Page 24 of Axes and Ohs

Erick laughs like the idea is too ridiculous to take seriously. “No kissing my fake boyfriend, huh? You drive a hard bargain, but okay.” His eyebrow arches. “But my real boyfriend can kiss me now, if he wants.”

“He wants,” I say roughly. Then I do just that.

CHAPTER FIVE

ERICK

I used to think the old saying about time flying when you’re having fun was sort of a lie. You know, like the one about watched pots never boiling? Because I’ve had plenty of fun in my life—epic parties, incredible travels, the whole nine yards—but the days and weeks and months still dragged.

So I think that expression needs a rebrand. Something like… time flies when you’re with the right person, when you’re living a life that fits, and when you’re not pretending to be something you’re not.

It’s not pithy, admittedly, but I can tell you for sure that it’s real because the months since I moved to Winsome have flown by.

Winter (which lasts into spring around here) was a dream sequence of packing and moving, of finding an apartment and slowly settling in, of Carlos teaching me how to fix refrigerator shelves, and the two of us curled up on my brand-new sofa.

Spring was a fast-forward blur of starting my new job and forging connections with my coworkers and neighbors, of decorating Carlos’s porch with flower pots and fresh paint, of kissing him senseless when he built me an herb garden and labeled every plant in Spanish and English.

And summer… well, summer’s been a daydream of light and warmth, of long weekend days in the hammock listening to insects buzz, and nights throwing barbecues for our friends.

At least so far.

But now I’m standing in the bathroom of the Winsome Community Center, adjusting my tie for the third time, and though it’s warm outside, that’s not why I’ve retreated here to freshen up.

“You’ve got this,” I tell my reflection.

If you’d told past-Erick that attending a fifteen-year-old girl’s birthday party could stress me out, I don’t think I’d have believed you. But there are a lot of things about my life in Winsome that I can’t believe.

The bathroom door swings open, and the number one most unbelievable thing leans against the doorframe, taking in my reflection in the mirror.

“Found you,” my boyfriend teases as he stalks toward me.

Carlos looks freaking devastating in his charcoal-gray suit, but then he’s also devastating in his broken-in jeans and shit-kicking boots, or in nothing at all.

“You nervous?”

“No,” I say, though we both know I mean yes. “It’s just… I’m your first boyfriend, and this is my first time meeting your extended family. It’s kind of a big deal. And you have a lot of tias who flew into town for this.” I attack my tie again. “I want them to like me.”

“Baby, it’s their first time meeting you. You’re practically a Morales now—and you know it’s not just me saying that. Mamá told you too. She adores you, and my tias are going to love you.”

He wraps his arms around me from behind and tweaks my tie, making it look ten times better than what my nervous fingers had accomplished. “Think about everything you’ve done this year—quitting your job, becoming a teacher, moving to Winsome, hooking up with a first-time-bi dude, introducing your lumberjack boyfriend to your parents. After all that, meeting a couple of nice Guatemalan ladies is no big.”

I have to laugh because… he’s right that it’s been a hell of a year.

The best year.

I’m so freaking grateful for my life in Winsome, for my cute little apartment not far from the school, for the friends who voluntold me to join the local book club. I adore my job, which now includes running a nature summer camp for preschoolers. I’m on better terms with my family, who’ve accepted that I’m happy, even if they’re still mystified by my choices. And I love my lumberjack boyfriend…

Even if I’ve never actually told him that in so many words.

“You are the handsomest man at this party,” Carlos whispers.

“Ha. Flatterer.” I relax back against him, shutting my eyes for a moment and letting his warm strength surround me. “There’s no way I’m handsomer than Alejandro.”

One of Carlos’s sixteen cousins is an honest-to-god romance novel cover model—a fact I’d learned no thanks to Carlos. Last March, I’d helped Ames cater one of Winsome’s romance-novel book club meetings, and I’d learned that one of the members also runs an Alejandro Morales fan club. Turns out she has kind of a thing for Carlos’s cousin.

And by thing, I mean she gave me a signed picture of Alejandro along with my tip.

“That’s gonna be priceless one day, Erick,” Maureen Derman had told me seriously. “Keep it safe.”