Dove
I was filled with cake, good food and happiness beyond belief.
That's the only way to describe it. My belly was full of lechón, tostones and tres leches cake — the sewing machine one, which tasted like vanilla and dulce de leche inside — and my heart was full of something bigger. Piquito had fallen asleep in my palm twenty minutes ago and I hadn't put her down. She was a girl, I had learned when Jay whispered it, laughing. My little girl. Piquito.
The sun was starting to set over Bayahibe and the whole beach turned gold. Not my fake party gold, real gold. The sky went orange, then pink, then that deep purple that makes the water look like glass. The palm trees were black silhouettes. The DJ had turned the music down low, from loud dembow to slow bachata, the kind that makes all the old people get up.
