“Bull. Shit. You think because you went through some shit in your life that you’re unlovable or incapable of love? Between you and my brother, I don’t know who I want to slap more. It doesn’t matter what happens to you. In the end, all we are is our ability to love. That never gets taken away or diminished. It’s dumb chickenshits like you two who try to hide from it. You’re as capable of loving as I am.”

“Jeez, don’t hold back or anything,” Gloria said, getting to her feet.

“The whole damn world has gone insane,” Sophie snapped, stomping toward the door. “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to go crawl back in bed with my husband and show him all the ways I’m so grateful he isn’t half the dumbass you all are!”

With a slam of the door, Sophie was gone, and Gloria was alone again.

76

“He asked you to move in with him?” Gloria’s mother patted a hand over her heart. “I’m so happy for you, Gloria! He is a good man.” In celebration, she stabbed the button on the blender, working her magic on a pitcher of strawberry margaritas. The glasses that Aldo had thoughtfully chosen lined up next to it.

Gloria sucked in a breath and finished the rest of the miserable story. “I told him I needed some space. Some time to think,” she said loudly over the blender.

Her mother turned off the blender abruptly. Sara’s long, quiet look communicated quite a lot. So did her “hmm.”

“What?” Gloria felt defensive now. She shouldn’t be so quick to jump into such a serious relationship. She needed time to heal, time to grow on her own. She was being responsible. She slid off the stool to pace. “I’m not rushing into a commitment. Again,” she said, ignoring the fact that she had already rushed into the commitment and then promptly backed out of it.

“You were sixteen, mija. No sixteen-year-old is equipped to make good, informed decisions. You’re all hormones and angst and ‘my mother doesn’t understand me.’”

In a lot of ways, Gloria felt like she was still sixteen, standing in her mother’s kitchen defending her life’s decisions. “Mama,” she rolled her eyes. “I know what I’m doing. It isn’t the right time.”

“I am listening to your words and not believing them. I don’t think you believe them either,” Sara pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. Her earrings, delicate silver bells, danced from her lobes as if shivering from the judgment Sara was firing in her direction.

“It seems like we’re moving too fast. We’re both coming out of difficult situations, and now we’re spending Thanksgiving together, and he’s asking me to move in. What’s next? An engagement? Marriage? Kids?”