Chapter 24
Inside the room, Ava set her things down. After counting to five, she tiptoed back to the door and peeked out. No sign of
Roman. Or Oscar, or the chef, or the driver, or whomever else might be lurking. She was alone.
Shutting the door again, she strode over to the bed and flopped backward with her arms outstretched. She landed in the center
of the mattress with a soft bounce. As the padding settled, she closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh.
Bliss .
Now that all was quiet and still, Ava became aware of a dull pounding in her temples. It had started a couple hours earlier,
but sparring with Roman and the novelty of her surroundings had made it easier to ignore. She’d hardly slept the night before,
second- and third-guessing everything she packed in her suitcase, and she was probably dehydrated from being on the plane.
The luxurious bed tempted her to take a nap then and there, but she and Roman were meeting the wedding planner in an hour.
If she drank enough water, the budding headache would go away. Still, she gave herself a few minutes to mull over everything
they’d discussed on the plane.
The negotiation of rules had veered dangerously into flirting territory, but the whole point of them was to maintain the boundaries of their relationship.
She’d been surprised when he told her about his father, and even more surprised that she’d talked to him about her own family.
Roman was just too damned easy to talk to, and she always ended up revealing more than she’d intended.
He’s just the best man in my cousin’s wedding , she told herself. They were only here to help. No more wondering about his past, and no more opening up about her own.
And her, acting like she’d never seen Recuerdos Peligrosos . Of course she’d watched it. Not when it had aired—she hadn’t been lying about that—but as soon as she’d gotten home from that ill-fated
engagement party, she’d subscribed to the streaming service that had the show and tormented herself by watching all the episodes
in one weekend, when she should have been grading.
No one knew about that, not even Damaris.
And no one knew that she’d also done a search for decades-old celebrity gossip to see if Roman had ever been romantically
linked with the actress who played the love interest. There wasn’t even a whiff of a rumor, which hadn’t come as a total surprise.
The lead actress had been married at the time, and Roman and Ashton had more on-screen chemistry as brothers than either of
them had with her. It made sense that the guys were still close friends after all these years.
Roman had been good in the role, but not amazing. Knowing him as she did, Ava could see that he was too sweet, too earnest to relish playing a resentful and hot-tempered rancher. Ashton, on the other hand, had been entirely believable as the poetic older brother plagued by the demons of their TV father’s cruelty. Even then, it had been clear that Ashton had the kind of star power that couldn’t be taught.
Watching Roman on screen had made Ava feel close to him, although it had also made her miserable to think of never being with
him again.
After giving herself another thirty seconds to enjoy the sensation of being weightless, she hauled herself up. Her fling with
Roman might be over, but while she was here, she was determined to enjoy herself.
Her usual vacation MO was to live out of her suitcase as much as possible in an effort not to “mess things up,” but Michelle
had made her promise to unpack more than just her toiletry bag.
“You’re not at your dad’s house,” Michelle had said with her typical bluntness. “You’re allowed to take up space.”
While Ava still struggled to internalize that concept, this gorgeous room absolutely begged her to make herself at home. She
unzipped her suitcase and got to it.
By the time they had to leave, Ava had hung some of her clothing in the closet and put the rest in the dresser. She’d also
lined up her makeup and hair products neatly on the bathroom counter and set a book—a young adult fantasy novel her students
had raved about—on the nightstand. There. That looked lived in, right?
She took a photo of the unpacked toiletry bag and sent it to Michelle with the caption, Happy now?
While checking her planner one last time, she stifled a laugh. Under “To Do,” Roman had written his own name in loose, quick
cursive.
“We’ll see about that,” she murmured, smiling.
Tucking the planner under her arm, she grabbed her purse and left the room. Time to get this show on the road.
But despite all her planning, Ava was entirely unprepared for “Belinda de Bellísima,” as the wedding planner introduced herself. Belinda Barrios was a petite woman, probably around Ava’s mother’s age, with creamy skin, wavy brown hair, and pink lipstick. She wore a bright pink pencil skirt and a white sleeveless blouse with three-inch yellow espadrilles. Belinda looked every bit her role, right down to the tiny wedding cake earrings and the diamond ring appliqué on her fourth fingernails.
She was also an absolute whirlwind, hustling them through the resort at breakneck speed to provide details about the ballroom,
the cocktail lounge, and the beach where the ceremony would take place, all the while speaking Spanish a mile a minute and
peppering her descriptions with trivia about the island and anecdotes about other weddings she’d managed.
They stood on the beach in the glaring sun, in the exact spot where Jasmine and Ashton would say their vows. Ava’s head throbbed
as she tried to take notes and visualize the verbal pictures Belinda had painted so she could give Jasmine a full accounting.
“Do we have a time for the ceremony?” Belinda asked, having just rattled off the pros and cons for every hour of the day.
She carried a pink umbrella to protect herself from the sun.
Ava scribbled furiously in her planner, but she’d missed a few things, and while she was verbally fluent, listening in Spanish
and writing in English was taxing, especially with a headache brewing. Plus she’d forgotten her water bottle. She paused her
note-taking to ask for clarification.
“Can you please repeat—”
“Early evening,” Roman cut in, tapping on his tablet. “Looking at sunset times and angle of descent in August...” He rattled
off a time.
Belinda nodded as she typed something on her phone. “And where do you want the arch?”
Roman pointed. “Over here, so everyone isn’t blinded by the setting sun.”
“First look photoshoot or at the altar?”
“First look. We’ll also get the family photos out of the way beforehand.”
“Very good.”
“Ashton and Jasmine can take more photos at sunset while everyone else is enjoying the cocktail hour. There are also going
to be a number of celebrities attending, and we have to assume many of them will also be out here doing their own photoshoots.
So we’ll bring the couple into the reception a little later.”
Belinda looked impressed. “Excellent thinking. We can work backward to figure out exact times for photography, hair and makeup...”
Belinda and Roman walked away, leaving Ava to stare after them, open-mouthed.
What the hell? Not only had she not gotten a word in, they’d decided the entire day’s schedule without any of her input!
By the time she caught up to them, they were halfway through a discussion about flowers and décor. Ava tried to jump into
the conversation, but there was never a lag, never a moment where either of them said, “Ava, what do you think?” And Belinda was tossing out so much information, it was a struggle to write it all down.
Belinda showed them photos of centerpiece flower arrangements on her tablet, and Ava was at least able to narrow it down to
the two she thought Jasmine would like best. Meanwhile, it seemed like all the decisions Roman made were based on logic —like the sunset timeline, which Ava could admit was a smart thing to take into account—and not on what Jasmine and Ashton
would actually like .
Besides, Ava had pages and pages of notes about Jasmine’s preferences. That was why she was here, to be her cousin’s proxy,
and Roman was cutting her out of the decision-making process without even giving her the chance to ask follow-up questions.
And so it went through place settings and seating options.
By the time the three of them headed to the tasting, Ava had fucking had it. It was difficult to keep her Resting Pleasant
Face intact when she wanted to outright glare daggers at Roman. If this man talked over her one more time, she was going to
explode.
And then he had the absolute nerve to ask her what was wrong.
Not wanting to get into it in front of Belinda, Ava kept her dreamy smile in place. “Nothing.”
His frown was concerned. “Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
She dropped the serene expression and scowled at him. “It’s my Resting Pleasant Face.”
He blinked. “Is that like the opposite of...”
“Resting Bitch Face? Yes.”
“How often do you do that?”
Ava flipped to the tasting section of her planner as they walked. “Do what?”
“Hide what you’re feeling.”
And because she was tired, hungry, and getting a fucking migraine, she answered honestly. “Always.”
As soon as she said it, she realized this was the first time she’d made this face around Roman.
Not only that, he was the first person to ever notice she was doing it.
Unable to confront the implications of those realizations, she ducked her head and pretended to study something in her planner.
He reached for her, his expression troubled, but Ava sidestepped. Before either of them could say anything more, Belinda ushered
them inside one of the smaller ballrooms for the tasting.
The resort’s head chef and in-house pastry chef had put together a custom menu. Jasmine had provided a series of questions
and notes for Ava to bring up, which were all tucked away in Ava’s planner. There was no way Roman was cutting her out this
time.
They’d been waiting for ten minutes when the chef stuck his head in to apologize and say a few things were running late. As
he was on his way out, Ava’s phone rang.
A glance at the screen showed that it was her stepmother, Olympia.
Ava sighed. She didn’t really feel like talking to Olympia right now, but she couldn’t bring herself to decline the call either.
What if it was an emergency?
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she told Roman and Belinda, who were discussing some of the recent weddings the resort had hosted.
“When I planned Ricky Martin’s cousin’s best friend’s wedding...” Belinda was saying, and Ava was actually sorry to miss
that story.
Tucking the planner under her arm, Ava accepted the call and ducked into the hallway. “Hi Olympia. What’s going on?”
“Ava, oh my god, I’m so glad you answered. I know you’re in Puerto Rico, but this child is going to be the death of me.”
Ava shut her eyes. There was only one child Olympia could be talking about. “Where is Willow now?”
“She stormed off to your grandmother’s house, but Ava, the things she said to me. I never would’ve dared to talk to my mother
like that.”
Biting back a sigh, Ava found a low sofa in the hall across from the ballroom doors and sat down. This would be a while. “She’s
sixteen. It’s a tough age.”
“All I did was suggest she put on a little makeup and a nice dress for our family photos, and she accused me of ‘upholding
the patriarchy,’ whatever that means!”
Of course they were taking family photos while Ava was out of town. Ava ignored the familiar pang of being left out and said, “Do you
want me to call her?”
“No, not yet. Just listen to this and tell me if I’m being unreasonable.”
At that, Ava rolled her eyes. As if she could ever tell Olympia such a thing.
By the time Ava hung up, forty-five minutes had passed. Every time she’d tried to go, Olympia had said tearfully, “And another thing!” before launching into something else Willow had done. Ava had explained as best she could that Willow was a normal teenager who needed space to grow, but it had been like talking to a brick wall. The whole time, Ava had been watching the clock and wishing she hadn’t taken the painkillers out of her purse when she’d repacked it. But Roman hadn’t come out to get her, so she figured the tasting was still delayed.
Finally, Olympia had said, “Oh, your father’s back. I have to fill him in.”
“Tell him I said hi,” Ava mumbled tiredly.
“You’re such a good listener, Ava. I wish Willow would be more like you were when you were her age.”
Ava fervently hoped her sister was never burdened with the kind of responsibilities Ava had, but all she said was goodbye.
When Ava returned to the ballroom, Roman was the only one there. He sat on a padded folding chair with one ankle crossed over
his knee, writing on his tablet with a stylus. He looked up when she walked in.
“Sorry about that,” she muttered. “It was my stepmother.”
He clicked the stylus onto the side of the tablet and closed the protective cover. “Everything okay?”
“The usual. She had a fight with my sister and needed me to reassure her that she’s a good mother.” Ava waved that away and
plastered on a bright smile, ready to give him another chance. “Where’s the food? Have you started yet?”
Roman got to his feet slowly. “It’s over.”
Her breath hitched. “What do you mean, over ?”
He checked his watch. “The tasting was already running late, and we didn’t want to delay further.”
“Wait a second.” Stunned, Ava looked around the empty ballroom, as if a platter of hors d’oeuvres might be hiding in a corner.
“You did the entire tasting without me?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. Belinda has organized hundreds of weddings, and I’m familiar with the resort’s offerings.
Come on. Let’s get back to the house.”
He reached for her arm, but she jerked away before he could touch her. Lack of sleep, a brewing migraine, and the fact that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours spiraled into a perfect storm of frustration. Her tone came out clipped.
“You know, I really don’t appreciate you making all these decisions without taking my thoughts into account.”
Roman’s brow creased, like he didn’t understand why she was upset. “You were on the phone. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Telling me the tasting had started wouldn’t have been bothering me.”
“If I’d known you were letting your stepmother badger you into doing emotional labor, I would have interrupted.” For the first
time, a hint of irritation threaded his words. “My apologies for thinking your call was important .”
He was right, but the way he said it got her back up, and she wasn’t going to let him steer this conversation toward her unhealthy
relationship with her family. “I don’t just mean now. You’ve been doing this the whole day.”
He shrugged and glanced at his watch again, which infuriated her even more. “Well, we already settled everything, so don’t
worry about it. It’s time for us to get going.”
Ava had spent too much time around children not to know when mischief was afoot, and the way he kept checking the time made
her teacher’s Spidey sense tingle. “Why couldn’t you wait for me? What’s the rush?”
“The chefs had other things to do,” he replied vaguely, with a quick look at his phone.
She narrowed her eyes. “ They had other things to do or you have other things to do?”
He didn’t answer immediately, which told her all she needed to know. The pieces clicked together, leaving her with a growing sense of outrage. “This is about what you said on the plane.”
His expression was carefully blank. “What did I say?”
She planted a hand on her hip. “You planned something for us. That’s why you’ve been rushing through everything with Belinda.
That’s why you didn’t wait for me to come back for the tasting.”
As he chewed the corner of his mouth, she expected him to deny it, but he nodded. “You’re right.”
She exploded. “I knew it. What is it? Some kind of fancy dinner? A cooking class with the island’s top chef?”
His sigh sounded annoyed. “A private sunset cruise.”
She barked out a humorless laugh. “I don’t believe this. I’m here to make sure my cousin’s wedding is perfect, and you’re
here to get laid.”
His dreamy brown eyes flashed, not with anger, but with hurt. “After all this time, you think that’s all you are to me? You
think I’d fly to Puerto Rico just for that?”
Even as she’d lobbed the accusation, she’d known she was being unfair, but she was too tired and irritable to feel bad about
it, and the pounding in her head had increased in tempo. Besides, she was nursing her own hurt feelings, and she was too wound
up to let him off the hook. “Well, I don’t think you’re here out of the goodness of your heart to help Ashton.”
“Of course I’m not.” He scoffed. “I wanted to spend time with you, and this is the only way you’d let me.”
Her heart gave a little leap at the words, but the scornful delivery made her throat tight. “If I mean so much to you, why
have you been talking over me all day, refusing to give me a second to think or ask questions?”
“I was helping . That’s what I’m here to do. Help make decisions for the wedding.”
“You weren’t helping, Roman. You were doing . And you completely cut me out of it.”
His brow creased in genuine confusion. “If you wanted to ask something, why didn’t you?”
“Because you never gave me a chance!” The words burst out of her, and any other time she would have been embarrassed at her
lack of control, but today, her emotions were too close to the surface, and she couldn’t tamp them down if she’d wanted to.
And for once, she didn’t fucking want to.
“Look,” she barreled on. “I get that you’re an expert at throwing galas or whatever, but I’m an expert on Jasmine. She’s been
looking forward to her wedding for practically her entire life. We can’t just make all the decisions based on what’s logical . It has to be perfect .”
Deep down, a little voice whispered, Are you sure you’re not just trying to make up for your own imperfect wedding? Ava smacked it down viciously.
She couldn’t explain why she felt like this was a do-over for her. Why Jasmine’s wedding had to be as perfect as she could
make it.
Why she felt like just maybe, if she did this part right, Jasmine would have not just the perfect wedding, but the perfect
marriage too. Ava might have blown it in the happily-ever-after department, but by god, she was going to ensure her cousin had the
ultimate happy ending.
Even if the combination of fierce family loyalty and bitter jealousy kept her up at night.
“I’m getting us through these meetings quickly and effi ciently.” Roman gestured at the planner tucked in the crook of her arm. “You’ve told me you’re trying not to overthink things anymore. I’m doing you a favor. Not everything requires extensive preparation.”
This wasn’t the first time someone— like Hector —had given her shit about her planner, and Ava hugged it to her chest, as if to protect it.
“There’s nothing wrong with being prepared,” she said defensively. “Not all of us can make snap decisions without thinking
them through.”
“I think things through, but I also trust myself. And my ability to trust my decisions has served me well.”
“You think I don’t trust myself?” She was verging on shrill, but the implication that she gave things a lot of thought because
she didn’t trust herself rankled.
His gaze shot heavenward, as if he were praying for patience. “You need more time to be comfortable making a decision. I need
less. That’s all. But if you need more, you have to ask for it.”
“Except we’re supposed to be working together ,” she shot back. “You didn’t ask me what I thought. You just steamrolled over me like what I think doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter.”
That, she realized, was the heart of it. This argument wasn’t just about Jasmine’s wedding. And it wasn’t about the ceremony
or the table arrangements or even the catering menu.
It was about her and Roman.
His dismissive attitude hurt far more than it should have if they were just the maid of honor and best man helping the bride
and groom, which meant she’d broken one of the original rules she’d set out for them that very first night.
No feelings .
She felt something for him, and that was why his disregard came as such a betrayal.
Not being asked for her thoughts made her feel like he didn’t value her input.
Which made her feel like he didn’t value her .
And that was, unfortunately, something she was all too familiar with.
Memories of planning her own wedding came to mind, and she couldn’t shut them out. Hector’s voice echoed through her throbbing
head.
Just make a decision, Ava . We don’t have all day . Stop making it more complicated than it needs to be .
She’d made extensive mood boards for her dream wedding, spent hours researching vendors and budgeting every cent—since Olympia
would never let her forget that Miguel was footing the bill—only for Hector to come in at the eleventh hour and scrap everything.
It should’ve been a sign. But she’d been so focused on their future, she hadn’t seen the red flags waving right in front of
her face.
Now here she was, once again trying to plan a wedding while a man walked all over her.
Old Ava would have hidden the messy feelings behind her Resting Pleasant Face. But she was hangry. And headache-y. And so
unbelievably tired of being made to feel like she didn’t matter.
So New Ava said exactly what was on her mind.
“You know who treated me like that?” Her voice shook a little, but remained strong. “My ex. He talked over me, never listened,
and said I took too long to do... well, everything . It made me feel worthless. And I will be damned if I let a man make me feel that way ever again.”
As her words sank in, Roman’s expression turned stricken. “God, Ava. I’m sorry. I was trying to help, and I didn’t realize—”
“I don’t care whether you realized it or not,” she snapped. “You’ve seen all the big personalities in my family. I’m tired
of fighting to be heard. I want someone to care enough to give me the space to think and speak without my having to beg for
it.”
If she’d had a mic, she would have dropped it. She turned to go.
He caught her wrist. “Please, Ava. Let’s—”
“ Space , Roman.” She tugged her arm away. Her head felt like it was going to crack open, and she wasn’t in the mood for his apologies.
“I’m walking back. Don’t follow me.”
Clutching her beloved planner to her chest, she strode out of the room.