Chapter 38
Two Weeks Until the Wedding
Jasmine’s bridal shower was held in a suite at the Dulce Flor. Ava never would’ve had the guts to ask Roman for such a favor,
for fear that he’d think she was using him for free event space or something like that. Luckily, Ashton had no such qualms,
and Ava was saved from trying to host the shower in her grandmother’s living room.
It was half an hour before the party was officially set to begin and the suite was in chaos. All the tías had shown up early
bearing trays of food, and now, after decimating the first pitcher of mimosas Ava had made, they were standing around gossiping
amid spontaneous bursts of salsa dancing. Marc Anthony blasted from the speakers in the seating area, where Abuela Esperanza
and Titi Nereida were engaged in an argument about seasoning with Jasmine’s other grandmother, Lola Sofia, and Jasmine’s aunt,
Tita Myra, who had both flown in from San Diego. Ava and Michelle were setting out warming pans.
“More food.” Jasmine plopped a large aluminum foil tray labeled “bacalaitos” on the dining table and knocked over a stack of pink “Here Comes the Bride!” napkins in the process. She cursed under her breath as she righted them. “I should’ve had this thing catered.”
Michelle ripped open a package of matching bridal plates. “Bad enough you’re not holding the shower at Abuela’s house. If
you didn’t let them bring food, you’d be hearing about how you’re too good for Abuela’s arroz or Titi Nereida’s pastelillos
for the rest of your life.”
“And Ronnie’s still pissed you didn’t let her plan the engagement party,” Ava added. “Giving her full rein over the shower
decorations was the compromise.”
Jasmine eyed the giant balloon arch Ronnie was erecting in the seating area. “That looks like it belongs at a baby shower.”
It did, but Ava tried to look on the bright side. “At least Ronnie went with blush pink instead of mint green. She told me
that was her other color option.”
Jasmine pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned.
“Where do you want these?” Jillian asked, clomping over with a box of forty goody bags, which Ava knew contained bracelets
made by Titi Val, coffee-scented candles made by Willow, and rustic handmade soaps from Ronnie’s mom, Titi Nita. The bags
themselves had been decorated by Ronnie’s stepdaughter.
Ava took the box. “I’ll set them up near the gifts.”
Jasmine sniffed one of the bags. “When did our family get so crafty?”
“Everyone needs a hobby,” Jillian said with a shrug.
Their grandmother hurried over to them. “Muchachas, tengo mas goodies for the bags.”
“That’s my cue to leave,” Jillian muttered, ducking away.
Esperanza reached into her purse and pulled out a fistful of square white packets. “My friend at the makeup store gave me some extra skincare samples.”
Michelle took one and read the label. “Nighttime eye cream? What are you trying to say, Abuela?”
“No necesito decir nada. The shopping bags under your eyes say it all.” Esperanza dumped the samples into Jasmine’s hands.
Half of them fell on the floor.
Jasmine opened her mouth, closed it, then just said, “Thanks, Abuela.”
After Esperanza sailed away to greet Olympia and Willow, Jasmine sighed. “It hasn’t been announced, but I have a sponsorship
deal with a skincare line. I have to call and make sure this doesn’t violate that agreement.”
“No rest for the rich and famous,” Michelle teased, and Jasmine groaned.
“You wouldn’t believe the number of brands who’ve reached out about swag bags for the wedding guests.”
“Ooh, you’re having swag bags?” Michelle asked.
“No! This isn’t the Oscars. Although we’ve had a surprising number of offers from publications who want to cover the wedding
as an exclusive,” Jasmine admitted.
“Are you going to do it?” Ava asked.
Jasmine shook her head. “It’s tempting. They’re offering a lot of money—and I mean a lot —but this is private. Letting the press into our personal lives is a slippery slope.”
“Good choice,” Ava said. Considering the spotlight had nearly torn Jasmine and Ashton’s relationship apart before it had the
chance to begin, the decision made sense.
Jasmine pulled out her phone. “I’d better call and check on this brand thing.”
“Don’t bother.” Without a second’s hesitation, Ava scooped up the eye cream samples and dumped them into the trash. “We’ll say they got misplaced.”
Michelle raised her eyebrows. “Who are you and what have you done with my cousin?”
Ava fought a smile. Was this New Ava rearing her head, without any prompting? “I’m going to make another pitcher of mimosas
before the tías stage a riot.”
She rounded the counter into the suite’s kitchen and pulled champagne and orange juice from the fridge. She mixed two pitchers
and was carrying them to the beverage table when she caught sight of Esperanza and Willow. Abuela was plucking at the sleeve
of Willow’s shirt and wearing a critical expression Ava was all too familiar with.
“You know I don’t understand Spanish, Grandma,” Willow said, pulling away. “Isn’t one colonizer language enough? Why do I
need to speak two?”
“Colonizer?” Esperanza repeated, then she rounded on Ava, her dark eyes flashing. “?De qué está hablando?”
“Teenage slang,” Ava muttered, not wanting to get into an explanation of the colonial history of the United States or the Caribbean. “What’s going on?”
Esperanza gestured broadly toward Willow’s clothes. “I said she looks like she’s going to a clown’s funeral.”
Ava glanced at her sister. Willow wore an oversize black-and-white-checked sweater vest and wide-legged black trousers rolled
up to reveal chunky Doc Martens on her feet. The outfit was very much in line with Willow’s aesthetic, which she called “weekend
Wednesday Addams.”
Willow’s chin trembled as she met Ava’s gaze, and she looked to be seconds away from ruining the smoky eye Ava had taught
her to do.
Ava quickly set down the mimosas and did something she almost never did around her grandmother.
She drew herself up to her full height.
“Abuela,” Ava said, in a voice that was quiet but firm. “Willow is seventeen. She is allowed to make her own choices about
what she wants to wear. Just because her personal style is different from yours doesn’t give you the right to make her feel
bad about it.”
“Pero she’s such a pretty girl, if she’d only—”
“This is her body,” Ava interrupted. “No one gets to dictate what she does with it. Not even you.”
Esperanza, perhaps realizing that she had a new opponent, switched to Spanish and let loose a barrage of tried and true Latina
grandma jabs.
Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?
I can say whatever I want to anybody .
I’m just telling the truth—
In the middle of it, Willow mouthed a teary “thank you” to Ava and slipped away.
Ava stood her ground, Esperanza’s angry words crashing against her like waves battering a cliff in a storm. Ava didn’t argue,
she didn’t talk back, but nor did she back down.
And for once, her grandmother’s criticism didn’t touch her.
Instead, she recalled her high school graduation party.
Her grandmother had pressed a hundred dollar bill into her hands and given her a tight hug.
We were so worried you were going to do something foolish, like major in drama , Abuela had said.
It had been a dig at Jasmine, who’d been standing right next to Ava. Everyone had known Jasmine’s dream school was Juilliard.
Ava had accepted the money and murmured, That wouldn’t have been practical , but the words had pricked like daggers on her tongue, because deep down, she’d wished she had Jasmine’s courage.
Her whole life, this was what Ava had been trying to protect herself from. She’d twisted herself into knots to avoid her grandmother’s
ire.
And where the fuck had it gotten her?
Nowhere. Her grandma was an angry old woman, and no amount of outward perfection would change that.
“Bwela.” Ava broke into the tirade and leaned down to kiss Esperanza’s cheek. “Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee?”
Esperanza blinked, and her face cleared. Maybe she sensed this for the olive branch it was, or maybe she was just winding
down, because she nodded and returned Ava’s kiss. “Sí, nena. Pero not too sweet, tú sabes? My blood sugar.”
“I know.” Ava carried the pitchers she’d abandoned over to the beverage table and began to fix a cup of coffee when Titi Val
joined her.
“Hi mamita.” Titi Val rubbed Ava’s back between her shoulder blades. “What was the old lady lambasting you for this time?”
Ava huffed out a laugh and felt some of the tension in her body ease. “You saw that, huh?”
“Sure did.”
Of all of Ava’s aunts, Titi Val was the one Ava had always felt closest to. Maybe it was because Val was Ava’s godmother and best friends with Patricia, or maybe it was because Ava had slept over at her and Uncle Dom’s house countless times. Ava still had a set of keys, which was how she’d discovered that Mi chelle and Gabe were hooking up last year. Make no mistake, Valentina Rodriguez Amato was as big a gossip as they came, but Ava would never forget the way Titi Val had stood up to Esperanza after the announcement of Ava’s divorce.
“She said something mean to Willow about her outfit,” Ava explained. “I told her not to do that.”
“Ah. That went over well, I see.” Val’s eyebrow quirked. “Mami can be a bitch, but we all love her anyway.”
Ava’s hands slowed as she stirred sugar substitute into her grandmother’s coffee. Her aunt was right. Esperanza was controlling
and difficult at times, but they still loved her.
What if—
“You’ve been doing a lot to help with this wedding,” Val observed. “Don’t overdo it, okay? Ask for help.”
“I will,” Ava replied automatically.
But her aunt’s smile was knowing. “No, you won’t. Here, I’ll bring the vieja her coffee. Why don’t you pour yourself a mimosa
and take a minute to yourself before this shindig really gets going?”
Ava gave her aunt a grateful smile and took her advice. She was just finishing her drink when the door to the suite opened
and a raucous cry went up—the sound of half a dozen Puerto Rican women exclaiming over the real life telenovela actor in their
midst.
Michelle came up to Ava and rolled her eyes. “You’d think they’d be used to him by now.”
Ava glanced over to see Ashton strolling into the suite, his arms laden with shopping bags. As usual, the family he was marrying
into pelted him with questions about his various TV roles over the past two decades.
“When’s the Victor in Charge spinoff?” Titi Nita called out, referencing Carmen in Charge , the telenovela remake that Jasmine and Ashton had starred in together.
“Never,” Ashton quipped, treating them to a dazzling smile. “We all know that Jasmine, I mean, Carmen , is in charge.”
As if it were a movie, the crowd around Ashton parted for Jasmine to approach. He leaned down to plant a kiss on his fiancée’s
waiting lips, much to the delight of the assembled relatives. They clapped and oohed like it was the final frame of a romantic
comedy.
Michelle sipped her mimosa. “They really have no shame.”
“Jasmine and Ashton?” Ava asked, and Michelle snorted.
“No, our family.”
Just then, the door opened again and Gabe, Michelle’s boyfriend, walked in carrying a tray of conchas covered in plastic wrap.
The Mexican pastry was his mother’s specialty, and Michelle had asked her to make them for the shower.
“Here we go,” Michelle said with a sigh, and she tipped back her glass to drain it.
On cue, the women shifted their attention from Ashton to Gabe. He wore a tight tank top that showed off his powerfully built
upper body and arms.
Ava shot Michelle a smirk. “Did you tell him to wear that?”
Michelle’s light brown eyes gleamed with mischief, and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip as she gazed at her boyfriend.
“I sure the hell did. And I told him to flex a lot while carrying those conchas, just to whip them into a frenzy.”
“You better go rescue him before Titi Nita grabs his butt again. She’s already at least two mimosas deep.”
“If anyone’s going to grab his butt, it should be me.” Michelle set aside her empty glass, then strode forward to claim her
man.
Ava watched her go and realized that the feeling she usually had when she saw her cousins with their partners was absent. She dug a little further and no, the jealousy that was at times nearly painful in its intensity wasn’t there. Or at least, nowhere near as strong as it had been during other recent family events.
Before she could examine that thought further, the door opened again, and this time, Ava’s heart lurched.
It was Roman.
He wore a charcoal gray suit and a wide grin, and he carried a bucket of expensive champagne bottles.
At the sight of him, Ava’s chest heaved, and she struggled to take a deep breath. God, she’d missed him so much. He’d been
traveling for work, and it had been two weeks since she’d last seen him. Every single cell in her body wanted to run to him,
to throw her arms around his neck and press herself to him, to breathe in his scent and sink into the steady strength of his
embrace. Resisting the urge was a physical ache, the sense of longing settling over her like a cold fog.
“On behalf of the Dulce, para mis dulces,” he announced.
The ladies ate it up, fluttering and tittering around him. Jasmine and Ashton greeted him, then went about introducing him
to everyone, many of whom recognized him from the engagement party. Roman passed the champagne to Gabe and moved through the
crowd with ease and charm, fitting in among Ava’s family like he belonged there.
Ava’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass as she took him in.
Yes, Ashton was movie star handsome and Gabe was built like a superhero, but Roman shone with an inner light that called to her like nothing and no one ever had. He radiated genuine goodness and a real interest in people, and when he met her eyes across the room, what she saw there speared into her, as sudden and breathtaking as a lightning strike.
The breath backed up in her lungs. No. Oh god, no.
Damn it, she hadn’t wanted this again. Hadn’t wanted this all-consuming wealth of feeling.
But here it was.
She...
Fuck.
She loved him.
Loved him back, more accurately, because the truth was written all over his face, as plain as day to anyone paying attention.
Luckily, no one except Ava was looking at him. Everyone was too busy laughing at something Ashton had said. They didn’t see
the quiet, adoring look Roman sent her, one she was probably reflecting back to him. Unless her face was revealing the shock
of her revelation.
But even as she thought it, the shock melted away, leaving only gentle acceptance. She’d felt this coming. It was different
than before—steadier, more mature. Maybe because she was steadier and more mature. And it wasn’t a surprise—how could it be? Roman was everything she could ever hope to find
in another person—playful, caring, honest, open. And he was hers .
Except she couldn’t claim him. Couldn’t walk right up to him and plant a big, smacking kiss right on that soft, agile mouth.
Not in front of her family.
Cold despair filled her, along with—ah. The familiar prick of jealousy. Her cousins could go to their men without fear, but
Ava couldn’t.
Her eyes fell on her grandmother, on Titi Nereida, on Titi Nita, on Olympia. The echoes of their past words, ranging from censorious to accusatory to passive aggressive, rang in her head, holding her rooted to the spot.
She’s not even pregnant!
Just apologize for whatever you did.
Not everything is meant to last, you know.
Let’s not talk about unpleasant things like divorce.
Ava shook their voices away.
Maybe she wasn’t brave enough to go over there and grab him, but nor could she stay away from the man she loved a second longer.
As he made his way farther into the suite, she moved to intercept him.
“Roman, can you help me with something?” she asked nonchalantly.
He smiled. “Of course.”
She led him down a short hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind them.
“What did you need help wi—”
Ava cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss.
Roman—beautifully sharp, quick-witted Roman—didn’t miss a beat. His hands gripped her waist and drew her closer. His mouth
slanted, deepening the kiss. As his tongue slid against hers, Ava felt it from her lips down to the tips of her toes and back
up, desire twisting low in her belly and making her whimper. Her hands trailed down his neck to grip his lapels.
“I missed you,” she said breathlessly against his lips. “I missed you so much.”
The words I love you welled up, but they were too new, too scary, too private. She needed to turn them over in her head and examine them more
closely.
Even as her heart whispered, There’s nothing to think about .
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. His hands molded over her hips and around to grab her ass. “Come with me next time. I can’t be away from you this long again.”
“Where?” She let out a little laugh as he dragged his mouth down her neck, licking and nipping and biting. Her toes curled
in her sandals.
“Wherever.” His voice was muffled against her collarbones. “Anywhere I go. Come with me.”
The idea was too exciting, too tempting. “I’ll think about it,” she said, and pulled his face back to hers.
“I know you will.”
Her mouth swallowed the rest of his dark chuckle and they were kissing again, deep and hungry, the only sounds in the room
the soft little moans in the back of her throat and the groan rumbling in his chest.
And then the door opened behind them with a sharp squeak.
Gasping, Ava tore herself away from Roman and stared.
Gabe stood in the doorway in his too-small tank top, one hand on the doorknob, his dark eyes quickly sweeping them, from their
wet, swollen lips to their rumpled clothes to—
Shit . Instead of letting go, Roman’s hands had tightened on her ass, the fabric of her skirt bunching to the tops of her thighs.
There was absolutely no misreading the situation.
Gabe’s face went blank. Without a word, he backed out of the room and started to shut the door again.
With a speed that was nearly superhuman, Ava leapt forward and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t tell Michelle,” she ordered, still breathless from the kiss. “Do you hear me? Don’t tell her.”
Gabe was strong enough that he could have torn himself from her grip if he’d wanted to, but he froze. His features twisted and he made a pained noise in the back of his throat, something close to a whine. “Why are you doing this to me, Ava? That woman can sniff out secrets like a bloodhound. She’ll know I’m hiding something.”
“You owe me for staying quiet about you sneaking in and out of Titi Val’s house last year,” Ava hissed.
Gabe squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. “Fuck. All right.”
When he opened his eyes, he shot Roman a warning look. Then he left and closed the door behind him.
“Drinks with the guys just got more interesting,” Roman said in a mild tone.
Ava pressed her hands to her face as horror doused her libido like a bucket of ice water. “This is a disaster. Now Ashton
and Gabe know.”
Taking her in his arms, Roman stroked a thumb over the curve of her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “Would it really
be the end of the world if everyone knew?”
Yes , she thought, but all she said was, “Just give me until after the wedding. Please? You said we could hold off until then.”
Something flickered across his face and she expected him to argue, but after a short nod, he dropped a gentle kiss to her
forehead. “Anything you want, mi amor.” Then he stepped back and gestured to the door. “After you.”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned back to him. “Wait a few minutes before you—”
“I know,” he said, and waved her on. His smile looked tired, sort of frayed around the edges, and she remembered that he’d just arrived that morning after a long flight. He worked too damn hard. They should’ve been lounging in his bed, watching movies and playing with Sinvergüenza, instead of sneaking kisses behind her relatives’ backs at a bridal shower. She wanted to hold him in her arms, to insist he take a nap, and then, when he was sound asleep, whisper to him that she loved him. Instead, she opened the door and slipped into the hallway.
She stopped in the bathroom first to make sure she didn’t look too mussed. While she was there, she stared at her reflection
and whispered, “You dummy.”
This is your fault , that nasty little voice whispered.
A month ago, she would have freaked out and broken up with him. But New Ava or whomever the hell she was now didn’t want that.
She loved Roman. And she wanted some kind of relationship with him, along with the time and space to figure it out without other people’s
opinions or expectations.
Roman’s words came back to her.
Would it really be the end of the world if everyone knew?
Maybe not, but her family’s interference would put stress onto something that felt as fragile as the first blooms of spring,
and, despite the fact that she’d been in love before, unfamiliar. Didn’t she deserve this? Something that was just hers, at
least for a while longer? Didn’t she and Roman deserve the chance to find their way in this new and budding relationship without
input from everyone else?
Except now Ashton and Gabe knew, while Jasmine and Michelle didn’t .
Ava covered her face with her hands, unable to look at herself any longer. God, what a fucking mess.
She knew she should tell Jasmine. She absolutely should tell Jasmine .
But the wedding was just two short weeks away. Jasmine had more than enough on her plate without worrying about the possibility
of her maid of honor ruining her big day.
Ava loved Roman. There was no denying it. And he said he loved her. While she did trust him, a teeny, tiny part of her still didn’t believe it. And that part could just imagine a world where in the next couple weeks, this thing between them turned bitter and sour and dramatic and messy . It would put Jasmine and Ashton into an awkward position. It would turn attention away from the main focus—their wedding—and
put it on Ava and her fucked up love life.
Be good, Ava .
She couldn’t cause a problem for her cousin. Which meant she couldn’t tell Jasmine about Roman. Not yet, anyway. Someday.
Soon , she told herself.
They just needed to be careful. No more slip-ups before the wedding. After that, they’d figure it out.
Ava slapped on her Resting Pleasant Face and left the bathroom.