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Félix sat at the end of one of the couches in the living room. Pepa sat at the other, long legs stretched across the cushions to rest her feet in her husband's lap. They were reading, but Félix hadn’t taken in so much as a sentence the entire evening. He was glaring across the courtyard, straining very hard to hear any sounds of indecency coming from the kitchen where his daughter and her boyfriend were having coffee after finishing the dinner clean up.
“Amor, they’re not doing anything wrong,” Pepa kept her eyes on her book, her voice soft and reassuring.
“I don’t hear anything,” Félix grumbled. “They could be getting up to anything!”
“You don’t hear anything because they are speaking quietly so they don’t hurt Dolores’ ears.”
He picked up his book again, expression still sour. “I still say we should be watching them.”
“We are not going to spy on our daughter,” Pepa turned a page. When Félix had brought up the idea of chaperoning Dolores and Mariano’s courtship Pepa had laughed, but quickly started thundering when she realized he was serious, offended on their daughter’s behalf. He knew he wasn’t going to win, but brought it up as often as he dared.
“You know, I think I’ll make us some coffee, too.” He made to get up, but Pepa held him in place, pressing her feet more firmly into his lap.
“No, you won’t.” She didn’t even look up from her book. He made a noise like he wanted to argue, but picked up his book again. If he’d had her gift, it certainly would be thundering.
The young couple strolled arm in arm out of the kitchen just then, Mariano boldly leading them toward the living room.
“Good night, Señor, Señora. Thank you for dinner,” Mariano spoke sincerely.
“Neither of us made dinner, hombre,” Félix said derisively. Pepa nudged him with her foot.
“Señora Julieta has my thanks as well. I thank you for the company, and for allowing me to spend time with Dolores,” Mariano was undeterred, and smiled warmly at all three of the Madrigals in turn.
Félix only grunted in reply.
Dolores looked pleadingly at her mother. “You’re always welcome here, Mariano,” Pepa told him warmly. “We hope you can come again soon. Give our regards to your mother and grandmother.”
“Sí, Señora, thank you, I will.” He gave a slight bow and let Dolores lead him towards the front door. Félix glared after them the whole way. He sat rigidly staring at the front door, making sure the couple's goodbyes didn't take so long that they could become untoward. Pepa idly wondered if he would bolt out the door and tackle the younger man if Dolores didn’t return in a time frame he deemed reasonable. She kept her feet firmly planted on his lap just in case.
Fortunately, their daughter did return. Pepa didn’t miss the dreamy smile on her face, or the way it slipped when her eyes fell back on her father, once again pretending very hard to read the book in his hands. Dolores wandered back to the living room, hands clasped nervously in front of her. She looked as though she might say something, but instead just moved close enough to brush a kiss to Félix’s cheek.
“I’m going to bed. Te amo, Papá.”
Félix did his best to not look cross. “Good night, mi vida.”
Pepa reached for her daughter’s hand, squeezing as she kissed her cheek. “Good night, Mamí.” As she pulled back, Dolores flicked her eyes to her father and then back. “Help!” she mouthed, eyes pleading once more.
Pepa smiled reassuringly, and nodded her goodnight.
As Dolores left, Félix slumped back in his seat, all but pouting now that the subject of his irritation had gone home.
Pepa rearranged herself to sit next to him on the couch, feet tucked under her. “Amor, you don’t have to be so hard on him.”
He kept his eyes on his book. “I disagree.”
“He’s very nice. Very polite. Dolores likes him very much.”
“Is that supposed to be enough?”
“Enough to give him a chance.” His only response was a humph. “You never minded him before. You actually seemed to like him.”
Félix was indignant. “I liked him?” Félix was a jovial man, easy going and friendly, he got along well with most people, and Mariano was certainly inoffensive enough. When he was betrothed to Isabela, Félix was willing to welcome him into the fold, ready to show the younger man the ropes of the Madrigal husbands club. “When did I like him?” he demanded.
“Before–”
But she couldn’t even finish her sentence before Félix jumped off the couch, causing her to nearly tip over as she’d been leaning on him. “Exactly!” He paced back and forth across the room, gesticulating wildly. “Two minutes ago he was proposing to our niece! She breaks it off and he’s making eyes at her cousin?”
“That’s not fair. Everything about his and Isabela’s relationship was arranged by Mamá and Señora Guzman.”
“That’s not any better! He was going to marry someone he didn’t love!”
Pepa wouldn’t point out that Isabela had nearly done the same thing. They both thought they were doing what was best for their families. “He’s following his heart now.”
“His heart? Or another organ?” He muttered, continuing to pace furiously.
She rolled her eyes. “Dios mio, Félix, do you hear yourself?” Mariano had always been the very picture of a proper gentleman.
“I’ve been a young man, Pepa, they have one thing on their mind!”
“I remember having the same on my mind with you, amor,” she pointed out.
“That’s my point! She’s my baby girl!”
“Lola is a good girl, she has a good head on her shoulders. I trust her.”
“I don’t trust him!”
Pepa decided to try another tack. “What would you have done if Mamá hadn’t approved of you?”
Félix rounded on her stubbornly. “Respected her authority!”
Pepa wanted to argue that; there was no way Félix would have given up so easily, but that wasn’t the point she was trying to make. She nodded. “Yes. And what would I have done if she hadn’t approved of you?”
The wind went out of his sails then; he knew she had him. “…Probably snuck around behind her back.” He slumped back down next to her on the couch.
She nodded again, sliding her arms around his neck. “Yes. Because I loved you, and I wouldn’t have let anything stand in our way.”
“Hmph.”
“Dolores is my daughter too, amor. She’s quieter about it, but she’s just as stubborn.”
Félix knew she was right. When she wanted something, Dolores had always quietly found a way to get it, from extra bedtime stories to later curfews. “Hmph. You’re only defending him because he’s so handsome.”
Pepa knew she had gotten through to him and couldn’t resist some teasing to try to cheer him up. “You think he’s handsome? Are you hoping he’d court you instead?” He glared weakly at her.
She pretended to consider it. “I suppose he is handsome, objectively. But he’s not really my type.” She slid her hand across his chest, letting her fingers slip into the opening at the top of his shirt.
“What is your type?” He asked, still sulking, but leaning into her.
“Hmm. Not so tall for starters. A body built for working and dancing. Dark hair that’s juuuust a little gray. So he looks distinguished.” She ran her fingers gently through the hair at his temple. He caught her hand with his and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. He smiled at her and she continued. “Eyes that sparkle at me. Just a few wrinkles from laughing. And big.”
“Big?” Félix raised an eyebrow at her.
Pepa hummed warmly. “Big hands.” She brought his to her lips. “Big arms to catch me. Big shoulders to hold me up.” She danced her fingers up his arm to cup his cheek. “Big smile. Big laugh. Big love.” She kissed him lightly.
“Big love.” He repeated, spellbound by her.
“For his wife. His family. His home. Big heart.” When he moved to kiss her again, she pulled back. “Big heart that can give anyone a chance.”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “She’s my baby girl.”
“She’s a young woman. And she looks at him the way I look at you.”
Félix sighed again. “I’ll try not to be so hard on him.”
From upstairs they heard a soft but very excited squeak.
Pepa grinned and kissed him again. “You make us both so happy.”