Hector took a seat at the kitchen table. “You know I’m just going to eat out of the pan when you’re gone.”
Lupita sniffed. “Well, at least I won’t be here to see it.”
Hector shook his head before taking a bite. “Mmmm, delicioso. Gracias, Mamá.” He took another bite. “So why no more food deliveries?”
“Because you have someone who cooks for you now. And there is no reason he shouldn’t be here doing it on a regular basis.” She turned and leaned back against the counter. “Claudia told me that Miguel came and comforted you after that shooting. You told me he was the one and now you’re back together. So how long are you going to wait until you ask Miguel to marry you, mijo?”
Hector choked on his mouthful of pepper. That was the last thing he’d expected his mother to say. Once he managed to get the food down, he looked at Lupita. “Mamá, you know the Church doesn’t sanction marriage between two men.”
“No, but the federal courts do.”
Hector snorted. “For now.”
“Now is what matters. Miguel is always here, you take care of each other. You love him. He loves you. You need to do what’s right.”
Hector dropped his head back with a groan. “Mamá. I can’t believe you came over here to badger me about this.”
Lupita wasn’t moved by his antics. She simply stared at him with her lips pursed and eyebrow raised, a sure sign she wasn’t budging until she got the answer she wanted. Hector got up and went to his bedroom. After digging through the back of his T-shirt and underwear drawer, he returned carrying a small burgundy box. Hector set the box on the kitchen table and casually went back to eating his chile relleno.
Lupita’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”
With a smug grin, Hector nodded. “Si.”
“You’re going to ask Miguel to marry you?”
“Yep, tomorrow night.”
Lupita clasped her hands together, tears shining in her eyes. “Mi rey, that makes me so happy!”
She came forward, and Hector thought she was going to give him a hug. He should have known better. She smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow! Really, Ma?” It hadn’t actually hurt, but he had to milk it and tease her.
“That’s for taking so long to do the right thing and for teasing your mamá.” She clasped her hands together again. “Now, let me see the ring.”
Chapter 20
The next afternoon, Hector lay in bed with Miguel. They were in their favorite post-sex position, Miguel draped over his chest with Hector holding him close and running his fingers through his hair. It was raining and gloomy outside, but they were warm and relaxed.
As they lay there, Hector thought of the ring he had hidden in his dresser. He was tempted to get it and propose to Miguel right then. But he wanted to make it special. If he proposed now, their engagement story would be, Yeah, so we’d just finished a round of sex that knocked over a lamp. I got out of bed, my dick swinging in the breeze, took his ring out of my underwear drawer and gave it to him. Not exactly the most romantic story. And definitely not one he wanted to share with his family. He was going to have to put in a little effort. He’d take Miguel out to dinner and then let things play out from there.
Hector pressed a kiss to the top of Miguel’s head. “Let’s go out to dinner tonight.”
Miguel stretched. “I’m too comfortable to get up. Let’s order a pizza and eat it naked in bed.”
“When we did that before, you accidentally dropped hot tomato sauce on your stomach and screamed like you’d been branded with a hot poker.”
Miguel hid his face against Hector’s chest. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”
Hector laughed and squeezed him tight. “I want to take you some place nice tonight.”
“How nice?”
“Hmmm… Nice enough that I’ll need to call and make reservations.”
“Oooh, fancy.” Miguel got up from the bed. “I’ll have to go home and get dolled up,” he said as he righted the lamp.
Hector rolled to his side and watched as Miguel bounced his way into his tight jeans, his ass jiggling as he moved. “Okay. I’ll be there to pick you up at seven.”
Later that evening, Hector sat across the dinner table from Miguel. He’d brought them to one of the nicest steak houses in Houston. They’d dressed for the occasion—Hector in a sports coat, button-down, and slacks; Miguel in a soft plum-colored cashmere sweater and gray corduroys. The service and food were wonderful, but Hector was nervous, fiddling with his knife, tapping his foot. More than once Miguel had asked if he was okay. Hector said yes, but he couldn’t control the butterflies in his stomach.