Four
FOUR
M aking her great escape to the ballroom felt like a gasp of air after breaking the surface of water. There really wasn’t any need to check on the flowers—she trusted her team and received updates on their work chat throughout the day. But it was an excuse to escape, and Mara was going to grab that excuse by the horns and wrestle with it if she had to. Besides, updates were one thing. Actually walking into a completed setup for the first time was another. It always took her breath away, seeing a vision come to life and the comfort it provided to a room.
And not to brag, but Mara had really outdone herself with this one.
Marina had requested red for her intimate Tagaytay wedding. Just one hundred guests, on a weekday. She wanted a red that invoked love and romance, the kind that they saw in movies with ending scenes in rooms like this. And because Game of Thrones had ruined red for weddings (among other things) forever, Mara and Marina compromised and fully leaned into Fall vibes. Nothing that would clash with the main ballroom’s elegant decor.
On days where the ballroom wasn’t filled with wedding guests, it was a restaurant. It didn’t need much in terms of adornment, honestly. There were chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, white beams adorned with crown molding, black-and-white patterned floors. The couple’s table was set against a wall of mercury glass mirrors, the tables for the parents, ninongs and ninangs across, guests surrounding them. With details like this, one had to be subtle or go balls to the walls with their concept, and Wildflower was all about the balls to the walls. Just like that one time, when the PBA hosted a reception, and Mara used old basketballs to put flowers up on the walls.
Anyway. The Marina-David nuptials had dozens of burgundy red roses on the tables, matched with birds of paradise, peonies and dahlias of varying shades of red, orange and pale peach. The place screamed autumn romance, with the dried, dyed flowers filling the emptier spaces. Mara approached the arrangement at the couple’s table, rearranging some of the blooms. Even as she straightened up some of the flowers, she couldn’t help but think about the money burning a hole in her pocket. She’d peeked at the envelope earlier. There was enough for a plane ticket abroad, a trip to Boracay, a night at a swanky hotel.
It’s Marina giving you luck , she remembered Tita Claudine said. What was Mara supposed to do with that luck?
Go away. The idea was tempting. Too tempting, really.
“Mmm.”
Uh, that wasn’t her. She wrinkled her nose at the sound. It was a little…um, enthusiastic.
“Oooh!”
Maybe a wedding guest.
“Mmmmmmmm.”
Mara pretended she hadn’t heard that and decided now was the perfect opportunity to post some stories of the event. Wildflower’s social media was a beast that needed to be constantly fed with content. She took a few photos before choosing a sweeping shot of the venue, carefully crafting a caption that was sentimental but not overly so— Flowers for a family affair. Our favorite kind of special event —and hit Post.
“Oh, shit that’s… Mmm.”
It had not been hard for Mara to fall in love with flowers. Her grandmother had a garden in what was now the Barretto family home, and Mara grew up around a small grove of orchids, rows of buttercups, making chains of santan flowers every afternoon. She made wishes on weeds and played with makahiya plants.
“Mmmm.”
That she rediscovered this love in her thirties, made a living out of it, was a gift, one she was happy to receive. It felt like a full circle moment, being able to use the flowers she first saw in her Lola’s gardens in Marina’s wedding arrangements.
“Mmmmmmmm.”
What was that? Mara’s phone almost immediately buzzed as likes came in, more so when she reposted it on her stories. She must have posted at an optimal time, although who even knew when that was anymore, right?
“Shit. Oh shit.”
Still ignoring whatever that was, she started tapping replies to some of the messages, sending hearts and likes, trying her hardest to ignore the sound. She made sure her phone was on max volume, so whoever it was wouldn’t miss that there was someone else in the room, who could hear…whatever it was they were doing.
“Ah, fuck, that’s good.”
“Hoy naman! Can you take that somewhere else?” she snapped, whirling around, ready to admonish whoever decided that hooking up in a seemingly unused ballroom was a good idea. Please don’t let it be Tita Claudine…
What she saw, instead, was a single person. The one guy wearing a tux to a barong wedding, holding a platito of illicit soft tacos, with one halfway to his mouth. Mara felt a jolt of surprise shoot through her body even as Jay Montinola stared at her with his own shocked, wide-eyed surprise.
The annoying thing about Jay was that it was almost impossible to hate him because he was just so goddamn nice . He smiled at everyone, knew how to be meek and sheepish. He personified every expression he made. Laughed at jokes so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled. Filled quiet moments with little sound effects (Mara was pretty sure she heard him make “beep-boop” noises when Marina and David kissed in front of the church). And he did this thing where he leaned in close while actively listening to you speak.
At the time she met him, it made her think he would be good for Marina, because he seemed like a guy who found life interesting and fun. He brought up memories and stories at that one dinner that his friend David had long forgotten, ones that made him laugh and call Jay, “The best.”
But the operative word here was almost , because Mara had every reason to glare at him now. He’d been thoughtless and posted her unflattering photo for the public to see, without even having the decency of tagging her. And even worse, he never tried to find her, to explain himself, to tell her what happened. Now his cartoon-like freeze was just annoying, and she felt a very urgent need to snap at him even more. Snatch the tacos right out of his hands.
While he couldn’t take back what the internet had claimed, she could make him squirm. And that would be enough, because while Mara was a reasonable woman, she was also a petty bitch.
“You,” she said, her voice cool as ice as she straightened her back and stared down at him like a piece of gum under her sandal.
“Me?” he asked, sounding confused and innocent with the taco still halfway to his mouth.
“Yes! You!” she exclaimed, and she was aware she was screeching, just a little, but all she could see was red. “Go away!”
“I’m still eating!” he said back, and lo and behold, he still had a taco on his plate, and he swallowed the bite. The silence was awkward and weird. “Um…taco?”
“It’s Mara, actually.” She realized her mistake quickly, and she flinched when he opened his mouth to correct her, then immediately took it back when she glared again. Damn it! “Arrgh! Where did you get tacos? I know for a fact they’re not serving those until after the reception. Also, you’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Well, I was on my way out of the other ballroom when I got lost and ended up in the kitchen. The staff took pity on me and gave me a test batch.” It sounded so plausible, but Mara wasn’t inclined to feel generous at the moment. “Okay fine, maybe I asked. Begged. Cried.”
“Bribed?”
“Oh, not bribed. I’ll leave that to the politicians,” he said, nodding. Then he adopted a Kris Aquino game show host voice and said, “Pilipinas, tang ina talaga!”
“Thanks, BBM.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, because what had that man ever done for the country? Nothing. At least on that, they could agree.
“Amen,” he said, raising the taco to the empty air before he took a bite. Mara watched him, and he looked like he was in the absolute throes of ecstasy. Damn, it looked really good, and ice cream was yummy, but it wasn’t any kind of decent merienda. Jay noticed her watching and stopped mid-chew. “Are you sure you don’t want any? You seem fixated on—”
“I’m not fixated on the tacos. I’m trying to intimidate you.” Mara stepped closer to Jay, which was unfair because he was taller than her. Most people were, but she never let that stop her before. “You’re the worst, Jay Montinola.”
It did give her some satisfaction, however, to see him swallow his food like he hadn’t savored it at all. That his shoulders were practically up to his ears. That his eyes were fixed on her, and she was close enough to catch that he was wearing cologne. He smelled nice. Damn it!
“You remember my name,” he noted, and the fucker had the audacity to laugh! Like he couldn’t believe this was their life. Well, strap in, buddy. Mara had no plans of letting him slide. “That does not bode well for me.”
“Why were you trying to leave the other ballroom?” she asked. And if she was frustrated, she was very determined not to show him. “The other ballroom has everything you could need while waiting for the reception. Seating. Food. Beer.”
“Not tacos.” He snorted. Mara glared at him again, and all he could add to that statement was, “I left, because…”
“Because?” she prompted, tilting her head so he knew that whatever answer he was going to give her was not going to be satisfactory.
“Because, Mara. I was looking for you,” he said. Which, god damn it, was a good answer. “I was looking for you, because I am the worst.”
“I already said that.”
“And I’m agreeing with you.” He lowered the now empty plate of tacos, wiping his mouth with a napkin he’d tucked underneath, then putting the soiled napkin in his pocket. “I wanted to find you and apologize. For the photo and for what I said. It was shitty of me.”
Mara took a step back, because suddenly she was too close, and it was hard to breathe when he was looking at her with such earnest contrition. She swallowed a lump in her throat, felt her hands fall from her sides. Of all the things she expected Jay Montinola to be—jerky, unapologetic, smug—she hadn’t expected contrite.
Why would she expect any of those things about a guy she met one night a year ago?
“I see,” was all she managed to say to that. “You’re…apologizing. And sweating.”
“You make me nervous.”
“Oh.” Never let it be said that Mara Jane Barretto was ever caught off guard without something to say. She had words. Not a lot of words sometimes, but words. Oh was a word, right?
“Also I want to apologize that it took me this long to talk to you about it. I didn’t know if you want to unearth all of this, but honestly, I just didn’t want to deal with it. I was ready to accept that you just hated me. But that’s ridiculous, and such a waste of energy on both our parts.”
Jay scratched the back of his head, and god, even that looked apologetic. Like a menswear magazine cover pose, as if to say to the viewer, “Oh my god, I’m sorry, are you affected by my face?” To which the answer was always, yes . Mara in particular was caught off guard by the action, and yes, that was the sound of her brain short-circuiting.
“I would like to be the kind of person that tries to do better. So I went looking for you. And I found—”
“Tacos.”
“You, Mara. I found you. And now, you can do whatever you want with me.” He held his arms out to her in helpless surrender. “I deserve the worst.”
And she was not sure what it was. Maybe it was the faint scent of flowers in the room, the cool Tagaytay air making her feel out of her own body. Maybe it was Jay’s earnest words, and the chilling of her own anger. But when he looked at her and willed her to do her worst, she could…picture things. Things that came in flashes, that made her cheeks heat and her heart skip a beat. She could picture him underneath her, him smiling as she gasped, exchanging rough kisses, heartily consented touches in places only Mara herself had touched.
Tang ina? Mara had to physically shake her head to shake the images away, flouncing off and walking to the presidential table, which suddenly needed some rearrangement. What the fuck?
What she hadn’t counted on—and had forgotten to notice—was that Jay Montinola was fucking handsome. As if his mother had taken his baby self by the ankle and dipped him into a magical pool of gwapo. He had a sharp jawline and a fine nose under his longish hair. His crinkle-eyed smile was sweet, and it was the kind that made you want to smile back (she didn’t, because she had willpower ). And she hadn’t really looked at him before, because she simply knew him as Marina’s date. But he wasn’t Marina’s date anymore, was he?
“You okay, Mara?”
Stop , she told herself, shaking her head to rid herself of those thoughts. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself. Do not focus on Jay Montinola.
“I’m fine, just—” Flustered as fuck. “I need to finish this.”
She whirled around and walked to the presidential table. It was set for twelve—for their parents, David’s parents and the rest for the principal sponsors and their plus-ones. Theirs had to be the grandest setup, and Mara thought the current arrangements were a little too clustered at the center. No problem.
“Can I take photos?” Jay asked, holding up a little camera in his hand. Mara narrowed her eyes at him, as if she could suss out his true intentions. “For Marina and David. Too soon? Fine, too soon—”
“It’s fine. Not too soon.” Mara shrugged, because she was cool. She was totally cool. She had been attracted to people before, of course. It happened to her a lot through screens, through words. But this close it was always harder, because she wasn’t used to it. Was already thinking of all the reasons why she had to tamp it down, put it away.
Why, again?
“Can I ask why the purple?” Jay asked suddenly. He was as focused on his camera as she was on her flowers.
“Hmm?” Mara asked, and it was her turn to be surprised and innocent.
“The purple flowers,” Jay repeated, pouting his lips to point in the direction of the purple statice flowers. “In a sea of red and orange, there was purple. I was just wondering if it was her favorite color, or…?”
Mara shifted uncomfortably where she stood, and it wasn’t because of her flatter shoes. She was trying to decide how much she was going to say, how much of herself she would reveal to Jay. She already felt like he knew too much about her, and this was the longest conversation they’d ever had.
“You dated her for three months, and she didn’t tell you her favorite color was autumn?” Mara teased instead, and Jay laughed. There went the eye crinkles. And also, as proof of his sweet-boy vibes, his mouth actually formed a heart when he laughed. How adorable was that? Mara had only seen it in anime. But there he was, a man in real life giving her a heart-shaped smile.
“We really weren’t meant to be, I guess.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. Good for him. Because Marina probably ended things with him properly. There had actually been something mutual, consensual and out on the table for them both. “Ok lang. I’m not really a relationship kind of guy. Feelings are not my thing.”
“Ha? If I recall correctly, David called you a serial monogamist. It was your selling point.”
“David’s in marketing. He will say a lot of things to get the deal.” Jay snorted. “Also serial monogamist means I date a lot. And I do. I like dating, and I date one person at a time. But let’s just say, I’m not the kind of guy people fall in love with.”
Mara highly doubted that, but she said nothing. It reminded her of all the times a thinner friend would complain to her—a US size 22 who can’t even buy underwear in this country—that they were getting fat now. That their clothes didn’t fit. And she would hum and say something vaguely like, “There, there, poor thing.”
“Isn’t it funny how much meaning we attach to flowers?” he asked her suddenly, his gaze focused on the blooms that she was rearranging. “It’s a plant. It’s a dead plant, essentially. Meant to wither and fade away. They don’t last very long, and they aren’t meant to.”
“Sometimes they do. This one dries out really nicely,” Mara said. She’d made these arguments before to various customers. Why this flower? Why spend money on something this cheap? And out of theme! “And a specific, single bloom may not last forever, but you always find the statice in the grocery, in an everyday arrangement. I wanted Marina to know that it’s not so stately and serious, marrying someone you love.”
Ha. He had nothing to say to that.
“I added the purple,” Mara announced. And she suddenly felt defensive of her admittedly sentimental choices. “For very selfish reasons.”
Their eyes met across the presidential table. He had nice eyes, shaped into points on the sides. Serious but so expressive. His eyes were looking at her face now, moving, trailing down to her lips. Mara pressed her lips together, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “They hid their feelings for each other for a long time, as you and I well know.”
A bitter pill to swallow, but she was used to that now. She and Jay exchanged wan smiles. The smiles of two people who had been completely fooled.
“I thought it would remain unseen and unnoticed.” She shrugged like she hadn’t kept that little secret to herself. She hadn’t told anyone about it, mostly because nobody asked. It was freeing, to be able to say it out loud. “They felt that way about each other for so long that they just let it grow and turn into…this. A color that doesn’t quite stand out, that doesn’t quite fit in, but has been there all along. In a selfish way I wanted to commemorate the way they hid their feelings.”
There was now silence between them, and Mara’s stomach twisted. She’d said too much. Jay wouldn’t understand. She felt a little raw and exposed, even with the little she’d said.
“They’re just flowers, and like you said, they don’t last,” she said quickly, because she’d gone back and forth about this silly, insignificant, even petty little thing. “But they have meaning to the ones who chose them.”
“Hay. I keep making you upset.” He sighed, shaking his head. Mara couldn’t tell if it was genuine disappointment. “My mouth goes places my brain can’t control.”
He held up the camera again and caught her blink at him in confusion, her heart flipping around in her chest as butterflies swirled a storm inside her. “But this is sweet, Mara. Doing this for them.”
“I just told you I called them selfish in flowers.” She laughed bitterly.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t love them. You were hurt, and you wanted it to be acknowledged in a way that mattered to you,” Jay pointed out. “The way I see it, there are worse things to do than to say you were hurt in flowers. Now smile, beautiful.”
“Flatterer.” She raised a brow at him and let him take another photo.
“Hey, I mean it!” Jay said, frowning as he lowered the camera. “You are beautiful. Today you look like a princess. I said that out loud, when I saw you at the church this morning. Which was how I remembered that you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you.” She dismissed the thought with a snort. “I hate what you did. And that you didn’t apologize.”
“Well, I did na.”
“You didn’t, actually,” Mara clarified while resuming her tasks. Spreading the flowers out to the farther edges of the tables, accepting the shears one of the staff offered her. In her peripheral vision, Jay sauntered (sauntered!) over to the presidential table, a hand on the back of the chair across where she was quickly pulling deep red anthuriums and carnations from the center arrangement, evening out the whole display.
“I didn’t what?” he asked as Mara gave the shears back and told the staff what a good job they did.
“Apologize to me,” she said, looking up from her work. “You said you wanted to apologize. But I didn’t hear a single ‘sorry’ from you.”
“I groveled!”
“Did you, though?” Mara asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “An apology must be sincere, and from the bottom of your heart, if you have one. All I got was a half-hearted offer for tacos, and an acknowledgment of you being a jerk. You said you wanted to apologize, but I don’t think you actually said it. And I think I deserve a little more than a few words and zero sorrys from the guy who made me feel small. When I’m the least small person in the room.”
They stared at each other across a chasm of flowers. Mara held on to her pride and dignity as Jay seemed to be trying to read her. He did not look like he was successful. “Has anyone told you that you’re—”
“A bitch?”
“I was going to say scary,” he said, slipping his camera into his jacket pocket. “But let’s drop it. You want an apology. Something big, and sincere. From my heart. My heart?”
“Yes, your heart.” Mara chuckled. He was cute. She appreciated cute. “You have one of those, Mr. Feelings-Are-Not-My-Thing?”
“Hey! I have a heart.” His voice was sharp, a little scary. He held up a finger in warning, and Mara jumped in surprise. Oh, Jay could get intense, really quick. “Maybe. No. I can do this. I’m good at this.”
“I’m sure.” She resumed her work. Made it sound like she didn’t think he was good at this at all. “I’m sure all the girls love it when you make an apology.”
“They do, actually!” His voice went slightly high-pitched as he came on the defensive. No so intense anymore, silly? He was squirming, and, ha-ha, mission accomplished. He was pacing in front of her, back and forth across the presidential table, and she could practically hear the gears in his head whirring. “But it usually ends, well, not at a wedding reception, that’s for sure.”
Mara laughed. “Has anyone told you that you’re a—”
“Ladies’ man?”
“I was going to say chick boy, but I guess that means the same thing.” She pulled a lone crimson anthurium from the arrangement in front of her. She waved it at Jay, who stopped pacing. “Well?”
He grinned. It was the grin of someone who knew he was about to make Mara eat out of the palm of his hand. That one grin was enough to make her stomach flip, her hands hold tighter to the flower in her hand. With a grin like that, it was no wonder David suddenly had to tell Marina he loved her. A rival like Jay was hard to beat.
“Mara Janine—”
“Mara Jane. ”
“Mara Jane Barretto,” he said, walking around the table so he could stand in front of her. And a fine man in a fine tux—even a man that annoyed her to her core ten minutes ago—was always going to take her breath away, especially when all that dramatic energy was directed her way. He paused, like he was considering something. “Can I hold your hand?”
“Do you think I can be swayed by a little romancing?” What could she say? As someone who had never experienced being romanced, this was overwhelming, but also (to her) very, very funny.
“Is it working?” He took her hand, still grinning. His fingers were longer than hers, his fingertips cool against hers. Mara pressed the flower over her mouth to contain her giggles, because he would be able to tell that she was feeling all the kilig. And it was not supposed to be this easy.
“I’m listening,” she said instead.
He squeezed her hand. A storm of butterflies rushed through her entire body, but she ignored them. Jay used his free hand to unbutton the front of his tux. Um?
“Mara Jane Barretto,” he repeated as he got down on one knee, in the middle of the wedding reception, with an audience of absolutely no other people, surrounded by flowers and mirrors and music in the background. MUNA’s cover of Britney Spears’s “Sometimes” played, which she had to admit was pretty perfect.
“I am so sorry that I posted that photo without your consent. From now on the only photos I will take are of you and your radiant beauty.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. And to be fair, he picked up on that right away. “Too thick?”
“A little thick.”
“Well, I’m not taking it back. You are very beautiful, Mara. And I really am sorry about what I said, too. Clearly, you’re brilliant at what you do. Everyone can see it. And I was an idiot that I didn’t look hard enough.”
The words were soft, spoken only to her. Mara squeezed his hand back just to make sure she was still upright. This was so silly. And yet it made her laugh, made her feel bubbly and light.
“I’m sorry,” he concluded. “And I mean that more than GMA did.”
Mara rolled her eyes, but she found this amusing enough. Jay hopped up from where he was kneeling. It was so quick, too quick really, that Mara jumped back in surprise. Jay’s quick reflexes remained, though, and he caught her easily, pulling her up by the waist to press against his body. He nearly lost his own balance, so he used his other hand to steady himself against her. Mara gasped, and Jay’s eyes widened in shock.
Too close, too intimate. Too fast. Mara didn’t like it, even if her heart was hammering in her chest. Was she sweating? She didn’t want to be sweating. She needed this to stop, they’d taken it too far, she didn’t—
“Mara?”
“Apology accepted,” she said quickly, looking away. “Let me go.”
“ATE MARA!” That was Mabel standing by the threshold of the ballroom, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. “Ano ‘to? Hath a miracle occurred? Should I call the Vatican?”
“Mabel!” Mara took ten steps away from Jay and toward her youngest sister. She noticed Jay’s hands were suddenly in his pockets and that he was now finding the chandeliers the most interesting thing in the room. So interesting that he had a blush spreading across his cheeks.
Oh god, she was fucked. Mabel was always terrible at keeping secrets, and Mara had about five minutes before Marina found out about this. No amount of threat, bribe or flattery would stop Mabel Barretto when she had a secret.
Mara looped her arm around her sister’s and started to pull her away from the ballroom. “Were you looking for me for the family photos? We should go. Wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“I should head back to the other room,” Jay announced suddenly. “My friends will be waiting. Bye, Mara.”
“Jay.” Mara gave him the most curt of nods before she left the room. A tightness in her chest eased as he left. God. That was…something. She’d never had anyone… And the way he looked at her was…
“Jay? Like Jay the guy you met at that gin bar?” Mabel gasped, craning her neck back at the ballroom, where Jay was probably watching them leave the room and asking himself what the fuck he’d almost done. “Didn’t he date Ate Marina? Don’t you hate him?”
“We…sorted things out.”
“I bet you fuckin’ did.”
“Mabel Janina!” Mara hissed, as the sisters made it to the restaurant’s salon, a gorgeous backdrop of deep green wallpaper for the family photos. Marina was already there, her reception dress being fussed over by the stylists and the assistants. Farther into the room, David was with his family, taking their family portraits. “He apologized to me, that’s all! Do not tell Marina, I swear to god—”
“Ate, I’ve apologized to people I’m actually close with, and we never looked at each other like that .”
“Like what?”
“Like zippers had ceased to exist.”
“Whose zippers ceased to exist?” Marina asked. Her eyes sparkled with curious delight as the crowd of staff dissipated and her sisters joined her. “Ate, you look flushed.”
“Nobody’s zippers ceased to exist!” Mara said. “Oh my go—”
“Ate is flushed because I caught her flirting with Jay!” Mabel said. Secret spilled in less than a minute. Mabel’s record was getting worse. Mara groaned and wondered aloud if anyone remembered the time Mara told not a single soul that Mabel’s underwear was held up by a safety pin at the rehearsal dinner, but her sisters ignored her. Sad! “I saw them making kilig eyes at each other in the ballroom. Also he was on one knee for her.”
“Mabel!”
“Jay Montinola?” Marina shrieked, like it was the best thing she’d heard the entire day, and it was her wedding day. She pounced on Mara, shaking her arm, and she stumbled back in shock. “Oh my god, Ate, yes. This is a great idea! Did you kiss him?”
“No!” That was Mara.
“Yes!” That was Mabel.
“Are we talking about kissing Jay?” David asked, coming up to them as he pressed his cheeks down to relax his muscles. Great. The peanut gallery was complete. Mara was having a fantastic time. “His kiss is foolproof. Ten to zero, I think his stats are, after today.”
“Stats?” Mara asked. “Dude, gross. You keep stats? ”
“They don’t. He’s talking about—” Marina cut herself off and turned to David. “Babe, I wasn’t talking about his curse.”
“Curse, he’s cursed?” Mabel gasped dramatically. A camera flash came off without warning and threw Mara even more off kilter.
“Hi, can you warn us before you do that?” She glared at the photographer, who smiled sheepishly and muttered an apology about how they were just taking test shots. Meanwhile, David, Marina and Mabel were all talking over each other. Which meant that David was clearly bonding with her sisters, but, oh my god, she could not get a straight answer from any of them.
“TIME FIRST!” Mara commanded the entire room with a shout so loud, even the photographers stopped in the middle of their task. She shook her head at them, prompting them to resume their work, before she turned to her brother-in-law and sisters, still holding on to the anthurium. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”
“So there’s a thing that happens,” David began. “A curse.”
“It is a curse, but it’s really more a curse for Jay. Not for the people who kiss him,” Marina added, also unhelpfully. “Obviously, they end up just fine.”
“Marina,” Mara groaned. “From the beginning.”
“Okay, remember when my car broke down in the middle of C-5, and I realized that I loved David when he was the first person I called?” Marina asked her. Mara nodded, having heard this particular story recounted several times. In fact, she heard that story just today when Marina read her vows in front of the church.
David had commuted like a bat out of hell from Makati when Marina called (well, as fast as a bat could commute in Metro Manila, which still took a while). There really wasn’t much he could do to help aside from sit with her in the broken car while it was dragged via wrecker from Taguig to Rizal on a Friday night. The proximity led to them admitting their feelings for each other, and the rest was history. “I had just come from a date with Jay, where we’d kissed for the first time.”
“And you remember when Selena Guerro got engaged, she had this whole post about the ex that was her good luck charm?” David asked. And again, yes, Mara remembered because even she who wasn’t into local celebrity gossip had heard about it. Had read the post and commented how odd it was to credit your latest relationship to your ex. “Guess who.”
“Wait,” Mabel said, shaking her head in confusion. In her mind, the pieces arranged themselves into a simple answer. Not the most logical, but perhaps the most simple. Occam and his razor rejoiced. “Are you saying he’s like…a last kiss guy?”
“ The last kiss guy.” David nodded. “If you want to find the one, if you want to marry the love of your life, even if you’ve never had a love of your life, you kiss Jay Montinola. A hundred percent, the next person you meet, you marry.”
“We’re here!” A familiar voice filled the room, as Mara, Marina and Mabel’s parents burst into the salon in a flurry of formal wear, their driver carrying a tote bag full of Sonya’s Garden treats behind them. It would have been hilarious in slow motion. “Time for family photos!”
I’m not the kind of guy people fall in love with . Jay said as much to her in the ballroom. And as Mara smiled for family photos, squeezed closer together and followed prompts of, “wacky, wacky,” she wondered if kissing Jay Montinola was actually a curse. To her it sounded more like an opportunity.
But she didn’t think she could kiss Jay. Not this time.