Ray stood in front of the bedroom mirror in nothing but his underwear. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his muscles were relaxed but ready, as if his body had not yet decided whether this was a domestic evening or a combat situation.
In his right hand was a tailored charcoal suit. The kind of suit that said responsible, employed, will absolutely not disappoint your daughter.
In his left hand was a casual outfit. Dark jeans and a plain fitted shirt. The kind of outfit that said this is me at home.
Ray stared at his own reflection like it might suddenly offer tactical advice.
It did not.
What it offered was a man who had taken down killers, terrorists, mercenaries, and flashers, now completely paralyzed by the idea of meeting Rosa Diaz's parents.
He ran a hand through his hair.
"Suit or casual," he muttered to himself. "Suit says I respect you. Casual says I am not hiding anything. Suit says future son-in-law. Casual says boyfriend who might disappear into the night."
Behind him, Rosa lay sprawled across the bed on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, legs lazily kicking in the air. She watched him like a lion watching a very competent but deeply stressed gazelle.
She took in the view without shame. 'Still got 40 minutes or so. Should I blow the stress out of him? Maybe a quick fuck? Oh, he looks so cute when flustered. I wanna kiss him.' And too many naughty thoughts were running through her head.
"You know," she said lazily, "most people put clothes on before having an existential crisis."
Ray did not look away from the mirror. "Your parents are arriving in forty minutes."
"Yeah."
"I do not know what they like. Or dislike. Or how they feel about me. Or how they feel about us living together. Or how they feel about anything."
"Correct."
"You also made me promise not to research them."
"Also correct."
Ray finally turned his head slightly. "Why?"
Rosa shrugged, smug and unbothered. "Because it would ruin the fun."
Ray stared at her. "You are enjoying this."
She smiled wider. "You bet I am."
Ray exhaled sharply. "I do not know what to wear."
Rosa's smile widened. "I vote for this."
Ray looked down at himself. "This is not an option."
"Disagree," she said. "My mom would respect the confidence. My dad would be uncomfortable. Which I enjoy."
Ray turned around. "Rosa. I am serious."
"So am I," she replied lazily. "But fine. You can put on pants."
Ray took one last look at himself, then decisively dropped the suit onto the chair.
"Casual," he said. "But upgraded casual."
He pulled on the dark jeans, then paused, eyeing the plain shirt. 'Humm... Too plain.' He swapped it out for a fitted button-down dark blue shirt.
Rosa's eyes tracked every movement.
"Good choice," she said. "You look like someone my parents won't immediately assume is hiding bodies."
"That is a low bar," Ray replied.
"Welcome to my family."
They moved into the kitchen together after that, the tension easing into something warmer. Ray focused on precise, almost meditative tasks. Plates aligned, cutlery spaced perfectly, glasses polished twice. Rosa pretended not to notice and then deliberately messed one fork up just to watch him fix it.
She leaned in while he adjusted the centerpiece and kissed the corner of his mouth.
"Focus," he said, without pulling away.
"Multitasking," she replied, kissing him again anyway.
They worked like that.
Rosa sneaking kisses when Ray least expected it. Ray caught her wrist once and pulled her in for a slower one that made her hum approvingly before breaking away.
"Dangerous," she murmured.
"You started it."
"Always do."
At exactly 8:30 PM, the doorbell rang.
Ray stilled.
The sound echoed louder than it had any right to.
Rosa checked her phone. "On time. That tracks."
Ray wiped his hands once on a towel that was already clean, then took a slow breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Like before, breaching a door. He walked toward the door and tapped the small digital screen beside it.
And froze.
The man standing outside was a broad-shouldered, gruff-looking guy like Danny Trejo. And Ray knew that guy very well from his days in the force. Oscar Diaz, Code Name: Machete, was known for his brutal training methods and he trained Ray for a few months on how to survive beyond enemy lines. Not to mention, the kill records...
During one mission, Ray and Oscar were trapped inside a building with limited ammo. So, they did what they had to. Slaughter them all and get to the evac point. That night, Ray saw how Oscar massacred enemies with a handgun and a freakin' machete alongside him as they carved their way out with blood, meat, organs and some brain juice.
Rosa stepped up behind him and lightly patted his back. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Ray said automatically as he opened the door. 'God, help me. Argg! I was expecting Danny Trejo or someone similar to show up and it's that someone similar. Fuck!'
He opened the door with a polite, measured smile that he had used in courtrooms, embassies, and once in front of a man holding a detonator.
"Mr. and Mrs. Diaz," he said warmly. "Please, come in."
Oscar Diaz stepped forward first. He was wearing casual clothes: shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. He looked too calm when he saw Ray. The kind of calm that came from knowing exactly how to end a life with whatever was within reach.
Oscar extended his hand.
Ray took it.
The handshake hit like a warning shot.
A squeeze that communicated several things at once, including I know you, I know how to find you, and if you hurt my daughter or make her cry, I will erase you from existence and sleep very well afterward.
Ray met the pressure without flinching with a smile.
Oscar's eyebrow twitched just a fraction.
"Raymond," Oscar said evenly. "Good to finally meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, sir," Ray replied politely.
They released at the same time.
Rosa watched from behind them with crossed arms. 'Do they know each other?'
Rosa's mother stepped in next.
Julia Diaz was smaller than Oscar, sharp-eyed, and impeccably dressed. Her smile was polite, warm and she looked excited, probably because she never imagined Rosa would get a boyfriend. She kissed Rosa's cheek, then turned her attention to Ray like a prosecutor who already had a conviction.
"So," Julia said pleasantly. "You are the man who won my daughter's heart."
Ray nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
She tilted her head. "Bold."
"Efficient," Ray replied.
Rosa snorted. "He labels his spice rack."
Julia's eyes flicked back to Ray. "Oh."
Ray straightened slightly. "Alphabetized. By cuisine."
Oscar let out a low chuckle before he could stop himself. He covered it with a cough.
Rosa noticed. She always noticed.
"Okay," she said. "Everyone inside. Shoes off or not, I do not care. But if anyone starts interrogating anyone else, I'm bringing out the knives."
Oscar smiled faintly. "Still my girl."
They moved into the house. Ray took coats, hung them neatly, and offered drinks. Water, wine, soda. Oscar declined alcohol. Julia accepted wine and immediately began to look around the house like she was inventorying a crime scene.
"Clean," she said. "Very clean. So, this is your house? Or are you renting this place?"
Ray did not answer right away. Instead, he reached for Rosa's hand and laced his fingers through hers. "This is our house," he said with a smile as he glanced at Rosa, who was trying very hard to maintain her straight face, but he could see the subtle smile.
Oscar's eye twitched. Just a little. It was the same twitch Ray had seen right before violence or approval, and sometimes both.
Julia's eyebrows lifted with clear interest. "Our house," she repeated, tasting the words. "Alright. That answers one question."
Oscar folded his arms. "It raises several others."
Ray nodded. "That is fair."
Oscar studied him for a long moment, then looked pointedly at their joined hands. "So," he asked, "how did you two meet?"
Julia sat on the sofa. "Yes. I would love to hear that story."
Ray turned his head slightly toward Rosa. "Do you want to tell them," he asked evenly, "or would you prefer that I do?"
Rosa did not hesitate. Her face remained neutral, unreadable, as always.
"I will tell it," she said.
She released Ray's hand, stepped forward, and spoke like she was giving a police report.
"I shot him by mistake when I had just joined the NYPD," Rosa said. "It was bad. I nearly killed him. I tried to come clean, but our captain hid the facts and spin it before the media to get more fame."
Julia gasped softly. Oscar did not react at all.
Rosa continued without changing her tone. "He came back for revenge. Instead, he learned the truth. Then we kept getting assigned to the same cases. Life and death situations. A lot of bullets and blood. We spent time together."
She paused, then added, "One thing led to another. Now we live together."
Silence filled the room.
Julia stared at her daughter. "You shot your boyfriend."
"Yes," Rosa said calmly. "Accidentally."
Oscar finally spoke. "And you came back for revenge."
Ray met his gaze without flinching. "Initially, yes. Then I adjusted my priorities."
Oscar nodded slowly, as if that answer satisfied a private metric.
"And you stayed," Oscar said. "After everything."
Ray did not hesitate. "Yes, sir."
Julia stared at Ray. "Why."
Ray met her gaze without flinching. "Because your daughter is honest, loyal, beautiful, terrifyingly competent, and the strongest person I have ever known. Because she owns her mistakes and faces consequences head-on. Because I trust her with my life. And because I love her."
Oscar looked at him for a long moment. Then he turned to Rosa. "Does he keep up with you?"
"Yes," Rosa replied immediately. "He does."
"Are you happy?" Oscar asked.
Rosa gave her rare smile and looked at Ray, "Very."
Julia looked at Rosa with a serious expression. "Did you apologize?
Rosa nodded, "Yes."
Oscar exhaled through his nose, something close to approval passing through his expression. "Good."
Julia pressed a hand to her chest. "This is the most alarming love story I have ever heard."
Rosa shrugged. "It worked."
Oscar glanced around the house again, then back at Ray. "Dinner," he said. "We can talk while we eat."
Ray said. "Of course."
Rosa smirked faintly. "Told you it would be fine."
"You have no idea how fast my heart is beating right now," Ray whispered as they walked toward the dining area. "By the way, you never told me what your father does? You know, work?"
"He's a teacher and he makes the best tacos you've ever had in your life," She replied.
---
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