Blog Series - The Cece & Juan Vignettes: Ch 2

Hey, loves! We're back for another chapter of The Cece and Juan Vignettes. As a reminder, at the end of every chapter there will be a couple hundred words written in first person POV, mine, interviewing the character. Since I did that with Catherine in the Companion, I thought it might be interesting to do that again but with Cece ... as she is her mother's child. Haha.

Okay, onto the chapter.

Do you need to catch up on The Cece and Juan Vignettes?

CHAPTER ONE

*

Chapter Two - Juan

Cece POV

Three years old ...

"I can't wait to see you, Cece."

She grinned down at the face of her father staring back at her from the iPad in her lap. The car swayed as it took a turn in downtown Los Angeles, coming out of the roundabout which always made her dizzy after they went around a time or two, but she barely noticed it all while she spoke to her dad.

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

Cross nodded. "Around lunch."

Good.

She missed her da.

"All right, give the tablet back to Ma, and I will call you tonight. Okay?"

Cece nodded. "All right. Loves my daddy, Daddy."

Cross smiled. "Love you, my girl."

Next to her in the back seat, her mother took the tablet from her hands. A quick word passed between her mother and father before the tablet was shut off, and put to the side. By then, Cece had already turned to look out the window at the passing buildings. Familiar to her now, really, because she had driven these streets with her mother and a driver in the front countless times before.

Again and again.

To her, California felt like home, too.

Same as New York.

Soon, they came to a familiar restaurant where her mother always liked to eat if they arrived at a good time, and weren't exhausted coming into town. Because then, Cece wasn't in any kind of mood and her ma liked to say she needed a nap. Even if she didn't want to have a nap. She still had a nap, though.

Her mother only stepped out of the car after the driver--usually it was Miguel, but this week, someone different had picked them up at the private jet strip--came around to open her door. Miguel would usually take Cece out of her car seat, if he was driving them, but today it was her mother.

"Where's my Miggy?"

"Inside," her ma said.

Oh.

"Why?"

"His wife had a last minute thing," Catherine said as though Cece were supposed to just understand what that meant. She really didn't. "And so we had to make other arrangements. But he's waiting inside, and he'll be with us for the rest of the week."

Well, Cece understood and liked that well enough.

"Okay!"

The driver followed them to the front door of the restaurant, and only turned back to return to his vehicle once they were safely inside. Cece was still looking over her shoulder, watching the man leave, as they headed deeper, her mother walking straight past the woman at the podium as though she were important enough to simply walk in and pick whatever table she wanted to eat at that day.

Who knew.

Maybe her mother could.

Someday, Cece would understand that's exactly what it was.

"There's my Cece!"

At the call of her name by a familiar voice, Cece spun her head around fast, finding one of her other most favorite people waiting at the other side of a very busy restaurant. He was already standing from his chair smiling her way, waiting to greet her the same way he always did.

To anyone else, Miguel was terrifying. His size, demeanor, the tone of his voice ... she knew people were scared of him, saw the way they acted around him. Cece, however, wasn't scared of him at all.

Ever.

From the day he became her personal bodyguard, he also turned into her best friend. A playmate. Someone who made it his first mission to make sure she was safe, but having the time of her life doing it.

Catherine let go of her hand, and Cece darted forward, not paying attention to anyone or anything else before she found her way into Miguel's waiting embrace. He hugged her tight, lifting her up to stand her on the seat of the chair next to the table so that she could be a little higher to hug him.

"How was the plane?" he asked.

"Loud."

Miguel laughed loud enough to draw attention. "It always is. So hey, guess what?"

Cece grinned. "What?"

He turned a bit, giving her a better view of someone else sitting at the table that she only then noticed. A young boy, about her age, or maybe a little older. Definitely taller, considering he could actually see over the table without needing a booster seat like she did. The young boy smiled her way, eyes so dark she thought they looked like the sky at nighttime, and his features familiar to her in a comforting way. His hair was just long enough to touch his eyelashes, and curl around his ears.

"Cece, this is Juan," Miguel said, "my son. I had to grab him last minute from his preschool today because his little sister got sick, and their ma had to take her to the doctor. So, he had no one to pick him up from preschool. I thought he might like to come along with me today, maybe you two could play while me and your ma talk, huh?"

"Okay," she said.

The little boy--Juan--smiled.

Cece's heart beat faster.

She smiled back.

"Hi," he said, "Cece."

"Hi, Juan."

*

"Heart on fire," she says.

We're just stepping out of one of her favorite shops in Cali, but the expensive, fine things we left behind in the place, not to mention the stuff in the bags the man behind us carries, is only a background thought while I consider what she said about Juan.

"You think you just knew?"

Cece shrugged. "I think a part of me did."

"Yeah?"

"Something about me knew the moment I looked at him ... Juan was mine."

And I think she's right, if only because the reverence when she says it, and how she says it. As if nothing else could possibly make sense to her, and this is just always what she's known. As much fact as it was truth, and she wouldn't accept another answer.

Maybe she's right.

Maybe soulmates just know.

"And we played all afternoon," she adds, "forgot where we were until our parents came around to let us know it was time to leave."

"That's sweet."

She smiles. "Out of everything, I'm glad I remember that the most."

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