The First Time, Chapter 11
Title: The First Time
Rating: R
A/N: I hope everyone had a great long holiday weekend, if you were lucky enough to get one. Mine was a wee bit on the chilly side, but very relaxing. And I came back to discover that a mob has not yet been formed in protest against me around here (though, juney, I've got my eye on you!), so I guess that means...onto the next chapter! :)
Read Chapter 1 here
Read Chapter 2 here
Read Chapter 3 here
Read Chapter 4 here
Read Chapter 5 here
Read Chapter 6 here
Read Chapter 7 here
Read Chapter 8 here
Read Chapter 9 here
Read Chapter 10 here
Chapter 11
The first time Don Lorenzo suggests Pepa get back into the dating pool, Pepa nearly falls off her chair in shock.
“I’m worried about you,” he tells her over lunch at Lizarran. He’s eating what Pepa insisted on - a large salad and lemon water - instead of whatever artery-clogging meal he’d rather have. Every time they eat together, it’s a battle of wills. Don Lorenzo is stubborn about everything, and his meals are no exception. Pepa hopes Silvia appreciates the effort it takes to keep her father healthy.
Pepa looks up from her plate, slightly amused. She still has to stop and remind herself sometimes that Don Lorenzo now has a protective streak when it comes to her. Which is, she readily admits, much better than wanting to kill her.
“Why is that?” she asks, trying to keep a straight face. She watches as Don Lorenzo begins to…squirm.
“I think you need to start seeing someone,” he says at last, not quite looking her in the eyes. Pepa is confused.
“What? What do you mean, ‘seeing someone?’”
Don Lorenzo’s face starts to color, and Pepa notes the change with mild concern. She worries about his blood pressure.
“You know,” he says, gesturing vaguely, “See someone.” He makes a motion like she should understand. Pepa’s eyebrows knit together in concentration. And then she thinks she knows what he’s getting, given that his pastime recently has been gauging her emotional state.
“What, like a therapist?” Pepa asks. Her alarm grows as her question only seems to add to her father-in-law’s agitation.
“Don Lorenzo, are you all right?”
The flush blooming across his face deepens. Perhaps this is a family trait.
Don Lorenzo rolls his eyes and gives a frustrated sigh. He finally looks up at her.
“No, not a therapist! A woman! A nice woman!”
Pepa, having just taken a sip of water, starts and nearly spits it out, and looks at Don Lorenzo with wide eyes.
Forcing herself to swallow, then taking another sip for good measure, she manages, “Don Lorenzo, are you telling me to start…dating?!”
Don Lorenzo at last looks relieved. He nods emphatically as his normal color starts to return.
“Yes, yes, that’s what I’m saying. I think…I think it’s time, Pepa.”
Pepa, for once in her life, is at a loss for words. She’s oddly touched that Don Lorenzo has even been thinking about this aspect of her life, given that not so long ago, he was convinced that she’d utterly corrupted his little girl. But the idea that he’s actually proposing is…terrifying. The thought of getting close to someone again, of being that open, is enough to make her pulse race, and make her go numb with panic.
Don Lorenzo is looking at her expectantly.
“Thank you,” she says at last, “For thinking about this. But I don’t know…I can’t…I’m not ready yet.”
He reaches over and lays his hand over hers.
“I want you to be happy, Pepa. She would want that too.”
Pepa nods, a lump forming in her throat.
“I know,” she says quietly. She flips her hand under his and squeezes it, and they sit quietly together for a moment.
Pepa then shakes her head to clear it.
“But do you know what else will make me happy?”
“Hmmm?”
Pepa grabs Don Lorenzo’s fork and spears an avocado off his plate. She offers it to him, eyebrows raised.
Don Lorenzo sighs and makes a face.
“Promise me you’ll think about it?” he asks.
“I promise,” Pepa replies and nods. She stretches her arm still closer with the fork. “Now eat.”
He grabs the fork from her.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?”
Pepa grins, a memory flashing through her mind. “Yes,” she replies cheerfully, as he stuffs the fork into his mouth with a resigned attitude. “Castros, in particular, seem to like to remind me of that.”