Page 73 of Hate That Blooms
A photo of them in a pillow fort in the living room has me smiling. I show Dr. Vargas and she smiles. “He seems like a keeper.”
I smile as I re-read it and stare at the picture, feeling a warm flush of affection. Joaquín has been so supportive throughout all of this, never pushing, always understanding when I need space or time to think. He’s steady, sure of himself in a way that I admire now. He always listens when I talk about the future. But it’s not just about the future of our relationship—it’s abouthisfuture, too. And he’s been clear about what he wants and what he’s willing to do.
The text is enough to remind me of what we’ve talked about—aboutwhenwe’ve talked about it. Joaquín’s been asking questions lately. Questions about what my birth control is and what our plans are for the future. And, honestly, he’s been thoughtful about it. A little nervous, even in his own way. Not because he doesn’t want kids, but because he knows that now is not the right time.
In fact, Joaquín told me he plans on being stable with his job once he graduates. He told me that whatever path I choose, he’ll make sure we’re taken care of—that he’ll be able to provide for me, for Mireya, and for any children we decide to have.
He said it so matter-of-factly, but there was something in his voice—a quiet confidence—that made me believe him. It made me believe he would be ready when the time came and that we could make it work. But I don’t want to rush. I don’t want to rushanythinguntil we’re ready. And right now, that’s not the next step.
Dr. Vargas watches me for a moment, waiting for me to respond to her suggestions. But I’m lost in thought for a second.
“I think I need to talk to him about the options,” I say finally, looking up at her. “I’m not sure which one would work best for me or for us. Graduation is only three years away. IUD’s last longer than that.” I feel my face flush, thinking about how in three years from now I could be asking him to have a baby with me.
That’s insane, isn’t it?
She smiles kindly, not pushing me to make a decision right now. “That’s completely fine, Gabriela. Take your time. This is your body, your choice. It’s very kind of you to include his opinion in all of it, but remember, you know what’s best for you. We can revisit this at your next appointment if you’d like, or you can always call and I can squeeze you in.”
I nodded, feeling a little lighter, a little more at ease. Maybe I don’t need to have it all figured out today. Maybe the most important thing right now is that I’m taking responsibility for my future—and Joaquín is a part of that future. I want to make these decisions with him.
Chapter46
Gabriela
When I get home from the appointment, the house is quiet. It’s almost eerie, the silence that falls over a space when everyone’s been busy all day, caught in their own world. But I know that silence is about to break. I can already hear the soft hum of Mireya’s favorite cartoon coming from her room, and I can feel Joaquín’s presence before I even see him.
He’s in the kitchen when I walk in, chopping vegetables with that focused concentration that always makes me smile. Joaquín asked if there was anything he could do to help with dinner when I was leaving the doctor’s office and here he was doing it.A man that follows through. Swoon.Whether it’s making dinner, working on a project, or just listening to me vent, he’s all in. He really did change, and he continues to better himself every single day. Who knew that the almost twenty-year-old man standing in our kitchen would be who he is right now after all we’ve been through?
“Hey,” I say, slipping off my shoes by the door and leaning against the frame of the kitchen. “How was your day?”
“Long,” he replies, his lips curling into a smile when he looks up at me. “But good. Mireya’s in her room watching her cartoons. I figured I’d get a head start on dinner prep. What are we having tonight?”
“How doescaldo de ressound?” I come up behind him, placing a kiss between his covered shoulders and wrapping my hands around his stomach.
“That sounds perfect,” he says, his voice softer than I expected.
I don’t know why, but there’s something about seeing him in the kitchen doing something for me and Mireya that makes me feel a wave of affection. Like I would do and give him anything he asked.
“How was your appointment?” Joaquín asks, turning away from the cutting board and wiping his hands on the towel hanging from the oven door. He seems genuinely interested, and I’m not surprised. He’s been that way lately, asking questions, paying attention. I feel a little vulnerable admitting what’s been on my mind, but I trust him.
“It went well, I guess,” I say, walking over to the counter and leaning against it. I look at him, trying to find the right words. “I talked to Dr. Vargas about my birth control options. She gave me a few choices, but I don’t know... It’s just a lot to think about.”
He gives me a curious look but doesn’t interrupt. But I know he’s been thinking about it too. We’ve had enough conversations to know that a future is coming, and we just want to be prepared. Raising Mireya isn’t a cakewalk and adding another little person doesn’t appeal to us right now. We know the timing will never be "perfect,” but we want to be as close to it as we can.
“So, what are you thinking?” he asks, picking up the knife again and slicing through the meat, his hands moving smoothly through the familiar motions of it.
I love watching him prepare dinner. I can get lost in him doing the mundane things in life. Cooking, cleaning, doing the yard work—all of it.
“I’m leaning toward something long-term,” I say. “Maybe an IUD or an implant. I don’t really want to worry about it constantly. I’m still not sure, though. It feels... permanent, in a way.”
Joaquín pauses and turns his head toward me. His brow furrows just slightly, but it’s a thoughtful expression. I can see he’s been considering all of this, the future, us, everything. He’s always been open about what he wants in life, and I’ve come to admire his certainty and his ability to plan ahead with calm assurance. I know he wants us to have kids. He’s said it since high school, that I was going to be the mother of his babies. But he isn’t rushing into this like I would have expected him to.
“I get it,” he says slowly, his voice steady. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support it. It’s your body. You know it best and what you are and aren’t comfortable with. But... I do think a longer-term method would be better for both of us, especially if we’re waiting until after graduation. No sense in stressing over it every few months. But if that isn’t what you want, I’ll go along with whatever you want. I’ll even wear condoms if you’re worried that it isn’t as effective or if you just want that extra reassurance.”
I can feel the sincerity in his words. He means it. But the thing is, he doesn’thaveto say any of this. He could easily just tell me to do what I think is best, let it be my decision, and move on. But instead, he’s engaged, listening, and taking this seriously. The way he looks at me now, it’s the same way he always looks at me now—like I matter. Like my choices matter. Like we’re a team.
I take a deep breath, letting his words settle. “You’re right. I just... I don’t know. I still feel weird about it. I mean, what if I regret it? What if?—”
“Reina,” he interrupts gently, setting the knife down on the cutting board and walking over to me. He takes my hand in his, his fingers warm against mine. “Whatever you decide, we’ll figure it out. You’re not in this alone. We’ll make it work, just like we are right now. I just know that if we continue with how things are right now, life will happen. You’ll miss the clinic appointment and with how much you like my cock inside you... we'll end up having a baby. And not that I don’t want children with you—because I would have put a baby in you a long time ago—I want us to be ready.”
