It’s probably just stress at the idea of the looming confrontation with my father. Ignoring it, I leave the bedroom to search for Natalia.
After checking the kitchen and seeing no evidence of her, I’m even more confused and admittedly a little worried, so I do a sweep of the entire estate. Ten minutes later, I’m agitated with worry and about to start hollering for her, but then I poke my head into the large, well-stocked library. Natalia comes into view as my eyes adjust from the moonlight that illuminates the window-lined halls of the quiet, sleeping estate, her features glowing warm in the dim light of a small table lamp. Her slender neck, elegant profile, and cascades of thick hair wrapped into a fat, messy bun on top of her head cause her to look completely angelic, and a smile creeps across my face. She’s wrapped in an ivory satin robe that conjures images in my mind of what a real wedding might have been like, and all the bad-weird feelings dissipate into a warm sensation that floods my chest.
Snuggled up in an oversized, brown leather chair, Natalia’s legs are tucked under her, and she’s balancing a book on her lap. I’m not much of a reader, and I know none of the books my father has stocked the library with could be considered light, entertaining reading, so now I’m just curious about what’s got her so captivated at three in the morning.
Not wanting to startle her, I light tap the door frame with my knuckles and gently speak into the low light. “Hey, baby doll.”
Natalia casually lifts her head and meets my gaze with a soft smile. “Hola, cariño.”
I kind of love this tendency of hers to opt for Spanish half the time. My family obviously uses our native language frequently, but I’ve never had any kind of affinity for it until now. Natalia somehow makes it seem exponentially more beautiful—andyes, I’m aware that I’m totallyweakfor this woman, to the point that every little thing she does seems infused with pure magic.
Returning her smile, I slip into the library and approach her. “You okay?”
She nods as I reach her and tilts her chin up so I can meet her lips with a soft kiss. “I couldn’t sleep, and then I found your library.” She playfully crinkles her nose at me. “I am a bit of a bookworm.”
“You must be if you found something you like in here.” I ease onto a maroon velvet sofa opposite her chair and prop my elbow on the arm as I wink at her. “And it’s your library, too now, you know.”
Her smile persists as her long, slender fingers absently flip the gold-edged pages, causing them to glint in the lamplight. “It doesn’t really feel that way yet, but I’m hoping that will change over time.”
“It will.” I jerk my chin at the book. “So, what’d you find to read?”
She lifts the book to show me the cover. It’s red leather-bound and features a dragon and Chinese characters in gold print, along with the title and author, Sun Tzu’sThe Art of War.
I can’t help chuckling lightly. “The Art of War, huh? Should I be worried about you killing me in my sleep or something?”
She lets her head fall to one side as an amused smile tugs the corners of her mouth. “Of course,amor.” She coyly lifts one shoulder and presses her hand against the ivory satin at her chest. “Can’t you see how dangerous I am?”
I laugh again because Natalia, with her delicate bones, enticing curves, and short stature, is the furthest thing from threatening. “Yeah, you seem like a real bad apple, lemme tell you.”
Her lips spread away from her teeth in a demure grin as she matches my laugh. “Have you read this book, Joaquin?”
I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t read much. I got enough of that when I was required to go to college.”
“So, this book is not just about strategy in battle,” she explains, turning her eyes back down to the pages in her lap. “It is about strategy in general for effectively and successfully executing any kind of effort. Many people apply the principles to business, which is, I assume, why your father has read it.” Her smokey blue-gray eyes slide back up to my face. “I was revisiting it because I think it can be applied to a successful marriage as well. A good marriage. A healthy one.”
The fact that Natalia is seeking marital advice from a book about war strategy is not only amusing because of the dichotomy, it’s also kind of a turn-on, but it mostly just warms my heart because this marriage obviously matters to her. Our five-day-old, impulsive Vegas marriage matters enough to her that she couldn’t sleep and sought out a dusty, dry, stuffy, old book for advice.
I lift my eyebrows, impressed. “Oh yeah? Give me a battle strategy that can work for marriage.”
She grins wide again, a tiny chuckle slipping from her lips, and flips the pages. “This section discusses essentials for victory, and it says, ‘He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight,’” she reads, lifting her index finger into the air and then looking up at me. “What do you think that means for a good marriage?”
I let my chin sink into my palm, and I know I’m smiling at her like an idiot because all of this is completely enchanting, but I don’t even care. “You tell me. I’m new to this book, remember?”
“And I am happy to teach you.” She winks at me. “In my mind, that sounds like choosing your battles and not getting upset with your spouse over something insignificant. It means to let go of the little things so that you can save your energy and love to address things that can compromise the foundation of the relationship.” She closes the book. “So, for example, I promise to never be a naggy wife that bitches about you leaving the toilet seat up.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I’ll just put it down myself.”
At that, I laugh loudly. “Well, my mamá bitched about that enough while I was growing up that I know better than to do such a thing.”
She returns my laugh with another small chuckle. “But can you see how that sort of strategy can save a husband and wife a lot of frustration with each other?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. So, in return, and since I already know not to leave the toilet seat up, I promise to never… hmm…” I rub my chin and then point a finger-gun at her. “Gripe about you leaving your hair stuck to the shower wall.”
Natalia chortles, bringing the back of her hand to cover her mouth. “I don’t think I’ve done that, have I?”
“Nah.” I cringe at the thought of it. “But my sisters always did. Their friggin’ hair was friggin’everywhere.”
We share another mirrored laugh until it slowly dissipates and leaves us simply smiling at each other, andfuck me.
I’m drowning in all kinds offeels. And these kinds offeelsmake my fucking hearthurt. I didn’t expect falling in love to feel like someone shoving their hand into my chest and squeezing that mother fucker for all it’s worth, but that’s all I can liken the sensation to.
