Chapter 3 — Advice and Warnings

Lena

The scent of cinnamon and sugar hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint hum of the kitchen radio playing a throwback salsa tune. I leaned against the countertop in Casa Alvarez’s kitchen, watching Sofia expertly roll out dough with military precision. Her sharp bob was tucked neatly behind her ears, and her blazer was draped over the back of a dining chair, her blouse sleeves rolled up as she worked. The gallery wall of family photos loomed behind her, a vivid testament to decades of love, loss, and laughter. The shrine in the corner, adorned with fresh flowers and candles, caught the sunlight streaming through the window, lending the kitchen a quiet reverence beneath the bustle.

I was supposed to be helping. Instead, I kept sneaking bites of the dough when she wasn’t looking, earning me exasperated glares every time she caught me.

“Do you have to eat every piece I roll out?” she asked, her tone clipped but not unkind.

“Quality control,” I shot back, pretending to inspect the dough like a food critic before popping it into my mouth with a grin. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting subpar empanadas.”

Sofia sighed, her rolling pin pausing mid-strike. “You’re like a raccoon rummaging through the trash at midnight. Just stop.”

I snorted, but her words didn’t deter me. Instead, I exaggerated my movements, tiptoeing toward the dough pile like a cartoon thief as she turned back to her work. She caught me mid-reach, swatting my hand away with the precision of a cat batting at a fly.

“So,” she said finally, her voice casual, but her eyes cutting toward me like a warning shot. “How was your big fake date with Carlos?”

I nearly choked on the dough. “Who told you about that?”

“Please,” she said, arching one perfectly drawn eyebrow. “You’ve been my sister for twenty-seven years. I know when you’re up to something stupid.”

I groaned, slumping against the counter. “It’s not stupid. It’s—”

“A disaster waiting to happen?” she offered, cutting me off smoothly. Her tone wasn’t as sharp as I expected, more observant than cutting.

I crossed my arms, glaring at her. “It’s an experiment, okay? We’re trying to figure out if this whole marriage pact thing is as absurd as it sounds. You know, so we can move on and stop pretending it’s hanging over our heads.”

She set down the rolling pin and turned to face me fully, her dark eyes narrowing in that way that always made me feel like I was under a microscope. “And what happens if you figure out it’s not so absurd? What then?”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, sharper than a slap. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

“That’s not going to happen,” I said eventually, avoiding her gaze. “Carlos and I are—”

“Friends,” she finished for me, her tone flat. “Yes, I’ve heard. But you and I both know it’s a little more complicated than that.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because, of course, she was right. It was complicated. It had been complicated for years, even if I’d refused to admit it, even to myself. I thought of the night at La Estrella, the way his smile had lingered when I joked about the skyline, the unexpected warmth in his voice when he told me I wasn’t small. It had felt… different.

Sofia sighed, softening slightly as she turned back to the dough. “Look, Lena, I get it. Carlos is a good guy. He’s safe. Comfortable. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you really want. Otherwise, you’re going to end up ruining the best friendship you’ve ever had.”

Her words settled over the kitchen like a dense fog, heavy and uncomfortably true. I busied myself with arranging empanadas on the baking tray, but my mind refused to cooperate, replaying Sofia’s warning alongside the night at La Estrella. The way he’d leaned in when I wasn’t looking, like he couldn’t help himself.

What did I really want?

I didn’t have an answer.

——

Meanwhile, across town, Carlos stood in front of the punching bag at Oakridge Athletic Center, his fists wrapped in white tape. He threw a light jab, followed by a cross, the rhythmic thud of his hits drowned out by the gym’s steady hum of music and chatter. His heartbeat matched the rhythm of his punches, but his focus was elsewhere.

“Man, you’re distracted,” Marcus said from nearby, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “That’s, like, the third time you’ve missed the bag. At this rate, you’re gonna knock out the air.”

Carlos shot him a look but didn’t respond, throwing another combination of punches instead.

“Let me guess,” Marcus continued, his grin widening. “This has something to do with a certain someone whose name starts with L and rhymes with—”

“Don’t,” Carlos interrupted, his tone firm but not angry.

Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying, you’ve been weird all day. And you usually only get like this when it involves her.”

Carlos sighed, stepping back from the bag and unwrapping his hands. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face before finally meeting Marcus’s gaze. “We had our first test date last night,” he admitted.

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, so it’s happening for real? I thought you guys were kidding about that whole thing.”

“Yeah, well, so did I,” Carlos muttered, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

Marcus smirked, crossing his arms again. “So? How’d it go? Did she embarrass you in public? Spill wine on you? Accidentally insult the waiter?”

Carlos chuckled despite himself. “She did pretend it was our anniversary to get free tacos.”

“Classic Lena,” Marcus said with a laugh. “Sounds like a good time, though. So what’s the problem?”

Carlos hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “It’s just… when we’re together, it’s easy. It always has been. But now, with these test dates, it’s like…”

“Like you’re seeing her differently?” Marcus offered, his tone more serious now.

Carlos looked up sharply, his expression guarded. “No. I mean, not really. It’s just… complicated.”

Marcus snorted. “Dude, you’ve been in love with her since college. Wanna know what’s complicated? Pretending you’re not.”

Carlos opened his mouth to argue, but Marcus held up a hand to stop him.

“Think about it,” Marcus said, leaning forward. “What if she started dating someone else? Like, really dating. Could you handle that?”

Carlos’s jaw tightened, the question hitting him like an unexpected punch. The idea of Lena’s hand in someone else’s, her laughter aimed at someone else, made his stomach twist.

“It’s not that simple,” Carlos said, his voice low.

“It never is,” Marcus said with a shrug. “But you’ve got two choices: keep playing it safe and risk losing her anyway, or take the leap and see what happens. Your call.”

Carlos didn’t respond, his mind racing as he replayed the night at La Estrella. The way Lena had laughed, the way she’d looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

What would he do if she chose someone else?

He wasn’t sure, but the thought of losing her terrified him more than anything else.

——

Back in Casa Alvarez’s kitchen, Sofia slid the tray of empanadas into the oven and dusted her hands off on a dish towel. “Alright, your turn,” she said, nodding toward the sink. “Dishes.”

I groaned but obeyed, rolling up my sleeves and turning on the water.

“So,” Sofia said casually, leaning against the counter as she watched me scrub. “What’s next on the agenda? Another fake date?”

“Probably,” I said, focusing intently on a particularly stubborn spot of dough.

“And how do you plan to keep pretending this is just an experiment?”

Her question caught me off guard, and I turned to look at her, water dripping from my hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sofia’s expression softened, her usual sharpness giving way to something gentler. “It means I know you, Lena. You’re scared. You’ve always been scared when it comes to him. But maybe it’s time to stop running and figure out what you’re really afraid of.”

Her words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, and I turned back to the sink, my mind racing.

What was I really afraid of?

Both of us—Carlos in the gym and me in the kitchen—were left with the same question, our respective confidants pushing us to confront the truth we weren’t ready to face.

The thought of Carlos not being in my life terrified me. And that, I realized, might be the scariest answer of all.