Another reason the Smoothie King job worked so well was that Ash lived with her father Friday through Sunday. Ash had never told him that in so many words, but the weekends were hers. Which meant Rico needed his work to drive away the restlessness of being without her.

When he’d asked her what she did at the restaurant, she’d shrugged and said, “Everything. Except working in the kitchen.” Her mouth had twisted as though tasting something foul. “I hate how crazy everyone gets about cooking. It’s just throwing ingredients together.”

His mãe had been obsessed with cooking; their lives had orbited around mealtimes. Taking Ashna out to eat was like taking someone unmoved by art to a museum. Food fell under that untouchable part of her life locked up in the vault where everything about her family sat.

The last time Rico had expressed an interest in visiting her restaurant, she’d turned to him with the first flash of fear he’d ever seen in her eyes. “My father is very old-fashioned. He isn’t even comfortable with me being friends with boys. He can’t know that I have a boyfriend.”

This had struck Rico as odd. His parents had teased him constantly about any girls he was friends with. He’d brought home all the girls he’d gone out with since his first girlfriend at thirteen. He barely even remembered any of them; mostly they’d been friends, pretty girls in his grade who liked to say they had a boyfriend, especially a boyfriend who played football. They had maybe held hands and gone out for ice cream. Mostly, he’d done it because it had been what everyone expected of him.

Truth be told, his mãe had been more excited about the fact that he had a girlfriend than he was.

Now there was Ash, whom she would never meet.

Just the thought of Ash made his heart race. The darkness inside him from losing his parents became bearable when she held him. The sense he’d had since he’d lost them—that nothing would ever feel right again—eased when he made her laugh. If he could have one wish, it would be that his parents had met her. They would have fallen instantly in love.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped into the Honda Civic he was slowly paying Auntie Lena back for and found himself on 280 heading to Palo Alto. He’d done this a few times, driven by Ash’s restaurant on the nights she worked. He’d never told her, because frankly it was embarrassing to be needy enough to drive half an hour for the chance of catching a glimpse of the girl he spent every possible moment with on schooldays.