Depths (25 page)

He pulls away, taps my nose with his fingertip and says, “You’re beautiful. It’s going to be great.” Cohen winks in that adorable/sexy way that makes everything okay in a more personal way than his laugh used to on the other end of the phone. “Ready to get your mexikosher on?”

We turn toward the door and I smooth my tiny, floral skirt just as I notice there’s an elderly woman standing behind the dark screen.

“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, jumping back.

That’s got to be strike one, right?

Cohen chuckles and pulls the door open. “Hey, Nana,” he says, leaning in to kiss the woman on her cheek. “Way to make your presence known. Maren, this is Nana, my mom’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand, but Nana tugs me to her, wrapping her arms tight around me.

“You’re too skinny. But you and my Cohen will make beautiful babies,” she says, grabbing at my hips with warm, bony fingers all decked out in gold rings.

I choke.

“Easy, Nana. You’re going to scare her away,” Cohen laughs. “Let’s get inside and meet everyone else.”

Gulp.

As soon as we walk through the door, it’s chaos. Chaos that smells like heaven. There are people everywhere, dishes full of delicious-smelling food on almost every surface.

“This isn’t all for me is it?” I lean in and whisper to Cohen.

“You’re a big deal. But no, this is every damn week.”

In the kitchen, a woman with dark, glossy hair leans over the counter to set out yet another dish and catches my eye. I recognize her from photos on the company website. Mrs. Rodriguez, Cohen’s mom. I’ve met his dad before, but never his mother.

“Maren?” she says, rounding the corner into the living room. She and Cohen share the same nose, down to the adorable little curve in the bone in the middle. She smiles broadly and it feels like this is actually going to be okay based on that look alone. Mrs. Rodriguez clutches at me the same way Cohen’s grandmother did, and it’s warm, welcoming, and feels like family should. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I can’t believe it’s taken this long. How long have you worked for us?”

“Ma, she’s not here as an employee,” Cohen says, wrapping a protective, sturdy arm around my waist.

Mrs. Rodriguez pulls the dishtowel that’s slung over her shoulder and swats at Cohen with it. “I know that, son, I just meant—oh, never mind. Maren knows what I meant.”

I nod politely. “It’s really nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Rodriguez.”

“Oh, please, call me Dinah.”

“And call me Daddy,” a male voice pipes in at the same time I feel his arm slip around me and shove Cohen’s away.

“Deo, don’t start off being an asshole,” Cohen says, shaking his head. “Maren, this is Deo. My best friend. Apparently, I wasn’t the smartest kid. I picked this one pretty much before we could walk and haven’t been able to ditch him since.”

“Please. I have the legs of a Rockette. You’d miss them if you ever left me,” Deo says, pulling his board shorts up to expose his lean, tan legs.

I love him already. I love how he jokes and loosens up the straight lines of Cohen. I love how in the two minutes since I’ve met him, I already know that Deo is just as much Cohen’s family as the rest of the Rodriguez clan.

Who, I realize suddenly,
all
have their eyes set on me.

I channel my panic into smiling widely at the Deo as he keeps speaking. “And this is my much, much better half, Whit.”

He pulls a gorgeous girl with serious eyes but an easy smile into his side.

“Hi,” Whit says, ducking out from under Deo’s arm and giving me a small wave. “I’m so glad you came. Deo’s been chomping at the bit to meet the new girl Cohen’s been laying pipe with.”

I can feel myself turning a shade of red that matches the paint on the accent wall as Cohen reaches over to intertwine his fingers with mine, steadying me.

“Whit, really?” Deo says, grinning. “Exposing our classlessness the first time you meet the girl? You’ve been hanging out with my mother way too much lately. That’s clear as the awful sex euphemisms in your normal conversations. Apologies, Maren.”

“Sorry, Maren, but if you hang out with us jerks long enough, you’ll see that’s just the way we are.” Whit shrugs. “And also, I’m so, so glad you didn’t get that douche’s name tattooed on you. And we really, really are glad you’re here.”

I snort-laugh. “I’m glad, too. For all of those things.”

“Table! Food’s getting cold!” Mrs. Rodriguez calls.

The rest of Cohen’s family is charming. I’ve met Genevieve once before, Cece is a doll, exactly the way Cohen has described her and someone who I’d love to get to know better, and Lydia I think will be a completely decent human being once she gets laid. She’s polite, but sort of resembles that damn grumpy cat hating life on all of those memes.

The food is delicious. Carnitas and rice and all sorts of things I didn’t even know could be made kosher.

“Maren, I wanted to thank you for the excellent order of the rugs last week. We sold every one of them and still had additional orders after sell-out. Incredible,” Cohen’s dad says.

I love how the two of them look side-by-side. Cohen is a taller, younger version of his dad without the neatly combed black moustache.

“You’re so welcome. Glad I could help.” I can hardly chew around my smile.

“Pop, let’s not talk shop, okay?” Cohen sighs and squeezes my knee under the table.

His dad huffs and shakes his head. “I was just saying—”

“I got a promotion!” Lydia interrupts in a squeal. “I’ve been trying to keep the news in until they wrote a press release, because, then it’s so much more
real
, and then Enzo didn’t show again today, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you guys any longer! I made junior partner! Can you believe that? The youngest one in firm history.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since I’ve been here, and it’s radiant.

“What? When did this happen?” Mrs. Rodriguez asks. She claps her hands to her face and her eyes fill with tears of pride. Mr. Rodriguez tosses his napkin onto the tabletop, then rounds the table to kiss Lydia on the temple. It’s a beautiful moment. Except for the furtive glances across the table between Cohen and Cece.

I reach under the table and run my palm across his thigh, and he covers my hand with his. Something is up. 

“Good job, sis,” Genevieve says.

“Cheers,” Whit says, tipping her bottle of Corona back.

“Thank you,” Lydia says, smoothing her hair and setting her face back to what I gather is its usual, miserable expression. “I’m hoping with the extra money I’ll be making, I’ll be able to afford to move back closer to you all. I mean, I didn’t fall into a small fortune, so I probably won’t be able to swing a place on the water like some people, but I hope to still be close.”

I feel Cohen squeeze my hand tighter, but he doesn’t give Lydia the satisfaction of a response to her passive-aggressive dig.

Deo clucks his tongue and wags his finger in Lydia’s direction. “Aw, c’mon, Lyd, don’t be all angry because Cohen and I have mad diving skills. We worked—”

Cohen finally looks up. “Deo it’s fine. Happy for you, Lydia.”

“Well, I think it’s time I get the desserts, don’t you?” Mrs. Rodriguez says, standing and smoothing the apron that’s tied around her waist.

“Ma, wait just a second. Sit,” Cohen says.

Something is definitely up.

“I’m glad Lydia brought up my good luck, because if it weren’t for that dive, I wouldn’t be able to live where I do, or drive the car I do, or be able to take care of this woman the way I hope she lets me,” Cohen says. Everyone at the table turns to look my way. An involuntary chill quakes through me at his words. “I especially wouldn’t be able to do any of that if my only income was from the shop.”

“We know that, son. We appreciate your hard work.” Mr. Rodriguez’s words are firm. He means what he says.

“Please, I do most of the work,” Genevieve laughs. Cohen shoots her a quick glare and she straightens her smirk. “I was just kidding, geez.”

“My point is, that money from the dive isn’t going to last forever. And I can’t live the way I want to live, and be who I want to be professionally working at the store.” Cohen’s jaw is set and his mouth is just a slice across his face. He’s not enjoying delivering this news.

And I’m pretty much too shocked to react. Rodriguez’s without Cohen?

My throat tightens when I think about what my day-to-day will be like without him.

I glance around the huge oval table and watch the elated smiles that glowed from Lydia’s news melt right off of the Rodriguezes’ faces.

“Are you really doing this right now?” I lean in and whisper.

“So, what are you saying? Do you need time off to go on more dives?” Mr. Rodriguez’s voice is tight.

Cohen shakes his head. “I’m saying that I have an interview with an accounting firm in LA. They’d let me telecommute most of the time, the starting salary is amazing, especially considering what the economy is like right now—”

“You don’t have to tell us what the economy is like, Cohen,” his mother says, her voice fluttering. “That’s why you offered to help us in the first place. Because sales aren’t what they used to be and having to hire outside of the family…you just…you have so much. And you’re just going to leave us?”

Cohen stares down at his plate, and then lifts his eyes, his expression determined. “What about Enzo? Why can’t he ever step up?”

Mr. Rodriguez is scary quiet. I’m not even sure he’s breathing. His face is red, his livid eyes trained on Cohen.

“He isn’t qualified like you, Cohen! He wouldn’t know the first thing about how to run our store! That’s our family business you’re talking about. Don’t you care about that?” His mother slaps a palm on the table and we all jump.

“I know, Ma. I wanted to help, and I think I did. I put a lot of years in, and things are running really well. I’d be happy to stick around and train whoever takes my place. But right now, now, I need to get my own life straight. It’s just time.” He nods like he’s hoping everyone else will nod along and get what he’s trying to say.

All eyes on the table shift to me again.

Crap.

“I think…I think I should step out,” I say, my voice gasping out like I just finished a sprint.

Cohen clutches onto my forearm, but I pry his fingers off and storm out the front door without looking at him.

I can’t
believe
he didn’t warn me about this.

I can’t believe he brought me into this today, knowing how it would go.

I can’t believe he’s been looking for a job, and never mentioned it.

He’s always been so focused on me and my dad; he never told me how he felt about his own family situation. This whole thing is bullshit, and I feel so blindsided, I’m shaking.

“Don’t think that’s because of you, in there.” Deo’s voice scares the crap out of me. When I turn, he’s sneaking up behind me and taking a seat on the wicker chair next to mine.

“Of course it is. It’s all about me,” I say, tugging the band out of my hair and letting it fall free onto my shoulders. It’s a habit when I’m frustrated: it’s like my equivalent of breaking something. “It’s like he had to prove to me that change is easy because I’m so scared of making it in my own life.” I run my fingers through my hair, feeling shut-down with frustration.

Deo shakes his head and takes a sip from his beer, and I wonder why I’m spilling all of this to a virtual stranger.

“Nah, Cohen’s been wanting out of there for a while. You just gave him the push. You gave him the reason.”

“I knew I’d screw things up. I knew I’d just complicate things for him. That family…that family is amazing. They all love each other so much and now look at them. They’re probably in there screaming because of me.”

I point to the front door of the house that was filled with so much love and happiness. Before Cohen brought me in and dropped his ‘life-changing’ bombshell. He doesn’t realize what he’s throwing away.

And he has no idea how lonely and full of regret he’s going to be about this. I could tell him all about that.

Deo’s laugh breaks through my misery. He shakes his head, his eyes crinkled at the sides from smiling so hard.

“Come on, all families fight, right? Even my hippy-dippy mom rides my ass some days. Trust me, I’ve known the Rodriguezes my entire life. They fight hard. They fight dirty. And yeah, Cohen is probably in there saying things he’ll wish he didn’t tomorrow. But tomorrow, it won’t matter because you’re right: they are tight as hell and there is not a damn thing in this world that’ll ruin them. Trust me. It’ll blow over.”

Deo’s words are reassuring to a degree, but I still feel a huge knot pitted inside me. “I just feel like it’s my fault.”

Deo waves that off like I’m being crazy. “Cohen is doing this because he wants to. Because he wants
you
. Dude’s crazy about you. Why do you think he went to talk to your dad? He wants you both to have a fresh start.”

I jerk back and feel my mouth fall open. Are there any other goddamn surprises I need to know about before this hellish evening is over?