Chapter 37
SARINA
Your brother is weird
Lorena
Tell me something I don’t know
What’s he doing?
Unless it’s the kind of weird shit I’d be better off not knowing, then tell Gabriella
Sorry, that meant to say … your brother is acting weird
These stupid fucking nails, I’m always missing a word
We’re out at The Wilted Flower, and he’s gone to the bathroom multiple times and I’ve barely finished my espresso martini
Also… there’s no one here. We have the place to ourselves
Lorena
Maybe his stomach hurts? Also, a bar all to yourself? That sounds like heaven. Who likes crowds?
True. And I mean yeah, that’d probably be the logical answer, but he keeps mumbling to himself
Lorena
Why don’t you go check on him?
Ew, in the bathroom?
Lorena
You’re married now remember, bathroom privacy is no longer a thing
Speak for yourself. I’m an open book but somethings I don’t need to see
Or smell
Lorena
Valid
Keep me updated… if he’s okay that is, spare me the gory details
Also valid
I leave my drink on the bar and walk through the unusually quiet, empty bar and down to the hallway with the bathrooms to see if he’s okay.
“Tomás?” I call out his name just as my attention is pulled to the half-opened door down the hall leading to the mirrored room.
He clears his throat. “I’m in here.”
My heels click their way down the hall, staring at the flickering lights casting a shadow in the dimly light hall.
As soon as I push the door fully open, my jaw drops seeing the mirrored art installation like I’ve never seen it before.
Candles of varying sizes illuminate the room, offering a glow that feels ethereal, and unbelievably romantic. Especially with Tomás standing across the room, with a hand outstretched waiting for me to join him.
“What is this?” I ask, not sure where my gaze should land first. Mixed in amongst the mirrors are canvas displayed over top each.
“Is that what I think it is?” I point to the canvas in front of me. A blue ocean with an anatomical heart hovering over it, comprised of various scrapbook cut outs. “A Rosa piece?!”
He bows his head, unexpectedly bashful. “It is. She and I used to…”
“Fuck?” I finish his sentence, rather bluntly at that. His silence is all the confirmation I need. “Oh my god, you used to fuck one of my favorite artists?”
“We had a fling years ago.”
“Jesus Christ, I’m low-key jealous,” I joke.
“You have nothing to be jealous of.”
“Says the guy who used to fuck one of the hottest modern artists Don’t worry, I’m impressed.
He offers me a nervous smile. “Why don’t you look around for a second, I have to respond to this.”
Assuming it’s a work email, I do as he says, while he taps away at his phone. Even though that dick Ralph had Tomás take some time off, it hasn’t prevented his phone from going off with emails, each one more allegedly urgent than the last.
A few moments later, Tomás pockets his phone and joins me.
“These are incredible.” And that’s an understatement. Rosa is known for her use of mixed media. Though the more I take in each piece, the more I realize how each one is unique in that it tells a very familiar story.
Ours.
All done in varying shades of blue with different pieces to complete them made from scrap book pieces, I recognize moments, big and small, conversations and even texts we’ve had.
Everything memorialized in a way that is not only aesthetically pleasing but incredibly sentimental.
Even the one piece with my signature three drinks.
“You like?” he asks, standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me.
“I love. How did you know she was one of my favorite artists?”
“Lucky guess?”
“Bullshit.” I cross my arms.
“I may or may not have snooped through your socials once you were hired at Turner mirrors are viewed as portals to other worlds or tied to the supernatural. But I wanted this to be a more self-reflective piece. My intention was to have one person in the room at a time, ironically in dim candlelight like you have it now, and stare long enough, from varying angles that you see beyond the physical, and become connected with the self we don’t always show the world. ”
“Looks like I will be learning something new about you every day, huh?”
“Maybe.”
We both smile as I correct myself. “Definitely.”
“That’s okay, I’m up for the challenge.”
Just as I’m about to thank him for this amazing gift, my phone vibrates.
Noah
Almost there
My brows furrow reading the message.
“What’s wrong?” Tomás asks.
“Nothing. Noah texted me but I think he meant to send it to someone else.”
Tomás’ mutters to himself. “I should’ve known. Stoners.” He shakes his head.
“I’m lost.”
He places my phone in his pocket, exchanging it for his. “No, you’re not,” he says, pressing a button on his phone.
Too Sweet, an EDM remix of the Hozier track fills the small space. A perfect blend of his music taste and mine.
“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. With me, gifting me with our first official dance as husband and wife.”
We dance slow. No spins. No fancy movements. Just swaying softly, wrapped up in one another, as if we are the only people in the world. And for the time being we are. That is until the song ends, and the silence is quickly replaced by a knock at the door.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“Multiple someone’s,” he jokes as the knocking progresses.
Gabriella’s voice emerges unexpectedly. “I’ve been trying to eavesdrop, but the music was too loud. Are you two done? We want to come in.”
“We?” I look to Tomás.
“I know I said we were due for a proper first date, but since we have made it tradition to do everything ass backwards, as you like to say, I thought it’d be nice to not only show off my beautiful wife, but to celebrate with our friends and family. That is, if it’s okay with you.”
Gabriella scoffs, letting herself in. “Well, it’s too late for that, we’re all here and we hustled to sneak the food Tino cooked quietly in while you two were in here.”
Now the text from my brother makes sense.
I can’t believe he went through all this trouble for me, to make everything so special.
“So can everyone come in?” Gabriella asks Tomás, but I intervene.
“Yes, but in one minute. I need to tell my husband something.”
Gabriella leaves us and concern contorts Tomás’ face. “Don’t worry it’s not bad.”
My words seem to go in and out of his ears as he started grumbling to himself, almost scoldingly, saying how he should have asked if I wanted everyone here.
I grab his hands, squeezing them to get him to snap to. “I’m not mad.” My thumb glides over his barren ring finger, where a wedding band, should be. “You know, I never wanted this.” My bluntness causes him to stand upright. His mouth moves but all that comes out is air, afraid to speak.
I shift to my tiptoes, taking a hand to his scruffy cheek.
“That is until I met you.” I can’t help but laugh, it sounds so corny and like everything I swore I’d never say.
Not because I didn’t want it, because I never thought I deserved it.
It’s easier to protect your heart when you convince yourself it doesn’t want to be loved.
That way, when it breaks, it’s a superficial tear, not a catastrophic one.
Tomás clears his throat. As apprehensive as he sounds, he encourages me to go on, needing to hear everything I have to say.
“Other than my grandparents’ marriage, I never saw a healthy one.
And the one healthy marriage I did see was marred by grief.
Either way I looked at it, it seemed like a hell I wanted no part of.
But to be honest, life is hell. Seriously, every damn day it’s always something, and the fact that I can experience hell with you, someone who I not only like but love?
That’s more than I could have ever dreamed of.
Plus, you are adorable and fine as fuck, so bonus points. ”
He lowers his lips to mine. “That’s your first love confession, isn’t it?”
“What gave it away?”
He kisses me, and our foreheads press together staying put afterward.
“Just a hunch.”
“It was the hell part, wasn’t it?”
“I mean, yeah. But I don’t want cliché love, I want yours, in all its sarcasm. I want what you weren’t able to give before, because that means I get you all to myself.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Why are you always one upping me? It’s like you were made to be all smooth and in love.”
“I was made for you. Enjoy me and all my smooth-talking ways.” He shoots me a Cheshire grin to which I playful pretend to gag. I may be in love with this man, but I’m not going to abandon my signature sense of humor.
“See, that right there!”
“Sorry, you make it easy to be this way.”
My brows lift, urging him to continue.
“Happy,” he adds. “Ready, Mrs. Ramos?” He takes my hand, leading us to the now crowded doorway.
If I thought my heart was on the verge of exploding before, it definitely is now as a sea of familiar faces enters the room including my all my siblings.
All so excited to officially wish us congratulations.
Everyone I care about is here except for my parents.
I haven’t spoken to either of them since we left Colorado.
And to be honest, I’m not as sad as I should —or was expecting— to be.
It took a long time to accept, but I’ve realized, with the help of my husband, that family is what you make of it.
It’s who comes into your life and is willing to stay in it, good, bad and all the moments in between.
It’s friends who show up. It’s people who have impacted your life in ways you could have never imagined. Blood, sadly, doesn’t always factor in.
“Bendito!” Tomás’ mom exclaims, making her way first through the crowd to hug us both. Lorena following right after her.
“I’m so happy for you two.”
“Thank you, Lo, that means a lot.” I give her a big hug.
“Ah I guess now slutty Saturdays are really cancelled,” Lorena sighs.
“Slutty what now?” Tomás cuts in, interest piqued.
Lo and I exchange a look, as a grin expands my lips. “First of all, they weren’t exclusively on Saturday’s and in all fairness, they were cancelled on my part for a while. Due to a long dry spell that you cured.” I poke at Tomás’ arm.
Lo gags. “Ew, gross.”
“What? It’s true. But anyway, we used to have girl’s night and recall details of our endeavors if you will.”
Tomás’ face suddenly turns a shade of red.
Lorena shudders. “Oh god, please, the trauma.”
“Now you know how I felt,” Tomás says jokingly.
“Whatever, we’re even. And everyone is happy, and everyone can keep their slutty details to themselves.”
“Agreed,” we say in unison, making our way out to the main bar.
Still in awe of what Tomás’ has done for me –and us– I can’t help but feel that there’s something missing.
He’s done so much for me. I know it’s from the kindness of his heart but I want to do something for him in return.
Something that his pride I know won’t allow him to do.
And as I greet my stoner brothers as Tomás’ so accurately put it, an idea sparks on how I’m going to repay him for all he’s done for me.