23. Mariana
Mariana
T he night started with a bottle of wine, an ungodly amount of fries, and a little bit of chaos. Anna had texted me earlier in the day: “You owe me a night of drinking and chisme. I don’t make the rules.”
I’d laughed at my phone before replying, “Fine. Bring wine. No rules.”
And now here we were, two glasses deep, sprawled on my couch, a mess of takeout containers spread out on the coffee table. The living room was warm and cozy, the scent of vanilla candles mixing with the salty aroma of fries and the rich tang of red wine.
Anna tucked her legs under her, holding her glass.
“Okay, but real talk,” she said, eyes sharp, ready for all the bochinche she could get.
“How the hell did we get here? Because a few months ago, you swore up and down that you guys were ‘so in the past,’ and now you’re taking boat rides under the moonlight? ”
I groaned, sinking back against the couch. “It’s not that dramatic.”
Anna made a high-pitched noise, “Are you serious? Sebastian freaking Garcia? The love of your life? The boy you would have married if you didn’t move?
Who, by the way, has been hopelessly in love with you since forever—probably before that, to be honest.” She waved her wine glass, nearly sloshing it on the couch. “That’s the definition of dramatic.”
I sighed, tilting my head back. “It’s different now.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Different how?”
I hesitated. The words sat at the back of my throat, tangled between fear and truth. “Because I’m different now.”
She didn’t argue or push. She just gave me the space to be; she knew me well enough to understand that the weight of those words was real, that I didn’t need prodding—just presence.
I took another sip of wine, rolling the glass between my hands.
“I spent so long thinking I had to do everything alone. Even when I was with Andrew, I never felt like it was a true partnership. And after Andrew, I thought that I was better off alone, that if I let someone in and leaned on them, it would mean I was weak.” I let out a soft laugh.
“But Sebastian never makes me feel weak. He makes me feel like…”
Anna leaned in, waiting.
I swallowed. “Like it’s safe to want something again.”
Her face softened. “Damn. That was beautiful.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
She grinned, but before she could respond, there was a knock at the door. Anna shot me a look. “You expecting someone?”
I frowned. “No.”
I got up, padded toward the front of the door, and when I swung it open, Analyse stood on the other side, holding two bottles of wine in the air, one in each hand.
“Hope you don’t mind me crashing. But Sebastian told me you guys were here, Maya’s spending the weekend with my parents, and I’m in need of a girls' night.”
I blinked. “No, of course not! The more, the merrier.
Anna perked up from the couch. “Ay dios mio! Nowwww it’s a party!”
Analyse laughed as she walked in, kicking off her shoes like she’d been there a hundred times before. She held up one of the bottles. “I figured you wouldn’t be drinking the good stuff, so I brought something decent.”
Anna gasped. “Rude!”
I snorted, taking the bottle from her. “She’s not wrong.”
We refilled our glasses, and just like that, the night shifted into something easy, something effortless. There was something about being surrounded by women who knew you inside and out, who could call you out on your bullshit while also hyping you up to ridiculous levels.
At one point, Anna stood, one hand on her hip, waving her glass. “Okay, important question.”
Analyse smirked. “This is going to be stupid, isn’t it?”
Anna ignored her. “Mariana. How good is Sebastian in bed? Because if you tell me he’s anything less than mind-blowing, I will be personally offended.”
I nearly choked on my wine. “Anna!”
She gasped, pointing. “Oh my god! That reaction says it all.”
Analyse groaned loudly, slapping a hand over her ears. “Nope. Absolutely not. That’s my brother. I don’t need this mental image. I’m leaving.”
Anna smirked. “No, you’re not. Sit down.”
Analyse dramatically pressed her hands to her temples. “Mariana, please, spare me. I already have to witness the eye contact. Don’t make me hear about it too.”
Anna cackled. “The eye contact?”
“It’s disgusting,” Analyse said flatly. “They look at each other like they’re starring in a telenovela. I feel like I should turn away half the time.”
I groan, covering my face. “I hate both of you.”
Analyse just grinned, clinking her glass against mine. “No, you don’t. Can we talk about something else?”
Anna waggled her eyebrows. “Fine. Let’s talk about how you’re basically married now.”
“I AM NOT-”
“Oh, you totally are,” Analyse cut in, smirking, “You two are disgustingly in love. It’s cute.”
Anna sighed dramatically, swirling her wine. “Just like old times.”
I huffed, crossing my arms. “We’re taking it slow.”
Anna snorted, “Taking it slow? You’re all over each other in public.”
Analyse nodded. “I’m pretty sure Maya already thinks that you’re her Tia, meaning you’re my sister!”
I let out a loud groan. “You two are impossible.”
Anna grinned. “You love us.”
I sighed, taking another sip of wine. “Unfortunately.”
The conversation shifted after that, melting into old stories and new confessions, a ton of laughter. By the time the wine bottle was empty, and we were all sprawled across the couch, giggling at nothing, I realized that this night was exactly what I needed.
Anna propped herself up on one elbow, eyes gleaming. “Okay, but enough about us—what about you, Analyse?”
Analyse made a face. “What about me?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Any new confessions you’d like to share?”
Her expression stayed carefully neutral, but the slight flicker of her gaze didn’t go unnoticed. “Nope.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Not even a tiny little crush?”
Analyse smirked, reaching for the empty bottle as if contemplating whether she could squeeze another drop out of it. “Wait, did I miss the memo? Why are we even talking about me? I thought tonight was the Mariana’s Love Life special.”
“Oh, that means yes,” Anna said triumphantly.
“I hate you both,” Analyse muttered, but the way she bit back a smile only made me more certain.
I stretched my legs out, feigning casual. “You and Mateo have been spending a lot of time together…”
Analyse groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “Oh my God. Not this.”
Anna’s eyes widened with delight. “Mateo?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Now that would be interesting.”
Analyse exhaled sharply, grabbing a couch pillow and shoving it over her face. “I hate you both so much.”
Anna patted her knee. “That’s fair. But we love you.”
Silence settled over us for a beat, and eventually, Analyse stretched, yawning as she nudged Anna’s leg with her foot. “Alright, we should probably call it. Some of us have responsible things to do tomorrow.”
Anna groaned, rolling onto her stomach. “Ugh. Reality.”
Analyse rubbed a hand over her face. “Yep. And it’s coming for us in about six hours.”
I sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “Okay, but tell me this wasn’t exactly what we needed.”
Anna hummed in response, her wine glass balanced on her stomach, eyes half-closed.
It had been a damn good night—wine, laughter, my girls, and just the right touch of chaos.