Chapter 18
June
“Don’t let Mom catch you.” Ava’s sixteen-year-old sister Willow spoke out of the side of her mouth like they were old-timey
movie spies passing along top-secret information, instead of half-sisters hanging out at their cousin’s engagement party.
All around the packed ballroom, A-list celebrities mingled with Ava’s multitude of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Over by the
photo staging area—a floral background emblazoned with the words “Jasmine & Ashton” with an oversize ampersand between them—Ava
spotted Michelle’s mom, Titi Val, chatting with a recent Tony Award winner, and next to the open bar, her cousin Ronnie laughed
with a former popstar-turned-sitcom actress.
Ava narrowed her eyes at that. She was currently holding Ronnie’s daughter because her cousin had claimed she needed to run
to the restroom.
Ava hoisted the sleepy and overwhelmed three-year-old higher on her hip and turned back to her sister. “Why is Olympia looking
for me?”
Willow’s tone turned dark. “She’s going to ask you to paint more chairs.”
“More?” Ava suppressed a groan. “Is she opening a restaurant? How many could she possibly need?”
Willow and Ava had different mothers, so they didn’t resemble each other closely, but they had the same heart-shaped face
and big, thickly lashed eyes, and when they smiled, the kinship was clear. Her curly hair was looser and a few shades lighter
than Ava’s, and she had fair skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose.
Willow shrugged and reached out to tickle her little cousin under the chin. “I swear, the patio chairs breed like rabbits
while I’m sleeping.”
More like Olympia was a compulsive shopper, but Ava kept that to herself. She was careful not to bad-mouth Olympia in front
of Willow, for fear of influencing their relationship.
Over the past twenty-five years, Ava had done everything in her power to stay on her stepmother’s good side. Which was why
she’d spent the previous weekend painting patio chairs in ninety-degree heat and dodging Olympia’s passive aggressive remarks
about Ava’s aunts and uncles. Olympia had picked up more than a dozen beige plastic patio chairs at a clearance sale—despite
the fact that she already had twenty scattered around the backyard—and because Olympia had never met a primary color she didn’t
like, Ava, Willow, and their father had been summoned to paint them red. Willow had sung “We’re painting las sillas red” under
her breath on and off, to the tune of the song from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland . And any time Olympia had critiqued the way they were painting, Willow had muttered, “Off with your head!” until Ava had
bitten her tongue to keep from laughing.
Ava had only survived the day by texting Roman updates from the chair-painting trenches.
It had been more than a month since they’d last seen each other—he’d been traveling a lot, and she’d been busy preparing for
the end of the school year—but they texted almost daily. Despite Ava’s initial boundary, something had changed after their
movie night.
It started when she sent Roman a meme about Mr. Collins and the boiled potatoes. He’d sent back a Colin Firth gif from the
BBC miniseries and admitted he’d been watching it on the plane. From there, they sent each other questions and updates every
day, often adding thematically appropriate Pride & Prejudice memes in response. The Mrs. Bennett gifs had gotten quite a workout during Ava’s adventures in patio chairs.
She should’ve put a stop to it. Their exchanges had nothing to do with sex, yet somehow felt more intimate than anything they’d
done in a bed. But every time Roman’s name popped up on her phone, her heart soared, and she jumped to reply. When Willow
had caught Ava grinning at her phone, Ava had lied and said she was texting Damaris.
“It’s okay to tell them no,” Willow said now. “To the chairs. And anything else they ask you to do.”
Ava sent her sister a mild smile. “I don’t mind. I’m happy to help.”
“ I mind,” Willow muttered under her breath, gazing across the dance floor to where their father swayed with Olympia.
Ava tamped down the frustration rising within her. She hated that Willow saw their family dynamic so clearly. It meant Ava wasn’t hiding her emotions well enough. She’d never wanted
Willow to notice what she had long suspected, that their parents took advantage of Ava’s helpfulness, of her need to belong.
Before Ava could think of what to say in response to that, she spotted Titi Nereida striding toward them. Their grandmother’s older sister leveled Ava with a haughty glare made even more menacing by her heavily painted-on brows.
Willow took one look at their great-aunt and grabbed Ronnie’s daughter from Ava’s arms. “I’ll take her back to Ronnie. See
ya!”
Titi Nereida cornered Ava. “?Y el chocolate fountain?” she demanded.
Ava blinked. The non sequitur was so out of left field, even for Titi Nereida, that Ava couldn’t guess what the older woman
meant. “Huh?”
Her great-aunt gestured impatiently. “?Por qué está apagado?”
Ava glanced at the table where the chocolate fountain was supposed to be flowing like something out of Willy Wonka’s factory.
Sure enough, it was off, and a ring of disappointed children poked halfheartedly at the thickening chocolate.
Turning back to her great-aunt, Ava pressed her lips into a tight smile. As much as she wanted to point out that there was
an event planner in attendance, she didn’t dare. If Ava was rude to Titi Nereida, she’d never hear the end of it.
“Don’t worry,” Ava assured her great-aunt. “I’ll fix it.”
Stepping away, Ava grabbed a crab puff on a toothpick and popped it in her mouth as she navigated the packed ballroom. She
skirted the dance floor, looking for the doors she’d seen the catering team slipping in and out of.
At least there was no risk of running into Roman while she was here. The engagement party was being held at the Echo Luxe
SoHo, not one of the Dulce hotels. Thank goodness for small favors.
Although if they were at a Dulce, she could ask Roman to fix this chocolate fountain business.
Ava was on her way into the kitchen to grab someone from catering when her grandmother pulled her aside.
“Ava, mi amor. ?Estás bien?” Esperanza asked in a hushed voice.
Ava offered her grandmother a confused smile. “I’m fine, Abuela. ?Qué pasó?”
Realization dawned on Esperanza’s lined face, and her gaze darted to the side. “Nereida didn’t tell you?”
“That the chocolate fountain isn’t working?” Ava nodded. “I’m on my way to the kitchen now.”
Her grandmother’s dark brown eyes went wide and she started to back away. “Oh, never mind then. No es nada.”
Ava’s own eyes narrowed in suspicion and she caught her grandmother’s shoulder. “Esperate. What did you think Titi Nereida
told me?”
Esperanza waved it away. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing, Bwela. Díme.”
Esperanza sighed, and her eyebrows dipped in resignation. “I thought you already knew, nena. Lo siento.”
Now Ava was really worried. Her grandmother almost never apologized—for anything. The old woman was loving and affectionate,
but she could also be critical and mean. If she was saying she was sorry, it must be really bad.
Anxiety blossomed as Ava took her grandmother’s hands. “Please just tell me. Is everything okay? Is someone sick?”
“No, nothing like that. Pero... you know Nereida is neighbors with Gloria, sí?”
Ava froze at the name of her former mother-in-law, then forced herself to nod.
“Well, Nereida told me...”
Ava waited silently, gaze glued to her grandmother’s face, but inside she was screaming JUST SAY IT .
Esperanza let the rest out in a rush. “Hector is getting married.”
Ava’s lips parted, but nothing came out.
Her first ridiculous thought was to correct what her grandmother had said. Not married , but remarried . Hector was getting remarried . Because he had already been married before. To her .
But now... Hector was getting married to someone else. Someone who was not her .
I don’t want to be married to you anymore .
God, when was she going to get those words out of her head?
“Ava? ?Cómo te sientes?” Esperanza’s brow creased, and Ava wondered how long she’d been silent, letting the news sink in.
“Fine, Abuela. Estoy bien.”
She was fine. Of course she was fine. She was always fine.
And when she wasn’t fine, she knew where to turn.
“I have to fix the chocolate fountain,” she told her grandmother, and her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.
Esperanza pulled her down to kiss her cheek. “Cuídate, nena. I’ll pray for you.”
“Gracias, Bwela.” The reply was robotic, and as Ava headed for the doors to the kitchen, she dimly registered that her legs
were numb and the sound in the room was muted. She was in shock. Yes, that’s what this was. Shock.
And she didn’t fucking have time for it.
The initial shock gave way to anger. It had been more than two years since she and Hector had separated. When was she going to be allowed to forget about him and move on? The jerk had been so enmeshed in her family, she couldn’t even get away from mentions of him, even after all this time. Why the hell did she need to know he was getting remarried? He wasn’t part of her life anymore. She didn’t want to hear any updates about him.
Especially now—at an engagement party, surrounded by family members, when she was supposed to go stand in front of them in
a few minutes to be announced as the maid of honor. Maid, not matron, because she wasn’t married anymore . Chisme like this would spread like wildfire, and by the time she got to the dais, every Rodriguez relative in the room would
be gazing upon her with pity.
She could hear it now. Pobrecita Ava. Her husband left her and now he’s getting married again and she’s all alone .
The thought of it made her sick.
She stared around her, at the photo backdrop and “She Said Yes!” banner—Ronnie’s doing—at the famous faces interspersed among
her relatives, at the DJ booth where her second cousin Javi played a mix of classic salsa, pop hits, and typical Latin party
music, at Michelle and Gabe tearing up the dance floor to “Suavemente.”
In Ava’s memories, Elvis Crespo would forever be the soundtrack to this moment.
Enough was enough. She needed something to look forward to after this emotional shitstorm. Slipping her phone out of the pocket
of her dress, Ava opened her texts with Roman and wrote, Are you free tonight? And then, before she could overthink it, she added, I want to see you.
She hit send.
Something about the admission felt a little reckless, in a good way. It was more forward than she would typically be, but with Roman, she wasn’t afraid to be bold.
Roman. That sexy, attentive, sweetheart of a man. When she was with him, she felt like she was enough, just as she was. Not
because she was helpful , not because she was nice . Just because she was Ava.
She recalled what he’d said while they were watching Pride & Prejudice in his bed.
I’m just Roman. And you’re just Ava. That’s all we need to be .
She wasn’t Jane Bennett, or Charlotte Lucas, or Hector’s ex-wife.
She was Ava Rodriguez, goddammit. And she was done letting other people’s expectations define her.
One of the caterers slipped past her carrying a tray of ropa vieja sliders, and Ava deflated a bit. Okay, she still had some
expectations to meet before New Ava could fully take the reins.
Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the kitchen to find the catering manager and demand—politely—that they fix the fucking
chocolate fountain before anyone else in her family could nag her about it.