Chapter 2
TWO
LOURDES
Over a year later
Lourdes almost 19; Neo 23
I guess I couldn’t blame my dad for trying to move on. That wasn’t me saying I was okay with his relationship, but after overhearing his conversation with my grandfather, I could feel sympathy for him. The old man became more insufferable after my grandmother passed away.
My sympathies only extended so far. Especially after my grandmother left me only one Birkin in her collection. My grandmother and I never saw eye to eye, especially when she would let comments slip about how my father made a mistake in marrying my mother. In those moments, I found it hard to bite my tongue, so we clashed.
Why did my father marry my mother in the first place? They met in college. My mother was vivacious, intelligent, and opinionated, and my father found her fascinating. She wasn’t anything like the women he was used to, and he married her despite my grandparents' displeasure. She wasn’t part of their social circles, but he was content that they let him have her. He never fought them to give her a place in his world; he was content having her as a standby.
Now, he would marry the perfect “society” lady, if that could be said about Pricilla, and my grandfather approved. Appearances and all. He even took Neo in with open arms. The asshole was great at sucking up to them. I often wondered if it was that he was a boy or if he looked more like him than I did.
I tried not to let it get to me.
My mother once told me he was more stubborn than a mule, but she didn’t let my grandparents bother her, and maybe that’s why their dislike for her had grown because she wasn’t bending over backward to gain their approval—and neither was I.
When I got to the church, I saw three figures standing in the parking lot. I gripped the wheel a little tighter.
I knew he would be here.
Over the years, I had only seen Neo during the holidays. His mother was always a thorn in my side at my house, but he kept his distance. I knew my father went golfing with him—even worse, he enjoyed it.
My father put in effort in being a stepdad, and the only effort Pricilla and I made was not to run into one another.
Neo would be my father’s best man, and I would be Pricilla’s maid of honor. I’m sure she loved that idea.
I parked my cute frosty pink Porsche Taycan a few feet away from where they lounged. I turned off the engine and checked my makeup in the rearview mirror, ensuring nothing had smudged.
Pricilla would be having a lovely surprise when she saw me. The thought almost made me smile. The dress she had picked out for me was horrible and didn’t work for my body. Instead of making me look modest or whatever she wanted to do, I looked frumpy and unkempt. The sleeves and waistline didn’t do me any favors.
I was glad the burgundy color she picked looked lovely against my complexion, so I should be thankful she didn’t try to spring up my dark winter pallet.
My lips were a shade darker than the dress I opted for instead. They matched my nails. My dress had a scoop neckline corset that was tighter on the top and then had warps of satin going to one side where the high slit on my thigh was, which made it perfect to hide my pouch belly.
Oh, and the real kicker was my shoes.
Pricilla often complained that she wished she could wear So Kates, but something about her long-ago foot injury prevented her from gracefully wearing them.
I cried, bled, and cursed myself as I trained and molded my foot to meet the standards of the impossible arch, but I was determined. The look of envy on her face was what kept me going. It took a few months for me to be able to walk with the shoes on and not want to cry. Then another for me to be able to wear them for long periods of time. But today, I was confident I could make it all night looking graceful while flashing my pretty heels in her face.
Revenge was one hell of a motivator.
Now that I was settled, I looked at the three guys and took them in, glad that my tinted windows prevented them from doing the same to me. They looked like they were ready for a Vogue spread.
After leaving the small bubble of my private school, I gained self-confidence. When you don’t have it, the status quo makes growing up a bitch. You feel like an ugly duckling at times, but once you step into the real world—a more diverse world—you see that you weren’t the issue. And being around other people, you start to feel wanted and desired.
I grabbed the large, iced coffee I picked up on my way here because something about carrying an iced cup of coffee with you made everything seem more bearable. I was just glad there was a coffee shop next to the florist.
One foot in front of the other, I approached Neo and his two best friends. To his right was Wesley Miles, and to his left was Tatum Park. I lifted my chin higher as I felt their gazes on me. Was it just me, or did all women feel some type of way being stared at by a group of men? I don’t know if some found it emboldening while others were cautious. It made me feel judged, and I hated that a part of me cared, but then again I felt the same way with a group of women.
My body issues and mommy issues needed to take a back seat today.
Tatum did go to our same private school. He was a late bloomer, which is probably why he was never popular, and despite having money, his father was considered a tad bit eccentric and on the newer side of the spectrum, so the fact that he made friends with Neo made sense. Wesley was someone he met in college. He was African American, the son of a runway model, and a football player. He was handsome, with white teeth and beautiful, gleaming skin. With his connections, I was surprised he didn’t try to make a run for Hollywood, but he was also wicked smart and liked challenges.
“Oh look, Neo, it’s your little sister,” Tatum leered.
He didn’t hide the fact that he was checking me out.
“Not yet,” I said as I turned toward Wesley since he was the only one with manners.
“Hi, Wes,” I greeted him first. He extended his arm so I could shake it. I’d met him twice already when Neo brought him over for the holidays.
“ Muy bonita ,” he smiled at me.
“ Gracias ,” I replied.
Then, I finally greeted my soon-to-be brother.
Neo’s jaw was set in a firm line. He did not look happy. I wondered if he was as ecstatic about our parents’ union as I was. That would certainly explain his attitude.
He was wearing an all-black tuxedo. The only color on him was a bow tie the exact shade of my dress.
“My father asked me to pick this up for you,” I told him as I handed him the box from the florist that contained his boutonniere. There was an edge to my tone since I was displeased that they asked me when he clearly had time to do it.
He looked down at it, and then his head tilted slowly until he made eye contact with me. It always made me feel off-kilter when our gazes locked. He always made me feel like an afterthought, something to be dismissed.
For a moment, I thought he was different from everyone else—that he had seen past prejudices, ignored social norms, and saw me. But no, he was just as blind as everyone else.
Slowly, the anger disappeared, and his face morphed into a smirk, which made me brace for whatever would come out of his mouth.
“You’re not going to put it on me, little sis?”
He made it sound sinful, and I wondered if it was because his friends were here as he usually disregarded me.
“That would require I get close to you, and I have no desire to do that.”
Both his friends chuckled at this. Neo rolled his eyes. “Aw, but aren’t little sisters supposed to dote on their big brothers?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve heard of cases where they end up killing them.”
I’d had enough of this nonsense. Instead of going around him and his friends, I cut between him and Tatum since they were closer to the side door. I purposely bumped Tatum with my shoulder, and then, as I passed Neo, I pushed the box against his stomach. He grunted, clearly not expecting me to use as much force as I did.
Once inside the church, the planner was running around everywhere, telling people where to put what floral arrangements. People would begin to arrive in the next half hour, and then Pricilla would make her grand entrance because you only get married once—I mean twice.
I scanned the church until I found my father. He was sitting down looking pensive, and I wondered…maybe hoped, that he was regretting this.
“Are you okay with this, sweetheart?”
At the time, I just shrugged. It was his life, and as a legal adult, throwing a tantrum didn’t feel right.
“Father,” I greeted him.
His focus was on me instantly, and he gave me a warm smile. “You look beautiful, Lulu.”
I bit my lip because that was my mother's nickname. Everyone else said Lou, so they didn’t have to try to pronounce the Spanish consonants, but she preferred saying Lulu.
“Thank you…are you nervous?”
He let out a humorless chuckle.
“No, honey, I’m not nervous.”
There was a tense silence that I didn’t feel like diffusing.
My father sighed and then spoke. “I wish I could have given your mother a grand wedding. We deserved that.”
My lips stayed shut. Did he feel guilty? Good.
My parents eloped right after they graduated. My father knew that getting my grandparents to agree to a marriage with a commoner—someone who was clearly not in their circles—wouldn’t go over well.
It was just them, my mom’s best friend and one of my father's friends. Mom used to say it was perfect. She said that when you’re in love, you don’t need all the fanfare to make it special.
Every year, my father made their anniversary special by gifting her jewelry and taking them on a week-long trip.
“We should probably start getting in place,” I told him. He got up and gave me his arm so he could escort me.
I took it without hesitation, and I realized how nice it was to be close to my dad. However, then I remembered he was about to get married, which soured the experience.
“Neo, you look dashing,” my father called out, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
The asshole walked toward us, the floral box still in his hand.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, then turned his profile to me. “Lou, would you be a good little sis and help me with this thing?”
My eyes narrowed, but I held back on a retort since my father was next to me.
“What’s family for,” I said sarcastically.
I took the box from his hand while ignoring the triumphant way he looked down at me. Even with my heels he still had a good few inches on me. I grabbed the flower and the pin, then handed him the box.
As I lined up the pin on his lapel, my father decided to move. He put his hand on my lower back, causing me to step forward. The first thing I noticed was his smell. It reminded me of that abandoned stairwell.
“I’m going to go check which guests have made it here.”
Mierda. Shit.
My father sucked at this whole protecting part of parenting.
“Don’t expect me to help you when you break your ankle tonight.”
Instead of looking at the pin going through the flower, I looked up at him and smiled as I poked the needle into his chest.
He flinched but didn’t say anything, because otherwise that would mean I won.
“Oh.” I pouted, and I felt him stare at my lips. “But isn’t that what big brothers are for? To help you out when you’re in need?”
I held my breath and waited for what he would say next. His eyes had darkened, almost black, and it was impossible to look away. The air seemed to thicken. His chest rose and fell a bit quicker, and I felt like my heart was trying to syncopate the rhythm.
“Mr. Caldwell, Miss Riviere, please go to your places,” the wedding planner called, effectively diffusing the tension that had been there only moments ago.