; pushing her away and scooting sideways along the bench they sat on. His elbow hit the cup of coffee on the table beside him and he heard it clatter to the floor, but he couldn't see it to stop it - the familiar insistent warmth of his power welled up behind his eyes and cut off his awareness of what was going on around him.

He saw everything in the familiar muted greens of his visions.

Lucía, leaning back on her hands, her bare feet in a stream and her skirt pulled up above her knees, her face turned to the sky and her mouth twisted into a frown.

A pudgy baby, mouth open in a little yawn, in the arms of someone with joints swollen and skin spotted with age.

Himself – Bruno – on top of Lucía's prone form, their noses almost touching, his arms locked straight, his palms flat on the ground beside her, his eyes wide and panicked and a bemused, half-lidded smirk on her face.

Lucía, her brows drawn together in concentration, unwrapping a type-writer at what appeared to be some sort of party – her birthday? - her mouth open and her eyes welling up with tears.

Himself, again – one hand on handlebars, the other on the back seat of a bicycle, his face frozen in panic; Josefina's face pinched in determined concentration as she attempted to ride it.

Josefina crying into Bruno's shoulder.

Dolores, pregnant, pressing Lucía's hands onto her round stomach, their smiles wide and their foreheads pressed together.

The vision faded and Bruno was left sprawled across the bench, his chest heaving. He was propped up on one elbow, the other arm thrown across the back of the bench, one foot on the bench and the other on the ground, as he blinked at a very startled Lucía.

His mouth slowly lifted into a disbelieving half-smile. "Heh," he panted.

She leaned forward over him, planting her hands on the bench on either side of his waist. "Are you okay? Are you - " she cut herself off. "Can you tell me about it? Is it okay – if I ask about them, now?"

He blinked, suddenly very aware of her position over him.

He nodded. "It was – good? I think? There – there was you – and me – and –and - " he stopped himself before he told her about the typewriter; he knew better than to spoil a gift – " – and – a baby - "

Lucía's eyes widened and she pulled back slightly in shock.

"Not ours! Not yours! Not – not - " His voice cracked. "Not – I don't think it - I think – I think it was – Dolores'?"

A crooked smile spread across her face.

His smile grew as well, and a sudden thought hit him. "I – I don't usually – I don't ever look into my future, not on purpose – but – this, I think - do you – do you want to see? What I just saw?"

Her face was radiant. "Can I?"

Bruno nodded and righted himself, springing up and pulling her along with him.

"You're gonna love this."

They took the stairs two at a time, and they were both panting by the time they reached the top of the stairs to his vision room.

He pushed the door open and this time – this time, her reaction was everything he'd hoped it would be.

She grinned and turned around, slowly. She crouched down by the canal, dipping her fingers into the cool, running water and then gently touching the petals of the flowers growing beside the stone path.

"This is beautiful. I know I didn't tell you before, because of – everything – but – this is beautiful, Bruno. You are beautiful." She looked up at him, her gaze sober and her voice low and intense.

His heart stuttered at the expression on her face, and - in that moment – he believed her.

It could take him awhile to get used to that.

If he ever did.

He held out his hand. "Come see," he whispered.

She took his hand and they walked into the vision circle, together.

She watched him make the small piles of sand, and place the leaves and light them, all with quiet interest.

"Do you have to do that? In order to show other people your visions?"

Bruno paused. "It makes it easier to see, yes. I can see – whatever, on my own. But to show other people, to make the tablets? Yeah – the sand, and the leaves, and the smoke – it's necessary."

He held out his hands, and warned her. "I'll try to keep you from seeing one part of the vision. It shows what you're going to get for – for your birthday, or for Christmas. A gift, anyway."

"Somehow, even if I see it, I think I'll survive." She grinned and placed her hands in his.

He accessed his power, and it washed over him, making him giddy with delight. He felt like his heart was glowing right along with his eyes. "Look!"

The images had barely begun to form, and he pulled her up, grasping her hand firmly in his.

There it was, again – Lucía, with her bare feet in the stream, the baby, and then himself, over her –

"Oooh, so scandalous," she teased.

He paused, not quite sure at how to respond – should he apologize? For something he hadn't even done yet? Something that was probably going to be an accident, based on his expression, but he wasn't going to go poking around to find out – but then she leaned against him and whispered in his ear – "I can't wait for that one to come true."

He shivered and turned his head toward her, grinning at her in disbelief.

Once she decided she was into him, she didn't pull any punches.

He loved it.

The sands shifted and another image began to form, and suddenly – Bruno was covering her eyes, his free hand gently but firmly in place as she tried to brush it off. "No peeking," he whispered against her ear, and she stilled and smiled. "It's your present."

She waited patiently for that image to pass, and then he released her, feeling a little lightheaded, a little drunk at their exchange.

He was flirting. Was this flirting? Were they flirting? On purpose? He wrote it into his telenovelas all the time but living it out was something else entirely. He wanted to kiss her again but he'd have to wait -

The next image – Josefina on a bicycle – had Lucía laughing out loud with joy. "Oh my word she's getting a bicycle? Don't you dare tell her or she'll be insufferable for a month!"

Bruno chuckled, too, and then – there was Josefina crying into his shoulder.

Bruno frowned, and the image froze there. "Do you – do you – want me to look - "

"And see why she's crying?" Lucía asked.

He nodded.

"No."

He blinked. "Are you sure?"

Lucía nodded firmly. "I'm sure."

Bruno hesitated.

"She's six. She cries over a lot of things. I cry over a lot of things. I'm – I'm actually a big cry-baby, really." She leaned against him again, resting her head on his shoulder. "And I think – I think the point of this – it isn't to keep Josefina from crying. It's – to show us that – you're the one comforting her. She trusts you. She loves you. That image right there?" She squeezed his hand. "That's my favorite one out of all of them."

When the image still didn't move, she lifted her head to look at him.

He was staring at her again, wind whipping his curls across his solemn face, his eyes glowing with a supernatural fire.

The image moved on but she paid no attention to it. She was entirely focused on him.

And then he released her hand and the sands fell away and a tablet formed and clattered to the ground. He blinked, and the green light in his eyes faded but the fire remained. She'd never seen him like this, before – but he was smoldering. His hands were on her waist and she could feel the heat of his fingertips there, branding her – and his face was close, so close again – but he hovered there, over her mouth, waiting for something – permission, maybe? –

And she closed her eyes and rocked forward and met him, and his kiss was wet and hungry and not at all graceful but it left her more breathless than any of the previous ones.

"Courtship," he said, and his voice was so low and husky it made her shiver. "Courtship is fine with me."

As soon as Pepa heard Dolores quietly invite Señor Hernandez and Josefina to Casita after mass with a strange look on her face, she had stalked off in the direction of home. Her long legs made it difficult for anyone else in the family to keep up with her, except for perhaps Antonio on his jaguar – but his jaguar was not allowed inside the church.

The capybara was another story entirely.

Of all the things Pepa Madrigal was expecting when she burst into the doors of Casita and spun around looking for her brother and his - whatever she was - a broken coffee cup with coffee splattered all over the floor and no people was not what she expected.

"Bruno? Lucía?!" She thundered – literally, crossing her arms and tapping her foot on the ground.

Bruno and Lucía both appeared over the balcony railing, looking embarrassed and moving quickly to the top of the stairs. When Lucía had fixed her hair and brushed sand out of her skirt, she turned to Bruno, who was still brushing himself out. She helped him adjust the ruana around his collar and then straightened that, too, her expression warm and her hands lingering there on his shoulders for a moment, afterward.

Bruno's expression softened and he tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, flicking a piece of grass from her hair as he did so.

Pepa's posture relaxed slightly and the cloud above her lightened. This was a new development.

The rest of her family tumbled in behind her, along with Mariano and his madre, Josefina, and Señor Hernandez. Bruno and Lucía gave each other a shy smile as they stood, together, and stepped lightly down the stairs, Casita helping them along by inclining the steps slightly until they were nearly sliding down them.

They murmured soft greetings to everyone when they'd reached the bottom, and then there was an awkward silence.

"Mamá," Josefina said, breaking it. "Why do you have a twig in your hair?" She looked her up and down. "And grass on your skirt? And – sand -?"

Bruno gave Lucía a sheepish grin. "Must've – must've missed some," he mumbled apologetically. She shrugged and grinned back.

Camilo whistled. "Dang, Tío. You might have started slow, but once you get going you move fast."

"Camilo Madrigal!" Pepa and Félix yelled in tandem, as Lucía ducked her head and tried not to laugh, her eyes wide with shock. Bruno turned bright red.

"N-n-no, it wasn't – it – it's not - " he stammered.

Josefina and Antonio looked at each other, confused.

"He's not moving fast." Josefina whispered.

Antonio frowned. "He's not even moving at all."

"Mi amorita," Lucía began softly.

After Camilo's comment, Lucía had asked for a moment to speak with her daughter, in private. The Madrigal adults and teens had given each other excited, knowing looks, but before anyone else could say anything, Pepa and Julieta herded them all to the kitchen to help with lunch. Her father had raised an eyebrow and given her a small smile over the glasses perched on his nose, before following.

Lucía sat with Josefina on the bench she'd been sitting on with Bruno. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, but one look at her daughter's wide-eyed, innocent expression gave her the courage to continue. "Do you remember what you asked me last night? When I was tucking you into bed?"

Josefina puffed out her cheek and thought for a moment. "If…you were in love with Don Bruno?"

Lucía nodded.

Josefina scrunched her nose in suspicion. "I thought you said you weren't?"

Lucía took a deep breath. "I did. And I'm sorry. Because it – it wasn't true."

She waited expectantly, but Josefina still just looked confused. "Did you lie?"

Lucía grimaced. "Sort of. And I'm sorry about that. I didn't do it to mislead you. But before I told you I loved him, I – last night, I needed time to think about how I felt about Bruno. And once I thought about it, I realized I did love Bruno. A lot."

Josefina blinked. "Like – in love love?"

Lucía nodded, and she smiled a little. "Sí. I'm in love with him. I like him a lot," she whispered in confession.

Josefina smiled back. "I like him too," she whispered back.

Lucía sat back. "I'm glad to hear that, because – we're together – we're courting, now." She watched Josefina carefully.

"So are you…you know…" Josefina asked, wide eyed.

"Are we what?"

"…kissing?" She giggled.

Lucía laughed softly. "Would it bother you if we did?"

Josefina thought about it for a minute. "No. I'll still get to see him, too, right? And he'd still dance with me, right?"

"Sí. You'll probably actually see more of him now. And you'll have to ask him, but I think he enjoyed dancing with you last night. I think he'd enjoy dancing with you again."

"And I'd still get to see his rats and play with Antonio and we'll still have Abuelo, right? We're not leaving him alone?"

Lucía blinked. "Of – of course you'll still see the Madrigals. You'll still see all of your friends. And your familia. Your Tía Sofia and Tío Lorenzo and all your primos, and Abuelo. We're not leaving Abuelo alone. We're not going anywhere."

"So we're not moving into Casita, right?"

Oh, mercy. She was glad she was having this conversation in private. Well, Dolores was probably listening to everything she was saying but she supposed she'd have to get used to knowing that. There was a big difference between knowing Dolores could possibly hear you and knowing Dolores was probably listening to you. "No, mija. We're going to stay living where we're living right now by the print shop and Bruno is going to stay living in Casita. We're – not married. We're just courting."

Josfina narrowed her eyes at her. "But you might get married. One day. That's what courting means."

Lucía's heart flip-flopped. "That's…true. But we've just admitted we love each other, bebé," she whispered. "We haven't discussed marriage yet."

"But you might. One day."

"Er…yes. We might one day. But that is something we will discuss together and with you before that happens."

Josefina nodded seriously, and stared at her feet. "And then…Bruno would be my…papá?"

Lucía's heart lurched and she bit down on the nervous laughter that was threatening to bubble out of her. Josefina had so many questions. "If we get married, then – sí. He would be your new padre. He already loves you very much, Josefina, but he would never try to replace Alejandro. He knows you love your Papá Alejandro and - "

Josefina looked up, puffed out her cheek, and nodded. "Okay. But only Bruno," she warned.

"What, bebé? Only Bruno what?"

Josefina put a hand on either side of her mamá's head and leaned forward, so close Lucía was trying not to go cross-eyed looking at her. "Only Bruno is allowed to be my new papá. I don't like anyone else. Only him."

Lucía pulled away slightly, blinking and smiling at Josefina. "Mi fresita, it's – it's – he might be, one day, but - "

"-but if he's not I don't want anyone else. Only him." Josefina insisted stubbornly.

Lucía pulled her in close and hugged her and kissed her. "Of course, Josefina. If it's not him, it won't be anyone else. I can promise you that." She'd gotten two chances at a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. She had no interest in ever trying for a third.

"But it's probably gonna be him." Josefina said.

Lucía sighed and tried not to smile, slightly exasperated. "Sí."

"And I'd have Papá Alejandro in heaven and Papá Bruno here now. So I get two papás." She smiled a satisfied little smile, as though she was a bit proud of that fact. "And then we'd move to Casita?"

Lucía sighed. "Possibly? Again, we haven't discussed that. I don't have all the answers right now. We're going to figure all of this out, together. But nobody is getting married anytime soon. We're just going to enjoy being together. And it might embarrass Bruno if you bring it up this soon so – just – let us – let Bruno and I - discuss those things when we're ready, okay? We'll talk to you, too, of course, about everything – but we need to discuss it on our own, first. You can ask me anything you want, anytime you have questions. You can tell me if anything makes you feel uncomfortable or - "

"Why would I feel uncomfortable?"

Lucía's brow furrowed.

"I mean I love Bruno." Josefina held her palms up and shrugged. "And you love Bruno. And Bruno loves us. And everything is staying the same except you're gonna smoochy kiss?" She giggled. "And then one day he might probably be my papá. And I'd get to be with his rats! All the time!" She gasped, as though the thought just occurred to her. "I'd be like Cenicienta!"

Her brow scrunched up and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Except instead of a stepmother…I get a step-father."

Lucía knew right where her train of thought was going. "Sí, when – if – we get married, you would have a stepfather. But he is good and kind and he - "

"I know. He would never make me clean the entire house. Casita - " she paused for a moment. "Well, I guess even if he did, Casita would help me. So it probably actually wouldn't be that bad…"

Lucía laughed. "No one is going to make you clean the entire Casita by yourself. And again – we're just going to take this one step at a time. We love each other and we love you and we're going to figure out how to be together, okay?"

"Okay," she said happily.

"Okay?"

"Sí. You guys can court. And kiss. You got my persimmons."

Lucía blinked. "Your what?"

Josefina lifted her chin. "My persimmons. You know. When I say it's okay to do something."

"Oooooh," Lucía breathed in understanding. "We have your permission."

Josefina nodded. "That's what I said. You have my persimmons to court."

A/N: Thanks for reading. :)

The scene with Pepa and the scene with Josefina insisting that she only approves of Bruno was inspired by ChipmunkfanNo.1's idea. Thanks Chipmunk! God bless you all and have a great week.