6. Beatriz #2
“Hey.” Her tone is firm now, no room for argument.
“It doesn’t matter how many times it’s happened, Bee.
You don’t deserve to be treated that way.
And you don’t have to hide it from me. I’m your sister.
I’m here for you.” She pauses. “But Bee, be honest with me…
is Alejandro back in your life? I've been waiting days for you to tell me.
A picture of him in a cafe with you was circulating around Instagram, but I wasn't sure. You never said anything.”
I close my eyes, biting my lip, feeling guilty for not telling her now. There’s no point in pretending. “He’s… he’s back, yeah.”
There’s a long pause. I can almost hear her processing everything, trying to make sense of the mess I’ve made. “Bee, I get that you miss him. But you know how it went last time. I had to be the one to pick up the pieces. Just don’t let this turn into another heartbreak, okay?”
“I know, Drea,” I murmur, the words more a reassurance to myself than anything. “I’m not… I’m not jumping into a relationship with him. I just want my friend back.”
Another sigh, this one less judgmental, more understanding. “Alright. Just… promise you’ll be careful, Bee. And if Martin tries anything else, you call me. We’ll handle it together, okay?”
Her words settle over me like a comfort I didn’t know I needed. “Thanks, Andrea. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’re stuck with me,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Text me if you need backup.”
She hangs up before I can respond, leaving me in the sudden quiet.
I exhale slowly, rubbing at my forehead as the jumble of thoughts churns in my mind.
It's hard to tell where my own feelings end and where the echo of what others have said begins. Martin’s words, Andrea's concern—they all twist together, making it harder to think clearly.
Papi is probably thinking the worst after Martin’s call, and I know nothing I can say will fix it. So for now, I leave it. If he wants to call me and talk about it, he will. I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with Papi’s lectures and machismo.
A headache is building at the base of my skull, a dull throb that’s only getting worse. I grab a couple of painkillers from the bedside table and swallow them dry, then collapse back onto the bed, hoping for a moment of peace as I fall asleep.
I swear I set an alarm, or maybe a timer, but the absence of its chime says otherwise. I snap awake, the panic setting in as I glance at the clock. 7:20. My heart jumps into my throat. The time. Alejandro’s supposed to be here soon—I haven’t even showered yet.
I shoot out of bed, my legs tangling in the sheets, almost tripping me as I rush toward the bathroom, already mentally scrambling. A quick shower. Get dressed. Mascara, lip gloss. I can do this.
I manage to quickly shower, braid my hair, and get dressed, working on my mascara when the bell rings. I'm running to the door, plastering a smile on my face, but when I open it, it's not him.
I blink rapidly, too stunned to think clearly. My voice falters as I lock eyes with the stranger before me—tall, dark, and impeccably dressed in a suit. He grins, bowing with exaggerated flair and tilting his hat toward me.
“Bonsoir, madame,” he greets, his thick French accent curling around the words. “I’m here to escort you on behalf of Alejandro Soto.”
My mind spins. This better be the surprise.
“Uh, just a second, let me grab my purse,” I mutter, awkwardness settling in.
Five minutes later, I’m in the back of a limo, the hum of tires on pavement my only company. Three blocks from my apartment, I’m already regretting this. A stranger, a limo, a thick French accent, and I’m headed God knows where.
Beatriz
This better be the surprise, or I swear, I’m going to lose it.
Alejandro
Isn’t Hughie adorable?
I roll my eyes at his evasiveness. So clearly, this isn’t the only surprise. I shift in my seat, watching the city blur past. Each turn is unfamiliar, leading me to parts unknown.
Fifteen minutes pass before the limo slows. I glance out the window, breath catching as headlights sweep over a sprawling mansion—elegant and imposing, like something out of a dream.
A mansion. Definitely not what I was expecting.
The limo comes to a halt, my heart jolting with it.
My hands tremble, though I can’t tell if it’s from nerves or excitement.
The mansion stands like a fortress against the night sky, massive stone columns draped in ivy, windows gleaming softly.
It’s classic, opulent, but oddly empty—like it belongs in another time.
The driver smiles through the window. “Miss Beatriz, right this way.” He opens the door, and after a brief hesitation, I step out into the cool night. The breeze ruffles my dress, making me feel more exposed than I’d like.
He guides me to the front door, where a butler waits. “Miss Ayala, we’ve been expecting you,” he says, his voice polite but distant. He leads me through a grand foyer with high ceilings and a spiral staircase that disappears out of sight.
Everything’s pristine and polished, but it lacks warmth. The silence weighs on me as I follow the butler to a small changing room.
“Make yourself comfortable. Your dress is laid out for you.” He gestures to a garment bag resting on a chair.
I step inside, and he closes the door behind me. My reflection in the mirror catches me off guard—eyes wide, cheeks flushed. I approach the garment bag, curiosity gnawing at me. I unzip it slowly, and my breath hitches.
The dress is everything I didn’t know I needed. Midnight black, a mix of satin and lace. The neckline plunges just enough to show the curve of my collarbone, the lace hugging my waist before the skirt billows out, revealing my heels. It’s sleek, sexy, but soft too—something that tugs at my heart.
A note pinned inside the dress reads, “ Wear this and meet me out back. Surprise! It's prom night.”
I trace the words like they're made of gold. Even now, after all this time, he still knows how to make my heart flutter.
I change quickly, feeling the fabric slide over me like it was made just for me. The dress fits perfectly, hugging my curves and skimming my hips. When I glance in the mirror, I almost feel like myself again—the me who never had to deal with all the heartbreak.
Stepping back into the hall, the butler silently guides me toward the back door.
My pulse races as excitement mixes with bitterness.
This elaborate surprise feels too perfect.
The last time I felt like this, Alejandro made me believe we could have something permanent, then disappeared without a word.
I step outside, the warmth of the house left behind.
The backyard is something out of a fairytale—lush, impossibly green.
Roses, jasmine, and lavender fill the air.
A wooden dance floor stretches ahead, lined with candles in tall glass holders.
String lights crisscross the trees, their soft glow wrapping the night in warmth.
But the most captivating sight is Alejandro. He stands at the edge of the dance floor, his profile sharp against the moonlight. I watch him for a long moment before my heels click on the stone path.
At the sound, Alejandro turns. His gaze sweeps over me, slow and admiring. My heart races. Emotions swirl—love, anger, regret, longing. He waits, as if this moment is just for us, but it feels so much more complicated.
I want to step forward, let him take me in his arms like he used to, but part of me is still angry. How could he leave? How could he abandon me? All of this—it’s a reminder of everything I lost.
I swallow, forcing myself to keep moving. But when his eyes soften and his smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, the bitterness fades a little. Despite everything, there’s something magnetic about him, something that still calls to me.
“Beatriz,” he says, his voice deep and filled with affection, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a simple word, just my name, but it holds so much meaning when he says it. I don’t know whether to throw myself into his arms or slap him for making me feel this way again.
He steps closer, offering his hand. For a moment, I hesitate. I swallow hard, my fingers trembling as I reach for him. The second we touch, warmth floods through me, igniting a spark I thought had long been extinguished. The anger, the betrayal—all of it melts away with that single touch.
"You always know how to sweep me off my feet, don’t you?" I murmur, the words playful but carrying a tremor of something deeper.
His smile is slow, reaching his eyes—blue eyes that hold too much. "I’m just getting started.”
He pulls me closer and there's so much that should be said, but as I look at his face, something softens. There’s vulnerability there—he’s not just trying to win me back. He’s trying to make amends.
He leads me to the dance floor as music swells, sweet and familiar, filling the space between us. I know this song. Corazon Sin Cara by Prince Royce plays, and I can’t help but be drawn into the moment. Alejandro pulls me closer, his hand settling on my waist, his breath warm against my ear.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words rough, like he’s been holding them for far too long.
He’s said it several times recently, but it hits harder than I expected. It feels like everything we lost, all at once. My throat tightens, and tears sting my eyes. I blink them away, forcing control.
He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, searching for answers in my eyes. “I should never have left you, Beatriz.”
I swallow, steadying my voice. “You were the first boy I ever loved, Alejandro. You were my world, and when you left, it shattered me. It’s been years without you…” My voice cracks, but I push through. “I don’t know what to feel anymore. I can’t just erase that time.”
He nods, brushing his thumb over my hand where it rests against his chest. “I know. And I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking for another chance to make it right.”
My heart flutters, torn between anger and the affection I can’t suppress.
Alejandro pulls me closer, hands resting lightly on my waist. For a moment, we stand there, inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, his voice rough but sincere. “I’ve missed you .”
His words hit me like a jolt. I almost want to pull away, but something keeps me there.
“You left me,” I say, bitterness creeping in. “No explanation, no goodbye.”
He winces, regret tightening his expression. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
I bite my lip. “But you did.” The words linger between us like a sharp blade. But as I look at him, I see it—the genuine remorse in his eyes, the deep regret.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his hand lingering on my cheek for a moment, as if needing to confirm that I’m real. "Can we just... forget about all that for tonight?" His voice is soft, almost pleading.
I nod, despite the swirl of emotions churning inside me, despite my want—no, my need—for answers. “Yeah, for tonight.”
The silence lingers, but then he pulls back slightly, grinning. "You know, I do have a key to a hotel room for after prom." His tone is teasing, but there's an edge of mischief in his eyes.
I narrow my gaze, fighting the urge to laugh. “Is that your idea of a prom night memento?” I raise an eyebrow.
His grin widens. “Not exactly. But you do look stunning tonight...”
I can’t help but roll my eyes, my lips curling up into a reluctant smile. "You’ve got a lot of nerve," I tease, feeling the tension finally crack. "But I guess I’m just supposed to say ‘thank you’ and go along with it?”
“Exactly,” he says, laughing as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You can thank me later.”
“Uh-huh,” I smirk, “in the hotel room, right?”
Alejandro laughs softly, pulling me close again as he presses his forehead to mine. “That's exactly right. But for now, let’s just pretend we’ve got a chance to rewrite this night the way it should’ve been. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for it.”
I close my eyes, feeling the warmth of his arms around me, the familiar sense of comfort and chaos all tangled up in one.
Fucker was right.
This surprise was good.