Chapter 6
“Did anything interesting happen at the conference?”
Ava kept her face blank as she answered Jasmine’s question. “Not particularly.”
Michelle smirked. “No ‘teachers gone wild’ scenarios?”
You mean like grinding on the hotel owner in a rooftop swimming pool? Ava took a quick sip of champagne to cover her reaction to the memory and kept her voice cool as she replied aloud.
“Only if you mean wild with boredom. Would you want to spend two hours in a master class on standardized test prep?”
Michelle wrinkled her nose. “Absolutely not.”
From her spot between them, Jasmine shook her head. “Do they at least pay you for the hours you’re at the conference?”
On Ava’s other side, Jasmine’s sister, Jillian, snorted. “You know they don’t.”
Jillian, a quantitative analyst on Wall Street, was hunched over a laptop balanced on her knees. Aside from the occasional
muttered comment, she largely ignored the champagne and conversation flowing around her.
It was Sunday afternoon, two days after Ava’s one-night stand with Roman. Ava and her cousins—along with Jasmine’s mother, Titi Lisa—were sitting in what had to be the most ostentatious bridal showroom in New York City. The place was huge, decked out with heavily padded purple sofas, gaudy golden chandeliers, and coldly beautiful mannequins modeling every style of wedding dress one could imagine. Ava couldn’t help but compare it to the more tasteful ambience of Roman’s hotel.
Thanks to Jasmine’s celebrity status, their little group had it all to themselves, though not for lack of trying on Titi Lisa’s
part. When Jasmine’s mother had attempted to invite all the other tías and cousins to come along to watch Jasmine try on dresses—and
offer their opinions—Jasmine had put her foot down. As a result, only the five of them were present.
Titi Lisa rushed over to them with her phone outstretched. “Smile, girls.”
Jillian snapped, “I’m working, Mom!” and leaned out of view. But Ava and Michelle obliged, leaning in on either side of Jasmine
and smiling widely.
Titi Lisa was Filipina and Puerto Rican by way of Southern California, and both of her daughters favored her. Jasmine was
gorgeous, with golden brown skin and dark hair even curlier and thicker than Ava’s. But after getting her photo snapped by
paparazzi on wash day with the headline, “Hot Mess: Is Jasmine Lin Okay?” Jasmine now straightened her hair more often than
not. Jillian looked a lot like Jasmine, but taller and more serious-looking, with a short haircut and thick-framed glasses.
Michelle was short and curvy, with creamy skin and dark wavy hair.
Ava towered over all of them. She often felt like a giant lumbering amongst her more petite Rodriguez relatives. Her height
came from her maternal grandfather, who lived in Barbados. Her cousins there were tall, like she was, but she didn’t get to
see them often.
Sometimes she wondered if she’d only married Hector for his height.
Roman wasn’t much taller than she was—she guessed he was five-foot-ten barefoot, which hardly counted as short —but he had so much... presence, he seemed to take up more space. He commanded attention and was fairly bursting with personality.
His solid physique didn’t hurt either. He was muscular without being overwhelming, as she’d told Damaris in their hotel room.
Her friend had shown up with a chilled bottle of sparkling rosé—bless her—and demanded all the juicy details of Ava’s passionate
evening with the handsome hotelier.
Damaris was Dominican and despite being half a foot shorter than Ava, people often mistook them for sisters. They both had
big curly hair and a similar facial structure, although Damaris’s light brown skin was a few shades darker than Ava’s. Damaris
also had massive boobs, whereas Ava’s own breasts could best be described as modest.
When Ava had finished recounting a loose outline of the events that had taken place, Damaris had stood up and clapped, the
tiny jewels on her manicured nails glinting in the lamplight. But then her dark eyes turned serious.
“On the one hand, I’m really proud of you. You deserve to have fun, and this man sounds like a dream.”
Ava’s brows drew together. “I feel a ‘but’ coming.”
Damaris raised her own expertly tweezed eyebrows. “But on the other hand... what would Colleen say?”
Ava had huffed. Colleen had been the only person in Ava’s life who felt Ava should hold off on dating. The therapist hadn’t
said it in so many words, but she’d urged Ava to work on her boundaries in other areas of her life—namely with her family—before
entering into another relationship.
“It was a one-night stand. How much more straightforward about boundaries could I be?”
Ava didn’t mention that Roman had given her his card and very clearly left the door open for another... appointment...
in the future.
Damaris had raised her hands like you do you and said, “If that’s how you learn to establish boundaries, don’t let me stop you. There are definitely worse ways.”
Then they’d gossiped about their school’s principal, drank rosé, and watched Pride & Prejudice .
Now, Ava glanced over to where Michelle and Jasmine chatted with their heads together and snapped a photo of them. As much
as she wanted to tell them about Roman, something held her back.
For one thing, there was always the chance that it would somehow get back to their grandmother. But it was more than that.
In their family, Ava was the perfect one. The good one. She and her cousins had joked about the Ranking, a rating system of
who was in their grandmother’s good graces versus who was on the viejita’s shit list. For as long as Ava could remember, she
had strived to be at the top of the Ranking.
And she had been. She’d been on the receiving end of Abuela’s praise for everything from her looks and behavior to her cooking
skills and life choices. Poor Jasmine had often been subject to passive aggressive remarks, both for her decision to become
a professional actor and her many breakups. And after Michelle had quit her corporate marketing job to go freelance, the old
woman had berated her endlessly. Ava had sympathized, but it wasn’t until Hector had left her that she’d finally known the
full force of her grandmother’s judgment and disapproval.
Ever since, she’d been trying to claw her way back to the top spot. And that meant being even more helpful, even more hard-working, even more perfect , than before.
Ava busied herself taking photos of the showroom until the consultant came over to collect Jasmine. The woman introduced herself
as Debbie in a thick Long Island accent. She was short, with olive-toned skin, a dark bob, and heavily applied mascara ringing
her blue eyes.
“So, Jasmine, do you know what you’re looking for?” Debbie asked.
“I’m not sure.” Jasmine’s stunning features pinched with uncertainty. “I don’t want a typical wedding dress. Something glamorous,
but not too extravagant.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Jas, it’s a wedding dress . Extravagance is the point.”
“Exactly!” Titi Lisa jumped in. “I told her, you only get married once, so this is your chance to look like a queen.” Then
Lisa glanced at Ava with an apologetic look. “I should say, your first wedding is, um...”
“It’s okay,” Ava murmured. “I know I’m divorced.”
Michelle opened her mouth—likely to come to Ava’s rescue—but Ava gave a brief shake of her head. Debbie, who probably had
lots of experience navigating tense family dynamics, smoothly breached the awkwardness.
“Jasmine, why don’t I take you into the fitting room to show you some dresses you might like? While we’re doing that, the
rest of you can each pick out something for Jasmine to try on.”
Following Debbie, Jasmine mouthed “sorry” to Ava, who waved her off.
Despite muttering about the exploitative nature of the wedding industrial complex, Jillian leaped to her feet and ventured into the racks of wedding dresses farthest from where they all sat.
“Jilly’s not wrong,” Michelle mused as she strolled over to a rack full of white dresses encased in clear plastic. “This whole
thing is a capitalist’s wet dream.”
Ava went over to another rack, but her aunt’s offhand comment stayed with her.
You only get married once .
And then, echoing unbidden in her mind, came Hector’s voice: I don’t want to be married to you anymore .
Eyes burning, Ava stared at the wedding dresses in front of her. She let out a shuddering breath and darted a look around.
Michelle was hunting for dresses on the next rack, and if she saw Ava, she’d know something was up. Ava hurried to the restroom
and locked herself in one of the private stalls. There, she pressed her hands to her eyes and willed herself not to cry.
No matter how many times Colleen had told her that crying was healthy and natural, Ava hadn’t been able to uproot her deeply
ingrained beliefs. Crying was bothersome. Crying was “making a scene.” Crying was messy .
Ava almost never cried, and now would be the worst time to fall apart. The others would worry, Jasmine would feel awful, and
Ava would be racked with guilt for bringing down Jasmine’s special experience.
Not only that, Titi Lisa would absolutely tell Titi Val, Michelle’s mother, who would tell her sister, Titi Nita, who would
tell Abuela, and then it would be a thing .
Did you hear Ava cried at Jasmine’s dress shopping trip?
They’d transition from a pitying Ay, bendito to a scornful What’s her problem? in the blink of an eye.
Ava didn’t miss Hector, but knowing she’d failed at the most important thing her family expected of her wore her down like a cliff buffeted not by the sea, but wave after wave of criticism.
Roman’s business card was still in her bag. With shaking fingers, she pulled it out and typed his number into her phone. Then
she tapped on the message bar.
After a brief hesitation, she wrote, Are you free?
And immediately deleted it.
What the hell was she doing? She didn’t need Roman. Who was he to her? Some man she’d met at a bar. A one-night stand.
Besides, she was the one who’d laid out the boundaries. It wasn’t fair to step over them not even forty-eight hours later,
just because she was, what—feeling jealous? Sad? Sure, he was a good listener, great in bed, and looked at her with an intensity
that she felt down to her very soul, but that didn’t mean she had any right to ask for more. And on top of that, she didn’t
want more. She was done with love, done with relationships, done with romance in general.
Even so, just knowing she could message him, if she wanted to, was enough to settle her.
She tucked his card and her phone back into her purse. Then she washed her hands, touched up her lip gloss, and left the bathroom.
The others were still looking at dresses when she returned. Ava joined them at the racks. As hard as it was reliving the memories
of her own wedding, she wanted her cousin to have what she hadn’t. After everything Jasmine had been through, she deserved
the perfect dress, the perfect wedding, the perfect everything. And it was Ava’s duty as maid of honor to make that happen.
A moment later, Jasmine came out wearing a strapless mermaid dress with a sparkly bodice and a textured skirt. Clips pinched the fabric in the back to make it fit her form. She looked great, but then, Jasmine always looked great. She had a perfect Hollywood body—not too tall, not too short, taut and lean, but curvy in the right places.
Ava, on the other hand, often felt like she was curvy in all the wrong places. She’d inherited her mom’s wide, shapely hips, but she didn’t have the butt to match. Buying pants was always an exercise
in frustration, and she wore a lot of dresses to avoid doing it.
That was one thing she couldn’t fault Hector on. He’d adored her body, and even if the sex had been unsatisfying by the end,
she’d at least known he’d found her attractive.
Unfortunately, there were times she wondered if that was all he’d loved about her.
Jasmine stepped onto a block in front of a trio of mirrors and turned this way and that, examining her reflection.
The dress looked good on her. But...
“It’s not right,” Jasmine said, and Ava let out a sigh of relief.
“No, it’s not the perfect dress for you,” she said.
Titi Lisa and Michelle agreed, and Jillian nodded without looking up from her phone.
Jasmine went to try on something else while Michelle filled Ava in on her latest client meetings in LA.
Titi Lisa had selected a ball gown with cap sleeves and a fitted bodice covered in floral lace. The skirt was enormous, the
layers of taffeta and organza decked out with pearls and more lace. When Jasmine came out in it, tears gathered in Titi Lisa’s
eyes.
“You look like a princess!” she gushed.
Jasmine shook fistfuls of the voluminous skirt. “I look like a vanilla cupcake, Mom.”
Titi Lisa turned to her other daughter. “Jilly, do you like it?”
Jillian growled something about the egos of patriarchal finance bros and kept her eyes glued to her laptop.
“What do you think, Ava?” Titi Lisa turned imploring eyes on Ava, who patted her arm.
“It’s very nice, but I’m not sure it’s exactly Jasmine’s style,” Ava said diplomatically.
As Jasmine passed Ava on her way out, she mouthed, “Very nice?”
Ava shrugged. “You wanted me to tell her it looks like a kaleidoscope of butterflies is attacking your tetas?”
Jasmine cackled all the way back to the fitting room. Minutes later, she stomped out with her hands on her hips, wearing Michelle’s
pick—a slinky Chantilly lace number with a deep V framed by scalloped edges. Even with the sheer “illusion” panel in the center,
the dress was quite revealing.
Jasmine glared at Michelle. “I look like I’m channeling J.Lo at the 2000 Grammy Awards.”
Michelle grinned. “Hey, that green Versace was iconic.”
“Yes, but not for my wedding!”
Ignoring Jasmine’s stormy expression, Michelle snapped a photo on her phone. When she saw Ava looking, she winked. “I told
Ashton I’d pick out the sexiest dress I could find and send him a picture.”
Ava shook her head as Jasmine sailed away with Titi Lisa hot on her heels. “Why do you tease that man?”
“Because it’s so easy.” Then Michelle got a speculative look in her eye. “Maybe I should try that one on and send a picture
to Gabe. We’re never getting married, so this is my only chance.”
“With your boobs, it’s going to look obscene,” Ava warned.
Michelle smirked. “That’s the point. Be right back.”
After Michelle disappeared into the dressing room, Jillian glanced over at Ava and said, “Thanks again for taking on maid
of honor duties.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ava said. “I’m happy to help.”
“I mean it. You’re saving me a lot of hassle.”
Ava shrugged it off. “Between your workload and Michelle’s travel schedule, it just makes sense.”
Jillian grabbed the half-full bottle of champagne and handed it over.
“Here,” she said. “Don’t bother with a glass. I won’t tell anyone.”
Ava huffed out a laugh. “Thanks. But Jas hasn’t gone full Bridezilla yet.”
“Give it time,” Jillian muttered darkly and returned to her work.
If Jillian had noticed Ava’s tension, it meant Ava had to be more careful.
Fixing her features into what she thought of as her Resting Pleasant Face—serene smile, smooth brow, eyes slightly unfocused
to mask the internal screaming—Ava returned to the racks to find the perfect dress for Jasmine.
Jillian surprised them all by selecting a whimsical off-the-shoulder gown with sheer puffy sleeves, a sparkling corset top,
and a long flowing skirt.
When Jasmine came out in it, Jillian looked up and shrugged. “Pretty, but not your style,” she said, and went back to her
laptop.
Jasmine posed for a few pictures, then returned to the fitting room, this time forbidding her mother from coming with her.
Michelle distracted Titi Lisa with trying on headpieces while Ava kept looking through the racks. She searched and searched, debating between a lacy mermaid dress and a sequined one-shoulder design. They both screamed “Jasmine,” but in different ways.
“It’s almost harder because she looks amazing in everything,” Ava muttered to herself, not at all bitterly.
Then she saw it. The perfect dress.
She gathered it up and rushed over to the dressing room.
“This one,” she told Debbie. “I have a good feeling.”
As Ava went back to the seating area, memories of her own wedding dress filled her thoughts. It had featured an asymmetrically
draped sweetheart bodice with cap sleeves and a flowing A-line tulle skirt. It hadn’t been her first choice, but it had been
flattering on her body and she’d managed to find it used for less than half the retail price. She’d splurged on a tiny tiara
to attach the simple veil. Her cousin Ronnie had done her hair and Titi Val had done her makeup. Ava had felt beautiful.
A year later, she’d sold the dress to Hector’s cousin, who’d added lace sleeves and a rhinestone belt to give it a different
look. As much as Ava had wanted to keep it, she was nothing if not practical. The dress took up too much space in her tiny
closet, and she’d needed the money for student loans.
Now she was just glad the damn thing was out of her life.
Same with Hector.
She thought of how tightly Roman had held her in the pool, the strength and warmth of his body surrounding her own. It had
been so long since she’d been skin to skin with another person, she hadn’t even realized how much she’d needed it.
Just then, Jasmine came out wearing Ava’s selection, and Titi Lisa burst into tears.
The romantic boho style dress had a subtle V-neck, flutter sleeves, and an open back. The skirt fell from Jasmine’s trim waist with an overlay of delicate floral tulle lace that managed to be both ethereal and chic at the same time. Ivory lace complemented Jasmine’s golden complexion and dark hair, making her appear to glow with otherworldly beauty.
As Jasmine stepped onto the block, she wore a hopeful smile on her face.
“I think this is it,” she said quietly, her gaze seeking out Ava. “What do you think?”
Ava couldn’t speak. She blinked fast and nodded. Titi Lisa sobbed. Michelle gave two thumbs up. Even Jillian glanced up from
her laptop and said, “Yes. This.”
Jasmine’s eyes grew wet. “It’s perfect. Ava, what would I do without you?”
“You’ll never need to find out,” Ava promised, her voice cracking with emotion.
With her Resting Pleasant Face firmly affixed, Ava took photos and dutifully documented the moment while Jasmine spun and
posed.
And if underneath the joy of helping her cousin find the perfect wedding dress stirred something that resembled jealousy,
well, Ava would just deal with it on her own time.