Because Amanda had been unwell, it was late in the afternoon by the time Quentin finally brought her back to the Solis family home.
When the car pulled up, Quentin meticulously wrapped Amanda in several layers of clothing. She emerged looking like a bundle of wool and slowly made her way inside. Quentin followed a few paces behind, his arms laden with festive gifts.
As soon as Amanda stepped into the hallway, she saw Diego standing alone, hanging decorations. She blinked, squinting at his face, and then burst into a fit of giggles.
"Ha ha!"
Disturbed by the laughter, Diego spun around. He found his sister doubled over and Quentin standing behind her, watching the scene with a faint, knowing smirk.
"What are you laughing at?" Diego snapped. "Keep it up and I'll beat you to death."
Amanda wasn't the least bit intimidated. The more she looked at her brother's bruised, "blue and purple" face—the artistic lingering work of their mother—the harder she laughed.
Quentin handed the gifts to a nearby worker and stepped forward to help Amanda out of her fur coat. His movements were gentle and slow, but his words carried a sharp edge.
"You dare to hit my wife?" Quentin asked smoothly. "Do you have a death wish, Diego?"
Diego snorted, rolling up his sleeves. "If you're so brave, why don't you step up and try me?"
His mother had already beaten him until his legs were weak; he wasn't about to let these two get the better of him as well. Amanda's big, round eyes peeked out from her shawl, widening in anticipation of a fight.
Diego made a move to charge across the hall, but he was suddenly cut off. Mr. Solis appeared, brandishing a cleaning broom like a weapon, ready to "sweep" his son right out the front door.
"Who exactly are you planning to hit?" Mr. Solis demanded.
Diego immediately backed down, crossing his arms over his chest in a pout. "I was just kidding!" He knew better; if he actually laid a finger on Amanda, his position in this family would drop to sub-zero.
Mr. Solis gave his son one last menacing look before turning a warm, doting smile toward his daughter. "If you're sick, why didn't you rest more? You could have just come over for the dinner tonight."
Now freed from her extra layers, Amanda ran over and threw her arms around her father. "I missed you so much, Dad! I couldn't wait until tonight."
Mr. Solis laughed, ruffling her hair. "You only say you miss me so you can get a piece of cake."
She grinned and squeezed him tighter. Quentin approached and offered a respectful nod. "Hi, Dad."
"Come in, come in," Mr. Solis welcomed them. "Your mother is busy in the kitchen."
Amanda took Quentin's hand and led him inside, her voice chattering away. "Dad, have you finished wrapping the cakes yet?"
"I'm a step behind this year," he admitted. Amanda laughed, remembering the chaotic, lumpy cakes he had made in years past. Diego, left forgotten at the door, let out a huff and went back to his decorations.
Amanda headed straight for the kitchen. She crept up behind Mrs. Solis and hugged her waist. "Mommy!"
Mrs. Solis jumped slightly, nearly dropping her spoon. She turned around and tapped Amanda's forehead. "Be careful in here! The kitchen is dangerous when I'm cooking."
Amanda rubbed her forehead and peered into a steaming pot. "I wanted to surprise you. What are you making?"
Mrs. Solis scooped up a small bit of soup, blew on it until the steam cleared, and held it out. "It's chicken soup. Tell me if it needs more salt."
Amanda took a sip. The taste was nostalgic—exactly like the soup from every New Year before. For some reason, her nose began to sting with emotion. She smiled brightly. "Mom's cooking is the best."
"Of course it is," Mrs. Solis replied confidently.
"Can I help? I can wash the vegetables."
"Don't worry about the vegetables, just go relax," Mrs. Solis insisted, practically shoving her out and closing the kitchen door in her face.
Amanda stood there bewildered for a moment before heading to the living room. Quentin noticed a light sheen of sweat on her forehead as she sat down. He set aside his tea and used a tissue to gently wipe her brow.
"Tired from all that running around?"
Amanda nodded, tugging at the scarf around her neck. Quentin leaned down, pressing his cheek against hers to check her temperature. "The fever has broken, but you still need your medicine. I'll go get it."
As Quentin walked away to put her shawl aside, Mr. Solis watched them with a twinkle in his eye. "It seems Quentin is taking very good care of you," he teased. "I should expect some grandchildren soon, shouldn't I?"
Amanda shyly hid her face behind a cup of tea. "What grandchildren? I'm just sick, Dad."
Mr. Solis chuckled and dropped the subject. Quentin returned with her medicine, and Amanda took it obediently. As she winced at the bitter aftertaste, a piece of candy was suddenly slipped into her mouth. She smiled, sucking on the sweet, as Quentin turned back to her father.
"It's almost time for dinner. Where did Diego go?"
Mr. Solis sipped his tea leisurely. "Ah, Diego. His mother gave him a task. If he doesn't complete it, I'm afraid it'll just be the four of us for dinner tonight."
Quentin and Amanda shared a silent look, both saying a quiet prayer for Diego's survival.
Across town, Diego was suffering.
He sat in the Lugo family's living room, feeling the weight of a dozen glares that felt like they were burning holes in his skin. He kept his face stiff and refused to budge from the sofa.
"Mr. and Mrs. Lugo, the news online was a misunderstanding," Diego explained for the tenth time. "There is no 'problem' between Celia and me."
Before Celia's parents could speak, Jason Lugo—Celia's protective older brother—interrupted him. "And what gives you the right to come here and try to take my sister away on New Year's Eve?"
Diego took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "My mother personally invited Celia to our house for the reunion dinner."
"And if I don't agree?" Jason asked, sipping his tea with agonizing slowness. He looked at Diego like he was a bug under a microscope.
Diego was fuming, but he knew he was trapped. He gritted his teeth and looked Jason straight in the eye.
"If I don't bring Celia back, my mother won't let me back into the house. So, if she stays here... I'll just have to spend New Year's Eve at your house too."
God, I really want to slap this guy's smug face, Diego thought.