10. VANESSA
VANESSA
Paris didn’t take his eyes off me during the entire ceremony, and I want to know why. I can’t believe Aunt Lorena invited the Andinos, knowing how my mother feels about them.
Actually, I can. Mom and Aunt Lorena are stepsisters and never truly got along.
Their relationship makes mine with Heather look like rainbows and cupcakes.
Heather gets on my nerves, and I get on hers, but that’s mostly because we’re super different.
We aren’t besties, but I know she has my back and I have hers.
Just as Lorena and her new husband—I already forgot his name, because I’m that bad at remembering details that don’t interest me—are declared married, I notice Granduncle Walter looking a little pale.
While everyone else pays attention to the newlyweds as they return down the aisle together, I check on him.
“ Tio , are you okay?”
“ Que? ” he leans closer, cupping his right ear.
“I asked if you’re okay,” I shout.
“ Ta muito calor. Muito calor .” He yanks at his tie, trying to loosen it.
It’s not even that hot out here, but maybe he’s taking some medication that makes him flush, or his jacket is too thick. It does look like it’s made of a heavy material.
“I’ll get you some water,” I say, and receive a blank stare in return.
He understands and speaks perfect English, but I repeat it in Portuguese just the same, and then use a shortcut to get to the reception’s nearest bar.
When I’m halfway there, it occurs to me that I should have helped him into some shade.
But I’m pretty sure if I return without the water, he’s going to be unhappy, and he’ll let me know it.
He’s famous for his sharp tongue. I hike up my skirt and quicken my steps.
The heels of my sandals sink into the grass, making my progression slower than I would have liked.
As long as I don’t trip again, I’ll be fine.
The bartender looks bored when I reach him, but his face splits into a fake smile a second later.
“Hi, can I get some water, please?” I ask.
“Of course.”
I grab the water and thank him. Urgency makes me turn around too fast, and I end up colliding with the person who was right behind me.
“Oops. Sor—oh, it’s you.”
Paris was the solid chest I collided with, and now my face is in flames. He looks too damn fine in a suit.
“You sound disappointed,” he says through a smirk.
“Just surprised.”
“I thought you saw me earlier.”
“I did.” God, I’m wasting time making a fool of myself while Granduncle Walter is withering under the sun. “I’m sorry. I have to get this water back to my granduncle. He isn’t feeling well.”
In a flash, the mirth vanishes from Paris’s eyes and his serious mode activates. “What’s the matter with him?”
“I don’t know. He was complaining about being too hot. He’s probably just dehydrated, right?”
“Where is he?”
“He’s sitting in the front row.”
“Let’s get back to him, then.”
Unbidden, he laces his arm with mine and steers me back through the grass path.
I’m not sure if he’s doing it because he saw me walking with difficulty earlier or if there’s another reason.
All I know is that my heart is beating much faster now, and I’m too aware of the feel of his strong arm against mine.
Mercifully, we find Granduncle Walter alive and well.
I uncap the bottle and hand it to him. “Here’s your water, tio Walter.”
“ Ah, muito obrigado, querida .” He takes a few sips and then lets out a satisfied sigh. Then his sharp gaze takes in Paris standing next to me. “ E esse rapaz, quem é ?”
I open my mouth to translate, but Paris extends his hand. “I’m Paris Andino. Nice to meet you, sir.”
A spark of recognition lights up his eyes as they shake hands. “Ah, you’re Dr. Andino’s kid.”
“That’s correct. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes. Much better. But I could use some assistance getting back inside.”
“Of course.” Paris steps forward and helps Granduncle Walter from his chair.
Instead of taking my shortcut, he leads him down the aisle, leaving me no choice but to follow the duo. It’s a short walk, but Paris maintains a slow pace. He seems content chatting with my granduncle, and I’m shocked that the old man is giving him the time of the day. He’s a grumpy son of a bitch.
Is there anyone in the universe who doesn’t fall prey to Paris’s charms?
I get my answer not much later. As Paris leads Granduncle Walter through the double doors of the beachfront mansion, Mom comes out of nowhere and stops me from following them.
“What were you doing with that Andino boy, Vanessa?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Mom has never forgotten about the wine-and-kiss incident. After they busted us, there was a huge argument between my parents and Paris’s folks, which resulted in a fallout. Soon after, the Andinos changed parishes.
“He’s a guest here, Mom.”
“So? Do you plan to socialize with every single person at the reception?”
“He goes to the same school I do, or have you forgotten? We run in the same circles.”
Her spine goes taut. “I’d prefer if you didn’t. That boy got you drunk and took advantage of you. God only knows what would have happened if we hadn’t found you. I can’t believe Lorena had the audacity to invite his family.”
Myriad emotions rush through me, and I don’t know which one is strongest. I’m angry at my mother for making a big deal about something that happened eons ago, and distraught thanks to the reminder that what she feared could happen then did actually happen yesterday—or almost did.
And the boy she mistrusts so much is the one who saved me.
“I heard it was Vanessa who attacked Paris that day,” Heather says as she joins us.
I’d tell her to suck a lemon, but her interruption is much appreciated.
Mom strikes faster than a cobra. “Those rumors were spread by that awful woman.”
By awful woman , she means Mrs. Nora Andino, Paris’s mother. It’s been only an hour since this event started, and already the drama level is high. I need a drink stat if I hope to survive the rest of the day and evening.
Now that Mom is distracted by Heather, I slink away into the house and head to the busiest area inside, which, conveniently, is near one of the bars.
Unfortunately, my path gets blocked by another pissed-off parent—Paris’s mother.
“Hello, Mrs. Andino. Long time no see,” I say in sugary tone.
Her eyes narrow as she gives me a head-to-toe appraising glance. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”
I’m ninety-nine percent sure that was meant as an insult, but I play along. “I disagree. I’m taller, and now I have these.” I grab my breasts, pushing them higher. It took a while, but I finally caught up with Heather in the curves department.
Mrs. Andino’s eyes bug out before they narrow to slits. “Crass as always. And I’m the bad guy for telling everyone you weren’t the victim.”
Fuck . Why is everyone hell-bent on reminding me of that day? It rubs raw a wound that’s still bleeding. I bet if she knew what happened last night, she’d blame me for that as well.
“A pleasure as always, Mrs. Andino.” I walk around her, hating that my eyes are now burning. I’m not going to cry over her cheap insult.
The bar is busy, and I need more than a glass of wine to calm my nerves.
I spy a waiter going to the kitchen, so I follow him.
No one pays me any attention as I search for the stash of booze.
I finally locate a closet where there are several cases of wine, whiskey, gin, and other spirits.
Picking something strong would be the smart choice, but I don’t want to get drunk too fast. I choose a red wine, glad it’s one of those bottles with a twist cap.
I can’t return to the party holding my prize, so I veer for the door that leads out the side of the house where several white catering vans are parked.
I want solitude, so I keep walking until I find the gate that leads to the beach.
Since high-heeled sandals and sand don’t mesh well, I get rid of my shoes and leave them by the gate before continuing my trek.
The moment my bare feet touch the sand, a sense of peace washes over me. I take deep breaths and stare the ocean. The feelings of impotence and unworthiness slowly leave my body. Can I spend the entire reception here?
I’m supposed to be taking official pictures right now, but fuck that.
I don’t want to capture how dreadful I feel for eternity.
No one will care that I’m not in them anyway.
I was never close to Lorena—I was asked to be in the wedding party only because they felt they had to include me as family.
Lorena will probably be thankful I’m not in the pictures.
Plus, I’m already considered the black sheep of the family—might as well live up to my reputation.
Before I take a sip of wine, I walk around a natural bend in the beach to where a tall stone wall conceals me from any wedding guest onlookers.
Feeling dejected, I sit on a small boulder and unscrew the bottle cap.
The first swig is a large one, but the next swallows are not even mouthfuls.
Drinking the wine too fast would mean I’d have to get another bottle soon.
“Care for company?” Paris’s smooth voice reaches me through the wind.
I glance at him, noticing he took off his shoes as well. His tie is gone, and the first two buttons of his shirt are unfastened.
“I’d ask how you found me, but it seems following my trail has become your specialty.”
One corner of his lips twitches up. “I saw you take the stairs to the beach from my vantage point. Your granduncle is fine by the way.”
The jerkface is trying to make feel bad for not asking, so I shrug and pretend his comment doesn’t bother me. “He’s a tough one. I wasn’t concerned.”
“Sure, sure.”
“We have a saying in Brazil— vaso ruim n?o quebra ,” I continue, and then take another sip.
“I suppose you’re not going to translate that for me.” He sits next to me on the boulder—uninvited—brushing his shoulder against mine.
“I thought you spoke Portuguese, or at least understood it.”
“What Walter said was easy enough to guess.”
“Walter, is it?” I raise an eyebrow, giving him a side glance. “I didn’t know you were already buddies.”
“What can I say? We clicked.” He meets my stare, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.
I look away in a rush before I drown in them.
Then I bring the bottle to my lips, wishing the alcohol would start working already and melt away this new tension caused by Paris’s presence.
I can’t deal with all the emotions his nearness is stirring in me.
It’s clearer than ever that he is my weakness.
“Can I have some of that?” he asks.
“Sure.” I pass the bottle to him without looking, and then force my eyes to stay focused on the waves crashing against the shore.
We remain quiet for a while, and because I’m wrestling with my heart, I don’t ask for the wine back. That’d mean talking to Paris some more.
He breaks the silence. “I’m sorry if my mother said something that upset you.”
“She didn’t say anything she hasn’t before.” Since he forced me to talk, I reclaim the wine, and this time, I drink a big gulp.
“Easy. There’s more where that came from.”
Like the classy girl I’m not, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t want to go back too soon. In fact, I want to stay out here for as long as I can.”
He doesn’t offer a comment for a while, and I begin to relax. Or maybe it’s the wine finally kicking in.
“I’m in awe that you’re here to begin with,” he murmurs.
“Why would you say that?” I snap. “Did you expect me to curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out instead?”
“I… well, no. But… are you okay?”
I turn so he can see my scowl, and I realize my mistake a second later when I’m blasted by his charged stare. There are so many emotions swimming in his gaze, I can’t possibly decipher them.
“Yes,” I hiss and jump to my feet to put much-needed distance between us.
“You don’t need to pretend with me, Vanessa. I don’t expect you to have gotten over what that motherfucker did that fast.”
“Shut up, Paris. You know nothing about me.”
He runs past me and blocks my way. “You’re right, I don’t. I’d like to change that though.”
His confession feels like whiplash. I step back. “Why?”
He clenches his jaw, keeping his penetrating gaze locked with mine.
It brings back memories I buried deep in my mind a long time ago.
He looked like this when I finally saw him again a few months after Cory’s death.
We bumped into each other at the country club.
His cold demeanor that day broke my heart, and that wasn’t the only time he hurt me since then.
“You know what? Never mind.” I whirl around and stride away, but I move too fast and don’t watch my step. My right foot sinks into a hole, and I lose my balance and fall at an odd angle, getting red wine all over the front of my dress. Pain flares around my ankle, making me see stars. “Fuck!”
“Are you okay?” Paris crouches next to me, looking all worried and shit. Meanwhile, I’m trying not to cry.
“No,” I whimper.
“Let me see your foot.” He wraps his strong hands around my calf and lifts my leg from the hole. I’d take pleasure in his touch if I wasn’t in so much agony.
“How bad does it hurt?”
“Pretty fucking bad. God, I don’t need this.”
“It might not be as serious as you think. It’s probably only a sprained ankle.”
“A sprained ankle will keep me on the bench for too long.”
He hooks his arm with mine and helps me up. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the house. Can you walk?”
I try putting weight on my right foot and let out a pitiful cry. “No.”
Before I can stop him, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms. “Paris, put me down.”
“You can’t walk. It’s better if you don’t put weight on your foot before we know what’s wrong. It could do more damage.”
That thought alone stops any further protest I might have. I’m still cradling the wine bottle as we come into full view of anyone standing on the balcony. It’s my luck that my parents are the ones who see me first.
“Vanessa!” Mom yells and then vanishes from my view.
She’s probably running to meet us halfway.
Here we go again.