BooksBarbecue
Back Salt and Sugar Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“It’s more like... I was so tired after coming home from Curitiba. While I was gone, I thought about the life I’d be leaving behind if I decided to stay with my father, and I realized I didn’t want to leave my family, Sugar, the neighborhood... But if I came back, I knew things would have to drastically change. I knew I also couldn’t go back to the feud. I was drained enough from arguing with Grandpa. And then you came out of nowhere when I was carrying the cake. I realized I wasn’t totally sure if you’d done that on purpose, when in the past I’d have been positive you did. It was a small doubt at first, but it was enough for me to start questioning everything I believed about you. About us.”

He plants a kiss on my lips. A kiss that’s full of pent-up yearning, like he’s trying to bottle this moment.

When I kiss him back, it’s like a reminder of all the things I wish we’d realized sooner about each other, the missed opportunities to grow up together, fall in love, and start a relationship with our families’ support.

I hate this constant reminder that everything is drowned in rumors and old grudges.

We drink up each kiss like it’s our last, unable to escape the constant fear of being pulled apart. Our mothers are still feuding, after all. And Mom got so upset today thinking we’re just friends. Imagine if she knew we’re dating.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I say.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

I pull away to look into his eyes. “I want us to end the feud. At the contest.”

Pedro frowns, a thumb rubbing my cheek. “We can’t end a decades-old feud in one day.”

“No. But we can start.” I hold his hand. “I don’t know if you’re up for it, but let’s bring our families to the contest. Let’s show them we’re stronger together.”

He looks fearful, gazing out at the ocean. But when he turns back to me, his eyes are bright with new determination. “I’m with you. No matter what,” he says.

And we kiss again, our lips sealing a promise to ourselves that we’ll be brave.

47

THURSDAY, JUNE 23

When we arrive at the 1800s palace-style building on Thursday, the huge banner that hangs above the front stairs reads “Gastronomic Society’s Cooking Contest.” The street is lined with TV crew vans, and the place is packed with contestants and journalists.

I gawk at the front stairs, the big windows, and the blue-and-white Portuguese tiles covering the facade, which I’d only seen in pictures. This is all so bittersweet. I wish Grandma were here now.