Work Text:
Luciana blows a wild dark curl out of her eyes with a little impatient huff and wipes off the fat drops of sweat that have accumulated on her brow.
The sun burns high in the sky over her head, harsh and unforgiving around this time of the year, but she pays it no mind. Around her the Paraná’s muddy waters stretch and reflect the sunlight with bright blinding dancing sparkles. It would make a lovely view, if Luciana wasn’t knee-deep into the river diligently scrubbing laundry, the water around her brimming with soap and bubbles.
She straightens up, slow and careful, and can’t help but to let out a grunt under her breath as her lower back protests in pain. She reaches back and rubs at the sore spot, at the feeling of one stinging burn mercilessly piercing through her.
“You just probably lay off a few clients,” Jacinta comments.
She studies Luciana from the cool shade of a ceibo right by the riverbed, calmly sipping some mate as her own laundry hangs to dry under the scorching sun. She takes a loud sip from the straw and glares at Luciana with dark disapproving eyes.
Wife of an alcoholic gambler and mother of six, Jacinta is a woman with a harsh temperament and very little patience - yet she is one of the few kind souls Luciana has met since she arrived in town a few months ago, alone and broke and exhausted from a long journey from her homeland. When everyone in town turned their backs to Luciana, Jacinta had immediately taken her in, no questions nor judgment. She had offered her a place to stay, a roof over her head, a bed to rest and free meals in her stomach. She had shown her kindness when no one else had, had shared what she had to offer when she barely had to spare for herself and her own children. And for that, Luciana is most grateful.
The world is an unforgiving place and the unlucky need to look out for each other , Jacinta liked to say.
As kind as she might be, right now she is glaring in Luciana’s direction with a deep frown and motherly disapproval. Luciana would be more than intimidated if she hadn’t grown used to those harsh eyes already.
She lets out a tired breathless laugh and sends a daring humorous smile Jacinta’s way.
“So you can steal my clients from me?” Luciana shoots back. “I don’t think so!”
Jacinta huffs back at her and takes another loud judgeful sip of her mate, immune to Luciana’s cheerful act.
Luciana might laugh and joke all she wants, but the two of them know Jacinta is right; Luciana does have more clients than she can handle. But the truth is she can’t dispose of them. She might end up exhausted and beaten by the end of the day, her hands might be hard and raw from all the scrubbing and her bones and muscles might ache with the effort of beating and carrying her clients’ laundry, but there are not many alternatives for women such as herself in need of providing for themselves.
“Well then, here’s an excuse for you to take a much needed break,” Jacinta says and nods her head to the side: “Your boyfriend’s here.”
The lonely figure of a rider makes its way to their little spot by the Paraná closing the distance in a swift gallop. Luciana barely needs to spare a glance in its direction to easily recognise and roll her eyes at Jacinta.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she answers with an annoyed childish huff.
Martín is a peon from one of the biggest cattle farms close to town, a gaucho that spends all day on his mount herding cows across the wide green pampas. Despite Jacinta’s bold claim, he simply is one of Luciana’s many clients.
Martín slows down his march once he reaches the ceibo and jumps off the saddle of his mount - a sturdy pinto as temperamental as his owner - with the ease and swiftness of one raised on the back of a horse.
“Evening, Mrs Jacinta,” Martín takes his hat off and places it over his chest as he sends her way a charming smile. “Looking lovely on this fine day.”
Jacinta is not one for flattery, and she impatiently clicks her tongue at him, unimpressed. Martín doesn’t mind; he has never been bothered by Jacinta’s coarse front and he isn’t here for Jacinta anyways. His eyes drift towards Luciana and they lighten up at the sight of her.
“Miss Luciana,” he nods in her direction with the widest cheekiest of smiles.
Luciana can’t help but to smile back at him, charmed despite herself. She watches him approach and walk into the river showing little care for the water that laps at his legs and soaks his pants. She smirks pleased and lets him slide an arm around her waist and pull her in for a sweet tender kiss.
Well, perhaps Martín is a little more than one of Luciana’s many clients.
Luciana smiles against his soft lips and curls her arms around his neck. Encouraged, Martín pulls her even closer, and Luciana giggles inside the kiss. She pulls apart after a moment and makes a dramatic face.
“You stink,” she accuses as she scrunches her nose.
Martín smells strongly of sweat, both his own and his horse’s. It is a smell Luciana is familiar with and that she works hard to wash off his clothes, for it is not a particularly pleasant one.
“You’d stink too if you spent all day working under the blazing sun,” he answers, unabashed.
“But I have been working under the blazing sun too,” she counters back, tilting her chin up challengingly.
Martín snorts dismissively at her and a smirk curves the corner of his lips - very smug, very handsome, very annoying .
“Please, you call that work?” he has the nerve to snort. “All you laundresses do is soak some clothes in the river and sit back to watch them dry. Barely any effort at all if you ask me.”
“Now hold on a minute, boy…” Jacinta growls angrily from under the ceibo’s shade.
“Is that so, uh?” Luciana asks, raising an eyebrow at him.
Martín smugly smirks back down at her, silently inviting retaliation. So Luciana carefully unwraps from his embrace; once she is free, she unceremoniously shoves him back. Martín’s eyes go wide in his way down, and he ungracefully disappears under the river’s foamy waters with an undignified yelp before Lucana’s eyes.
“Atta girl!” Jacinta cackles loudly and slaps her thigh in a fit of laughter. “Serves him right!”
Martín remerges in a fit of cough, breaks the river’s surface spitting bubbles of soap. His long hair falls around his face and over his eyes giving him the sad appearance of a soaked dog. It draws a triumphant laugh out of Luciana, and now it is her turn to smile smugly down at him. Martín shakes his head - very much like a dog indeed - and looks up at Luciana with a stunned expression. Then, a wide wicked smirk splits his face in half and his eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint.
“Oh, no,” Luciana lets out a breathless little gasp.
She lets out a squeak and gathers her skirt up in a bundle and heads for the hills. She tries to run back to dry land, but Martín is fast and has the very unfair advantage of owning long arms and even longer legs. He catches up quickly and closes his arms around Luciana, who tries to break free between giggles. Martín kisses her cheek, a chaste apologetic peck, and effortlessly picks her up bridal-style.
“Wait, don’t!” Luciana cries between giggles and clings to Martín’s soaked shirt as he marches back towards deeper waters with very clear intentions. “Don’t, Martín, don’t you dare!”
Martín very much ignores her. He walks into the river until the water reaches his waist, until it reaches Luciana as well. Luciana clings to Martín and kicks her legs in the air between curses and giggles when the water crashes against her and washes over her shoulders soaking her completely.
“Why, you-” she squeals, but before she can curse at him Martín kisses her lips.
Despite herself, Luciana can’t help but to smile against his lips. She reaches up and cradles his face with gentle hands, and she opens her mouth to his. The kiss of mate and cheap tobacco - tastes of Martín.
It also tastes of soap.
“Better,” Luciana says when she pulls apart.
“You saying I needed a bath?” Martín asks with a teasing smile.
“I think I was pretty straightforward about it, actually,” Luciana answers mirthfully and unapologetically.
Martín smirks at her and joins their lips for another kiss. Now that he has had his revenge and both are properly soaked, he turns around and heads back to dry land. He doesn’t bother to put Luciana down and insists on carrying her all the way. Luciana has to roll her eyes at him - it is a little ridiculous, but then again this is Martín. She shouldn’t except any less.
“You two lovebirds done fooling around?” Jacinta asks.
“Just getting started,” Martín answers, and Luciana slaps his chest with a grimace. “Was actually hoping to take it somewhere else…”
Jacinta huffs in annoyance, but she is doing a poor job at keeping a fond smile down. She might play hard, but she doesn’t fool neither Martín or Luciana. She has a weak spot for the two of them.
“We’ll be back soon,” Luciana promises.
“Yeah, yeah, heard that one before,” Jacita grumbles and shoos them away with a hand. “Off with you two now…”
Jacinta doesn’t need to tell them twice.
Martín helps Luciana up the saddle of his horse, makes sure she is secure before letting her go. Luciana sits side-saddle, firm in place, and watches as Martín swiftly climbs right behind her. He curls one protective arm around her, securing her against his body, and she comfortably leans back against his broad chest. Martín kisses the top of her head in answer, and then he gives his horse a little touch with his heels.
And off they are.
“Got a surprise for you,” Martín comments, and Luciana perks up with interest.
“Do I get any hints?” she asks.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” Martín replies mysteriously.
It is a slow, unhurried ride. Martín makes sure to keep a light steady trot, as if he had no rush or were handling delicate cargo.
“I’m not made of glass, you know,” Luciana informs as she gives him a playful smirk over her shoulder.
Martín smiles down at her.
“You just sit back and enjoy the ride,” he says.
She lets out a dramatic sigh but ultimately leans back against Martín’s solid body and watches the beautiful scenery. As they ride down a narrow dirt road, she takes in the views of endless green pampas stretching as far as the eye can see. The sun still shines bright over their heads, but a nice breeze has picked up and Luciana takes a deep breath of fresh air. The horse’s gentle pace, the strong body behind her, the breeze on her face and the lovely sight - it all makes a wonderful experience that brings a smile to her face and a fluttering warmth inside her chest. They might ride forever like this, just the two of them, and Luciana would be more than content.
They cross a few people down the road, and Martín tips his hat and greets them with a friendly smile. They greet him back just as warmly, until they catch sight of Luciana. Then, a harsh disapproving frown takes over the friendly demeanor.
Luciana is used to the negative attention. It is all she has known for the past months. But it feels different when Martín is by her side, when the disapproving gazes drift from her to him. It makes Luciana’s heart drum angrily inside her chest, makes her glare back defiantly and protectively. Whatever reservations these people might have about her, it is unfair they drop them on Martín simply because he hasn’t chosen to turn his back at her like the rest of the town has done.
Martín acts as if he doesn’t notice the way the townsfolk’s attitude seems to drastically change when they spot Luciana at his side. Luciana wonders if he is a good actor or if his ego has blinded him and he truly can’t see nor hear the quiet disapproving mumbling they leave in their wake.
After what is quite a long ride, they eventually reach whatever destination Martín is taking them towards.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs.
Luciana gives him a cheeky smile, but obeys. They continue a little longer, and she is starting to doze off, lulled into sleep by the soft rocking of the horse’s steady trot, when Martín brings their march to a stop.
“We there?” she asks.
“Yes,” Martín answers. He warns then; “No peeking.”
“No peeking,” Luciana agrees.
“I mean it,” he insists.
“You think I’d cheat?” she demands and it gets her a loud bewildered laugh from Martín.
“I know you would,” he answers.
“I just might now, for that,” Luciana huffs back, but she does keep her eyes closed.
Martín kisses the top of her head before he jumps off the horse. Once on the ground, he takes Luciana’s hands and places them on his shoulders as anchor; then he takes her hips between his wide strong hands and helps her slide off the saddle to delicately place her on her feet very much like one would help a child down.
Luciana stands with closed eyes and a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Now?” she asks.
“In a moment,” Martín promises.
He delicately curls an arm around her shoulders and takes her hand in his. He carefully leads her path and she blindly follows after him.
“Now,” Martín brings them to a stop. “You may open your eyes.”
Luciana obeys, and her smile drops altogether at the sight before her.
Luciana and Martín stand side by side before a little adobe rancho with a veranda on the front. It stands in the middle of the open countryside, embraced by a couple of trees that stand tall around it and offer some shade and shelter.
“Martín…” Luciana holds her breath.
“Hold that thought,” Martín begs with a smile and squeezes her hand encouragingly. “Wait ‘till you see inside, come.”
He tugs at her hand and Luciana helplessly follows him inside. The place looks smaller inside as the four adobe and the low hay roof seem to close in around them. There is an old beaten kitchen, one wooden table and three stools, all different from each other in size and shape. A bed lays in a corner, and then there is nothing else.
“It’s a bit of a fixer upper, I know,” Martín rushes to fill Luciana’s stunned silence. He seems a little abashed, but a hopeful glint in his eyes lights up his face. “It needs work, but it’s a nice start, isn’t it?”
Luciana looks around with wide eyes and dread building up inside her chest.
“Martín,” she forces herself to whisper. “Where did you get the money to buy this place?”
Martín doesn’t lose his smile, but it grows tense on the corners.
“That doesn’t matter,” he replies.
But it does matter. Luciana knows the answer, and it does matter.
Martín’s head is filled with wild dreams. He has a vivid imagination and voracious curiosity, and dreams to see the world. Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, Rome, Paris, even London... Luciana had sat countless of times by his side and rested her head on his shoulder as she listened to him ramble about all the big cities he would get to see once he managed to save enough money to leave this little town. His whole face would lit up as he went on about the adventures the future held for him, and the excitement in his eyes had made Luciana’s heart flutter with shared joy.
He had been saving for it. He had told her he had been saving money since he was a child to buy his ticket out. He earned little and had worked hard for it, and now it is all gone. All of Martín’s life savings are gone, wasted on a lousy place that can barely be called a home.
And Luciana knows exactly who he did this for.
“Martín…” she laments feeling her chest grow tighter.
“It was just money,” Martín interrupts her hurriedly. He steps forward and takes her hands in his. He holds her gaze with a small smile without an ounce of regret. “I don’t care for it.”
But Luciana does care.
“You said you wanted to see the world,” she says.
Now Martín will never get to do any of that. He has built himself a nest to grow roots instead of spreading his wings as he always dreamt to do. And he has done this for Luciana.
“People change,” Martín answers. There is a stubborn glint in his eyes, as if he were daring Luciana to defy him. “I have other dreams now.”
His words don’t ease the dread raging inside Luciana’s heart.
“You shouldn’t have,” she says, and she means it. “Martín, you shouldn’t have…”
Martín smiles down at her and wraps his arms around her trembling form. He holds her close, and Luciana buries her face in his chest.
“I wanted to,” he answers, soft and simple.
She finds that there is only earnest honesty in his words. It doesn’t make her feel any better - quite the opposite, truly.
Martín kisses her hair. He gently pulls back and cleans the lonely tear running down Luciana’s cheeks with his thumb. He pinches her chin softly and guides her face up so she might meet his earnest eyes.
“So?” he prompts with a tentative smile. “What do you think of my new place? Pretty nice, uh?”
Luciana sniffs and looks around one more time.
“I think it’s terrible,” she answers honestly.
Martín laughs.
“It’s a work in progress,” he relents. He squeezes Luciana a little closer, and his smile turns cautious. “Could use a woman’s touch.”
Luciana sniffs again and shakes her head.
“Martín…” she complains in a weak tired whisper, knowing exactly where this is going.
But Martín doesn’t heed her warning.
“This could be your home too, you know,” he whispers back as quietly.
“Please…” she begs helplessly even if she knows there is nothing to stop what is coming.
Martín cups her face. He stares right into Luciana’s eyes, and there is nothing but open raw adoration in his green eyes as he stares into hers.
“Marry me, Luciana,” he asks in a firm whisper.
They have already been over this.
Luciana takes a deep breath and keeps her peace.
“Please,” Martín begs. “Please, marry me...”
Afraid of the answer she might give him if she uses her words, Luciana takes his face between her hands and joins their lips in a sweet tender kiss.
It is the only way to keep her lips from giving the answer clawing at her chest - the only way to distract Martín’s head from such crazy senseless ideas.
Luciana takes Martín to bed and he obediently follows her, helpless to her whims. She shrugs off their clothes between sweet kisses and soft caresses, lies down and spreads her legs for him. They cling to each other and moan and whisper each other’s name as they rock their bodies together until they meet their peak.
They lay side by side, tired yet content. Luciana is more than happy to cuddle against Martín’s warm body; she rests her head on his shoulder and absently caresses his broad naked chest as she stares at his handsome peaceful face. The sight of him, bare and spent and hers , brings a fond lazy smile to Luciana’s face.
As the moment stretches, she can feel Martín drifting into sleep by the slowing rise and fall of his chest. She feels inclined to join him, to close her eyes and let sweet unconsciousness take over her troubled mind, but she fights to keep her eyes open.
After all, this right here is not something Luciana deserves.
She should flee while she still has the chance. She should leave Martín’s side before he wakes up, before he remembers where they left at. She should get dressed and head back to her laundry, back to the same old routine.
Yet she doesn’t want to.
It would be so easy to curl against Martín and join him in his peaceful slumber. So easy to wake up wrapped in his embrace, today and the following day and every single one. She loves him like she never knew a person could love another - and that is the very reason why she should leave before she gives into the feelings tugging at her heart and says some stupid thing she might regret.
Like the “I do” stuck on her chest.
Martín had asked her to marry him, yet again . It is not the first time he asks for her hand and knowing that stubborn head of his, it certainly won’t be the last. Refusing him is proving to be harder and harder each time, but one of them has to keep their feet in the ground. And Luciana loves him too much to have him.
She closes her eyes, and lets out a long tired sigh. She really should leave.
Gathering every last bit of her strength, she places a feather-light kiss on Martín’s chest, right over his beating heart, and forces herself to leave his side. She sits up, however, she doesn’t get too far; a pair of strong warm arms wrap around her and gently pull her against a broad warm chest.
“Leaving already?”
Martín sounds sulky, and Luciana doesn’t blame him. It is not the first time she sneaks out of his bed while he is out cold like - quite the opposite, she never stays. Martín has never held it against her, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to feel bitter about it.
“I should head back,” Luciana answers, but she does nothing to shrug him off. As selfish of her as it might be, she wants to savor this moment just a little longer.
“Your laundry is going nowhere,” Martín replies. He uses her own tactic against her and lets his lips trail down her neck leaving goosebumps in his wake. She sighs and shudders in response. “Stay a little longer...”
“Martín…” she sighs.
“Stay,” he mumbles against her skin. “Please, stay with me, Luciana. Please.”
Luciana sighs and leans back against his touch. His lips are as convincing as his pleas.
“Please,” he carries on. He buries his face in her neck and curls his arms around her tighter. He squeezes her impossible close, as if it hurt him she was no part of him - as if he could push her inside his very ribcage and keep her in there, safe forever. “Please, marry me.”
“Martín…” Luciana begs helplessly. There is no running, not like this. “Please…”
“You haven’t said no,” Martín cuts her off. He sounds childish and stubborn, as if Luciana was being unfair to him. “Every single time I’ve asked, not even once have you given me an answer. If you truly want me to believe you don’t want me back, then you have to say no. Do it and I promise to never ask again. But you have to say the word.”
He says it with a trembling voice, holding her tightly against his chest. He is playing the last card he has to get an answer from her and they both know it. It is one last desperate attempt, one which might cost him everything were Luciana to turn him down.
It is exactly what Luciana should do. She knows Martín means it, she knows he will keep his word. She should reject him and end both their pain once and for all. But she can’t bring herself to. She has managed to hold back the answer stuck inside her chest this long but she is not strong enough to refuse him and send him away. Not when it means losing him forever.
Martín senses the moment of weakness in her hesitation and presses forward.
“Please, you can move in and then you wouldn’t need to work so hard,” he carries on. In the face of Luciana’s silence, the firmness and conviction in his voice has returned. He remains desperate, but also hopeful. “I’ll make sure of that, just give me a chance, please. I can do better for you, I know I can. Please, Luciana, I can take care of you,” he lets his hands trail down her body, and he carefully cradles Luciana’s round swollen belly. “The both of you.”
Luciana closes her eyes and looks away with shame.
Luciana had always been popular with boys in the past. They liked her, and she liked them. They used to make line for her attention, and she had enjoyed every bit of it; the flirting, the dancing, the kissing, the love making. She had had her fun and she had been lucky for a while - until one careless night, what was supposed to be one night of fun and passion took root inside Luciana’s womb.
She had hid it as long as she could, but there was little she could do as soon as her body started changing and she started showing. Her life came down right before her eyes the moment the rumor of her condition spread around her hometown. She lost her job as a maid at a respectable household, for her bosses wanted nothing to do with an unmarried pregnant girl. The boys that had fluttered around her like bees drawn to honey started to avoid her, not wanting to be associated with the child inside her. Luciana carried her shame for everyone to see, growing larger with every passing day, and the faces of the men and women she had known all her life now looked in her direction either with pity or disapproval.
It had been too much to bear, and so Luciana had packed what little she owned and left.
The road had been her home for the following months. She left her hometown, her homeland, and started a new life in a small Argentinean town by the waters of the Paraná river. She hadn’t meant to stay, but traveling was proving to be harder this late into her pregnancy and Jacinta had offered her a place to stay. Alone and forsaken, Luciana would have been a fool to turn her down.
Her arrival had been the object of gossip - a mysterious beautiful foreign girl, heavily pregnant and with no husband in tow -, but Luciana had found she hadn’t minded as much. The glances and whispers had hurt a little less coming from strangers rather than the people who watched her grow. This was a temporary arrangement, she thought to herself. Once the baby arrived and Luciana was back in conditions to carry on she would hit the road and leave town.
She had met Martín a week after she settled in, utterly by chance. She had been heading back to town carrying a basket of clean laundry over her head when she met him on the road. He had smiled and tipped his hat at her and Luciana had smiled back at him. Martín had stopped his horse dead in its tracks at the sight of her smile. He had stared down at her as if dumbstruck, and then he had jumped off his mount and offered to let his horse carry Luciana’s heavy laundry. She had hesitated, but ultimately agreed.
They had made their way back to town side by side, talking and laughing as Luciana hadn’t in a long time. Martín diligently helped her deliver the laundry to her clients, and gallantly offered to escort her back to Jacinta’s place. Luciana had laughed at him but had accepted, pleased and flattered by his attention. She had thanked him for his kindness, but before she could head inside, he had wrapped a gentle hand around her arm.
Martín had hesitated for a moment, struggling to stretch this moment between them a little longer, and he had blurted out he was in need of a laundress. Luciana had stared back at him with wide eyes, but had nodded her head and agreed to go over to the conventillo where he stayed at to pick up his dirty laundry first thing in the morning.
Luciana found Martín waiting for her on her way back to town at the very same spot where they first met the following day. Just like the day before, he had smiled at her and had jumped off his horse to offer to carry her laundry. Together, they had headed back to town, that afternoon and the afternoons to come after that one as well.
Against her better judgment, Luciana had let herself be smittened by him. She had blamed it on the loneliness following her self-imposed exile; she had been the object of desire of every man she knew until her belly grew large and men started avoiding her and her disgrace. Martín had been the first man to show interest in her after a long time, and it had felt so nice to be wanted and desired again. Luciana had been unable to refuse his attention. This had been a game she had always enjoyed, one that she had missed, and she had been more than happy to dance along with Martín - he who had casted a glance to her swollen belly and her ringless finger and still hadn’t cared.
She had laughed and smiled, had teased and refused him, and eventually she had let him have his fun under her skirt. She almost hadn’t expected Martín to seek her again after she gave him the one thing she thought he was after - the one thing a young bachelor could expect from a girl such as Luciana -, but he had returned. Martín had always returned to her side, all bright wide smiles and honest earnest eyes.
It had been meant to be a silly little game, a fun distraction. Luciana hadn’t expected Martín to catch feelings for her - nor her to catch feelings for him.
It is a shame, truly.
It makes her wish she had met him sooner. Things would have been different for them if she had; he would have wooed her, persistent and unfairly charming as he is, and maybe then the child inside her would have been his. Then she would have accepted to marry him and wouldn’t have to deny him over and over again.
“This child is not yours to care for, Martín,” she complains weakly, casting her eyes down.
“They could be, if you let me,” he replies stubbornly. He takes a deep breath. “Please… please, let me, Luciana. Let me be a part of your lives,” he takes a shuddering breath, and carries on; “I know… I’m not stupid. I know I can’t afford… but I work hard, I have a place of my own now, and I promise to love you, the both of you. I can’t offer much, but I promise to make you both happy, if only you give me a chance I know I could...”
He sounds pained. She can’t stand the pain in his voice - can’t stand that Martín might think he is the problem here, that he might think he is not enough for her .
“It’s not you, Martín,” she whispers back.
She would be so lucky to have him…
“Then what is it?” he demands. He raises his face from its hiding spot and faces Luciana with a fierce frown. He sounds cheated, as if Luciana were making a fool out of him. “What is it then?”
Luciana looks away, ashamed.
“You deserve better than me,” she admits in a weak whisper.
It is a simple answer, one that cuts Luciana deep and that Martín needs to understand. He is too stubborn and capricious to see things as they are; Luciana is carrying another man’s child inside her. She will not make a respectable wife - she is a worthless toy, chewed and spat out and ruined. Martín deserves better than some stupid girl who got herself pregnant.
“Is that really what you think?”
There is a harsh note in Martín’s voice, one that makes Luciana look up with surprise - it is the first time she has ever heard Martín’s voice sound cold and unforgiving like this. She stares at his eyes, and she finds fierce certainty in them, unyielding and all consuming.
“Do you really think so little of yourself?” he demands, tilting his chin up pridefully.
She does.
“I want you,” Martín says. His eyes burn impossibly honest and earnest under his frown and he wears a serious determined expression on his face. “I love you, Luciana. I love every bit of you. Is it so hard to believe?”
It is. By God, it is.
“I love you too,” Luciana confesses. Tears run down her face and she trembes like a child, afraid and overwhelmed - she has been holding back these words for so long, she is scared what might happen now that they finally leave her lips. “I love you and I want you too.”
“Let me love you then,” he begs as he meets her gaze with pained pleading eyes. “I’m already yours, Luciana. Please, be mine. Please… marry me.”
She would rather do nothing else. Her heart aches with yearning, swells inside her chest and feels too large for her ribcage. Letting herself want it is hard - but not harder than refusing him as she has until now.
“Yes,” she answers in a shaky whisper.
Martín’s eyes go wide with surprise - Luciana herself can barely believe her own ears. He stares at her, numbstruck. As he finally takes in Luciana’s answer, the widest of smiles takes over his face.
“Would you marry me?” Martín asks again.
Luciana lets out a shaky laugh. It sounds hoarse and breathless, like a strange strangled sob. She sniffs and she can’t help to join Martín’s giddy smile through her tears.
“Yes,” she answers again.She presses her forehead against his, and drinks up the giddy trembling chuckle that comes out of Martín’s lips as her tears mix with the ones that have started to roll down Martín’s cheeks. “I do.”
Martín beams at her through his tears, impossibly and ridiculously bright with glee.
“Would you marry me?” he insists.
“Yes,” Luciana laughs at him. “Yes, I already said yes, you.”
Martín joins their lips in a clumsy childish kiss, and drags her back to bed. He climbs on top of her, and she curls her legs around his waist encouragingly, invitingly. But he seems content to just hold her and shower her face with kisses.
“I’ll have to get you a ring,” he says.
“You don’t have to get me anything,” she replies, and she whole-heartdly means it.
Martín shakes his head.
“I want to get you a ring,” he corrects. He adds; “You deserve a ring.”
Luciana deserves a ring. She deserves Martín, she deserves a home, she deserves this. It is a strange thought, one which Luciana finds she likes. She lets out a sigh, and repeats it to herself hoping to let it sink, to let it become a familiar thought.
Martín kisses her lips, and lets his hands roam down her body. Luciana is hopeful he might let them travel further south for an encore, but they settle on her round belly.
“It’d be just you and me, and little Luciana Jr,” Martín smiles against her lips.
“It’s going to be a boy,” Luciana chips back instantly.
She has no idea, truly, but arguing against Martín is a matter of principles. If he believes Luciana is carrying a girl, then Luciana must argue back that her child certainly is a boy.
As if sensing to be the topic of discussion, the child inside Luciana kicks against Martín’s wide rough palm. Martín’s whole face lights up and he looks up to meet Luciana’s eyes with wonder.
“Did you feel that?” he demands enthusiastically.
“Of course I felt it, you,” Luciana rolls her eyes at him with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
She won’t admit it, but since she started feeling her child move inside her she has noticed they get particularly active when Martín is around. Whether they recognise his voice or they simply react to the way Luciana’s heart beats faster for him, she doesn’t know.
“Do it again,” Martín asks.
Luciana laughs at him.
“I can’t,” she answers. “It’s the baby, I can’t make them…”
“Do it again,” Martín asks again, this time addressing Luciana’s round belly. “Come on, Luchita Jr, do it again…”
The child kicks again, as requested, and Martín beams up at Luciana. He keeps cooing at her belly and encouraging the child to kick. Luciana watches him coo at her belly with a fond smile, running her hand through his long golden hair.
He is going to make a good father, she absently thinks to herself and finds that she likes that thought too. A little family of three, Martín, her baby and herself.
“Enough,” she orders. She closes her hand on Martín’s hair and pulls back, forcing him to look up and meet her eyes. She pouts at him. “I’m already getting a little jealous.”
Martín smiles back at her. He climbs on top of her, carefully resting his weight on his forearms to keep himself from crashing Luciana’s delicate frame. He leans down and joins their lips in a kiss.
“No need to,” he says. “I have enough love for my two favorite girls.”
“It’s going to be a boy ,” Luciana insists with a roll of her eyes.
Martín smugly smiles down at her. The only reason Luciana doesn’t get to start an argument is because he is smart and fast enough to lean down and join their lips in a slow sweet kiss and their hips in a lazy shallow sway before she opens her mouth.
A couple of weeks later, only a few days after their little modest wedding, Luciana loses her bet to Martín when she gives birth to a beautiful baby girl with wild dark curls and the prettiest brown eyes Luciana has ever seen. Martín smirks proudly, but Luciana doesn’t take her defeat at heart: as her husband holds their newborn child with nothing but utter adoration in his eyes, she muses to herself that losing a bet has never felt sweeter.