1
Jenna
The past.
“I love you,” I murmur to Julio.He’s a gorgeous specimen of a man, with dark hair, bronzed skin, and flashing blue eyes.Julio is originally from Argentina, and a professional polo player with the body of a warrior.His chest is wide and thick, displaying the requisite six pack of a committed athlete, and his thighs are muscular and powerful from gripping the flanks of a horse.He stares into my eyes, his gaze tender.
“I love you too,mi amor,” he whispers tenderly, gently brushing my golden hair from my forehead.“Te amo, cariño.”My heart flutters as I smile helplessly at the man that I adore because I’ve never felt such joy in my life.Julio was made for me, and I for him, and it feels like our destiny to be together.But there’s one unfortunate catch:Julio happens to be my mom’s boyfriend.
It’s a long tale, and one that I’m not exactly proud of.My dad died when I was just a baby, and my mom was left bereft.It wasn’t easy for Stephanie to raise a child on her own, but she did it, and did a good job too.I know she had a lot of sleepless nights, as well as times when she cried herself to sleep, but Stephanie made it out of the woods and was a wonderful mother despite the challenges of single parenthood.
Even more surprising, my mom blossomed into a stellar real estate agent while caring for me.Don’t get me wrong because she was forced to go back to work.Without my dad’s income, Stephanie had to get a job, otherwise we’d lose the roof over our heads.But my mother took to her new profession like a fish to water, and soon, her calendar was full and her phone was ringing off the hook with calls from clients and potential clients.Plus, I’m proud to say that my mom handles a lot of luxury listings that would blow your mind, such as vast estates that cost eight figures, not to mention historic mansions, landmarked gems, and even huge parcels of undeveloped land that billionaires snap up because they want to “protect the wild.”I’m not exactly sold on their so-called “conservation efforts,” but a sale is a sale, and the money was eye-opening.
Plus, Stephanie is young and beautiful, in addition to being professionally successful.Real estate agents often put up photoshopped pictures of themselves in order to attract business, but in my mom’s case, it was all real.Stephanie is gorgeous, with creamy skin, big blue eyes, and long golden hair flowing over one shoulder.Plus, she wore fitted skirt suits and high heels that showed off her curvy figure while at the same time appearing serious and competent.
She was the envy of her co-workers.Men and women both wanted to date my mom, and I know she had to laughingly set the record straight because she’s one hundred percent hetero.But yes, people of both sexes were entranced by my mother’s charm, and why wouldn’t they be?Stephanie was gorgeous, rich, with a tinkling laugh and a teasing flash in her blue eyes.She was charisma and charm personified, and excellent at her job too.It was a potent mix.
But Stephanie was never one for long-term relationships.Or rather, shedidhave some boyfriends, but I think she never recovered from my dad’s loss.As a result, I don’t think she was interested in tying the knot again, with its requisite diamond rings and ceremonial “I do’s.”Instead, my mom dated a series of handsome men who could pass for male models with chiseled features and the bodies of gods.In fact, I think one of them from years ago literallywasa male model signed to a genuine modeling agency.Ignacio, I think his name was?My mom has a thing for the Latin heartbreakers, and her most recent boyfriend, Julio, is only her latest paramour with a South American background.
But Julio is a good guy.He came into my life when I was entering womanhood, and it started innocuously enough.The three of us would hang out and chat and laugh, and we ate meals together a lot because he was dating my mom.It was a natural fit, and we enjoyed spending time together.But by then, I was a teen girl and coming into a gradual awareness of my femininity.While Stephanie was always a stunner, I was becoming her lookalike –a younger, more beautiful version, that is.I have the same golden blonde hair, wide-set innocent blue eyes, and a body so lush that I have to be careful when buying swimsuits because I don’t want to accidentally bust out of the fabric with my big Double Ds and wide hips.
Julio noticed, too, because what man wouldn’t?I could feel his gaze sizzling along my curves on occasion, although when I turned to look at him, his eyes always darted away with a guilty flush.And the problem is that Stephanie works a lot, as in alotlot.Real estate is a service business, and if your client wants to see a particular property at 7 p.m.on a Sunday night when you’re having dinner with your family, then so be it.Stephanie would get dressed, put on her make-up, and zoom off in her Mercedes sedan at the drop of a hat.It happened a lot too because my mom caters to billionaires who fly into town on a whim, and for whom white glove service is an expectation.But they pay well, and Stephanie understood her role.My mom always showed up with a smile, and never complained about the toll on her personal life.
So yes, Julio and I started to spend more and more time alone together, and our relationship started out innocently enough.We were hanging by the pool when Stephanie was called away by Thomas Igwumu, who was allegedly looking to buy a penthouse somewhere on Billionaires’ Row.Never mind that Igwumu is allegedly a despot in his native country, with a record of heinous humanitarian crimes against his own countrymen.As my mom explained to me, she doesn’t question her clients’ choices outside of real estate because it’s not her place.Her role is restricted to helping them find a beautiful home to fall in love with, and nothing more.
But after Stephanie departed, Julio and I were left alone to sun ourselves.I sipped on a Diet Coke while he enjoyed a frosty Corona, and we made desultory conversation as the aquamarine pool rippled in the afternoon heat.It was a gorgeous day, and our conversation slowly grew more intense as the weather warmed.I revealed how the mean girls at school sometimes bullied me, and how I’d retreat to the women’s bathroom to eat my lunch in one of the stalls.It sounds silly, I know, not to mention gross and unsanitary, but it was a tough situation, and Julio understood my dilemma.
Even more important, he didn’t laugh it off or treat it as a “teenage problem” that would fix itself.Instead, he listened intently and suggested solutions.Maybe I could go to the library, and eat among the cool darkness of the stacks.Or if there was a club I was interested in, say Amnesty International or the Photography Fanatics, I could go to a meeting and eat lunch in a classroom without having to duck and hide in the women’s restroom.
I smiled gratefully because Julio made me feel “seen” with his unwavering attention.Although I’d sort of brought up my problems to my mom in the past, Stephanie was a bit too preoccupied to listen intently, and to take my issues seriously.I was also a little embarrassed to reveal such ridiculous problems to my mom when she’d overcome so much as a young woman, and successfully too.I felt lame and somewhat incompetent by comparison.
But Julio provided a kind ear and broad shoulder to lean on.He was never too busy, and would make time in his day so that we could talk privately.Of course, I was over the moon.I was ecstatic to have a friend, and a handsome one too, who was genuinely interested in my life, no matter how inane or ridiculous the details.As a result, Julio and I grew closer over the next couple months.He told me about the various horses he rode, and how they had personalities of their own, including ones that were alternately grumpy, over-excited, or suffering from gout.He educated me about the history of polo, and described how he grew up playing as a young boy in Buenos Aires, and how much he missed the charm and beauty of his hometown.
Soon, I was spending almost all my free time with Julio, and even started hanging out at the stables where he rode.While I was far too scared to actually get up on a horse, I enjoyed brushing their coats and oiling their tack.I admit, I didn’t love mucking out the stalls, but I’ve never shied away from hard work, and it was fine.Most of all, I loved spending time with Julio, and we grew closer and closer as the months passed.
One evening after the barn had been cleaned and Julio had returned from his shower, we talked a little while looking over Journeyman, a particularly ornery pony.Don’t get me wrong because polo horses aren’t ponies.They’re full-sized equines, which are bred specifically for their speed, stamina, and agility, making them ideal for a fast-paced game on the pitch.This particular pony was often grumpy though, and we didn’t know why.
“Maybe Journey just has a bad personality,” Julio said dryly, in his lightly accented English.
I giggled.
“Is that even possible?Can horses have bad personalities?”
The handsome Argentine grinned at me in the low light of the barn, so gorgeous that my breath caught in my throat.
“Why not?Horses have personalities just like humans, cats, and dogs.”
“I guess so,” I acknowledged with a sweet smile.“I just thought ...well, it’s like human babies,” I explain.“There are no ‘bad babies.’There are merely babies whose needs aren’t met, and so they cry and wail and scream.They’re not ‘bad’ per se.They’re just hungry, or tired, or frustrated, and don’t have the words to express it.”
Julio grinned, one big hand stroking along Journeyman’s gleaming chestnut flank.
“Well, that sounds like a child with a bad personality to me,” he said in a wry tone.“Why, do you think differently?”
I laughed again, so comfortable being together, and incredibly happy in his company.
“There are bad babies!There are bad horses too—”
But then my words were cut off because Julio had leaned forward to catch my startled lips in a kiss.It was intimate, tender, and so beautiful that my heart raced as my insides heated.
