She hoped her current expression had him hearing her typical “but she’s driving me crazy” grievance. When he answered with an almost imperceptible disappointed shake of his salt-and-pepper head, some of the fight drained out of her.
Across the table, Enrique straightened in his seat with an apologetic grimace. She evil-eyed him for not having her back like he had promised. But she was equally pissed at herself. They had all anticipated her mom’s inquisition. Anamaría shouldn’t have let her mami’s nagging about Alejandro get her insides scrambled and her patience spread thin.
“Perdóname,” she apologized. “I am not available tomorrow. My day’s filled with classes and private training sessions. Plus, Sara and I are supposed to go over plans for our trip this weekend.”
Beneath the table, Anamaría knocked knees with Sara, counting on Luis’s fiancée to take the hint and jump in.
“Oh, yes!” Sara piped up. “My agent wants to meet with AM and there are some reps from an up-and-coming athletic wear company I’d like her to meet while we’re in Manhattan. She’d be a perfect fit to promo their merchandise. There might even be the potential for her to do some travel as a spokesperson.”
Ay, Dios, por favor. Anamaría closed her eyes as she whispered the prayer under her breath. “Please, God, let things pan out.” Landing an agent and securing a sponsorship would propel AM Fitness to a higher level of exposure and networking.
“See, even if I wanted to, I don’t have the time,” Anamaría told her mother. “If Alejandro wants someone to check his pin sites, maybe Enrique can stop by.”
“I’m on duty at the—Ow!” Her brother yelped when her sneaker connected with his shin. She glared at him, hoping mental telepathy was a real thing because right now she was cataloging the number of times she had covered for Enrique’s ass when they were kids and he pulled some dumb stunt. Often involving Alejandro. Her brother owed her.
“But I’ll give him a call. Let him know I’ll swing by Tuesday morning when I get off shift,” Enrique volunteered. “I need to tease his as—butt anyway. It’ll be good to catch up.”
“Gracias, Enrique.” Their mom gave her youngest son a benevolent smile, then swept her penetrating gaze back to Anamaría. “Forgiveness . . . es una bendición, nena . . . sí, a true blessing. I give thanks every day that your brothers have reconciled.”
In her peripheral vision, Anamaría caught Luis’s water glass salute to Enrique, who answered with a ghost of his usually cheesy smirk. She agreed, it really was a blessing her brothers had finally healed the years’ old rift between them. Luis had found the peace he deserved. And yet, with Enrique . . . the hollow expression on his GQ handsome face whenever the topic came up, like now, made it clear her younger brother still harbored some guilt over the tragic accident that had driven him and Luis apart. Only, he never talked about whatever weighed him down.
“Learn from your brothers. Forgive the past,” her mami counseled. “I fear you will not be truly happy until you do.”
Anamaría gazed into her mami’s eyes, the admonition tempered by a mother’s soulful desire for her child’s happiness. Around them the others ate quietly, respectful of their matriarch’s heartfelt admission. For several moments, the tinny clink of silverware against well-worn ceramic plates was the only sound in a room typically filled with boisterous conversation.
Little Ramón sent Anamaría a commiserating raised-brow, big-eyed, uh-oh look as he shoveled congrí into his mouth. Even at the age of six he could sense something serious going down and was probably relieved to not be the focus of his abuela’s attention. Smart kid.
Anamaría shot him a playful wink, though the truth in her mami’s words stung. Forgive and let the past go. Anamaría’s desire to simultaneously hug Alejandro and punch him in the gut proved she hadn’t succeeded in achieving either of her mom’s suggestions. But she would.
Until then, admitting even the tiniest bit of attraction would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull, encouraging her mami’s insistence on pushing Anamaría and Alejandro together.
No gracias. It had taken her long enough to recognize her own self-sabotage when it came to her love life. The last thing she needed was her mother’s interference.
“I have moved on, Mami. You have to accept that. My only focus now is my business.”
Sara placed a comforting hand on Anamaría’s forearm, and she glanced up in time to catch Gina’s thumbs-up. Their supportive gestures calmed Anamaría’s bubbling anxiety. She had to give it up for her brothers. They might drive her crazy sometimes with their bonehead antics, but they sure knew how to pick fantastic sisters for her!
Being surrounded by her loving familia and reminding herself that her mami only wanted what was best for all her children tempered Anamaría’s aggravation with the whole conversation. She didn’t want to squabble over this . . . over him . . . anymore.
“Look, I wish Alejandro well, but that’s all. Por favor, Mami, you need to let it be. Now, thanks to Sara’s help”—Anamaría smiled her gratitude—“my dream of expanding AM Fitness, helping others develop healthier eating habits and get in better shape on a wider scale, is becoming a reality. That’s enough for me right now. Estoy bien. Really, I’m good,” she repeated when her mother’s brows arched high with doubt.
Damn that Cuban mami radar that seemed to pick up on even the smallest of blips.
Anamaría reached for her glass of water, swallowing the truth. Good was not the same as great. Which she would be, soon. Especially when things really kicked off with AM Fitness and she was too busy to think about anything else. Like how messed up her personal life was.
But that personal life could not involve or be influenced by Alejandro anymore.
For his own sake, and the rest of his familia’s, she hoped his return signaled a chance for him and his father to reach an understanding.
Alejandro being back in Key West for this short time had absolutely nothing to do with her. She planned to keep it that way. Her sights set on business, not her heart.
She hoped her mami understood and the matchmaking had come to an end. The problem was, experience told her that convincing her mother wouldn’t be that easy.
* * *
“We’ll see you at eleven on Thursday, Señora Gómez.” Anamaría waved good-bye to the older woman who was on her way out of St. Mary’s Fellowship Hall after Monday’s seniors Zumba class.
“¡Sí! I will keep you in my prayers while you’re on duty!” Señora Gómez made a sign of the cross, pressing a kiss to her fingertips at the end. Then, in a blur of aqua leggings and a bright yellow short-sleeved tee, the older lady headed out into the humid, late-April midday sun.
Several other regular attendees called out adios or good-bye or blessings after gathering their belongings from the tables pushed off to the side to create a makeshift workout floor in the center. One first-timer, a widow who had mentioned her recent move to Key West to live with her son’s family after her husband’s death, approached Anamaría.
“Are you sure there’s no fee involved?” the older woman asked, pulling a light blue hand towel from the brightly patterned Lilly Pulitzer bag slung over her shoulder.