Chapter 3
Jason
I’m officially in hell.
“Open your legs a little,” Manolo, an old family friend and top-notch tailor, tells me as he measures my inseam for the suit I’ll be wearing to Cami’s wedding.
“No foreplay?” I whisper.
He playfully smacks my thigh and continues to whip through the process.
We’re in Xiomara’s Bridal consistent with her blunt personality, Denise is complaining about having to wear a “froufrou” dress.
“Get over it,” Lisa snaps.
“Bite me,” Denise counters.
Their squabbling isn’t even the hellish part.
No, the hellish part is that virtual strangers (to me) are stopping by to congratulate my mother on the upcoming nuptials—as if the day is all about her—and every single one of them thinks it’s okay to interrogate me about my bachelor status.
There are no boundaries among Latinx folks.
“What are you looking for in a wife?” my mother’s friend asks. “A stay-at-home mom, or does she need to work outside the home too?”
As if I’m choosing my partner from a list of options on a touch screen. Jesus. “I’m not looking for a wife, so neither, I guess.”
Giving me something to do, Manolo grabs a jacket off a wardrobe rack and hands it to me. “Try this one first.”
As I slip on the jacket, another “visitor” pokes her head through the drapes separating the dressing area from the sales floor.
“Elba, ?cómo estás, mi amor?”
“Ay, querida, estoy tan cansada. Esta boda me va a matar.”
Being dramatic is my mother’s full-time job. Is this wedding really going to kill her? Really?
“Jason, say hello to Maria. You remember her from the neighborhood, right? Her daughter was a year behind you at Mount Carmel.”
“Sure, yeah. Nice to see you again.”
Maria clasps her hands together and gives me heart eyes. “You’re so tall and strong now! I can’t believe some woman hasn’t snapped you up yet. What are you waiting for?”
“That’s the issue,” my mother mutters. “He’s not waiting for anyone or anything.”
“I guess I just haven’t found ‘the one’ yet,” I say, narrowing my eyes at my mother.
“Do you want kids?” Maria asks.
“Um, I’m not at the stage of my life that kids are even in my head.”
“But what about in the future? How many would you say is good? I hope my daughter is blessed with five. Three girls and two boys.”
“Five?” I bark out. “??En esta economía?!”
“Recession or not, we always find a way to care for our children.”
What the hell is happening? I expected my mother to trot out a few women to make her point, but this is more than that. Way more than that. I’m being sized up like a prize horse. By random people whose daughters aren’t even here.
Suddenly a younger version of Maria separates the drapes and strides inside. I spoke too soon. This is Maria’s daughter, I presume. Can’t remember her name, though. She gives the elders air-kisses, then sidles up to me. “I hear you’re looking for a wife.”
“Definitely not.”
She gives me a shaky laugh. “Oh, good. Because I’m not interested in a husband. Way too busy with my career.” Then she looks me up and down. “But a hookup would be nice. As long as you’re not looking to stay the night. I’m way too—”
“Busy with your career,” I finish for her. “Yeah, I get it. Uh, thanks for the offer, but I’m not really looking for a hookup, either, um…What’s your name?”
“Does it matter?” she asks glumly.
Well, damn. “I’d like to think so, but if you don’t want to give it to me, that’s fine too. Good to see you anyway.”
“Is it?”
I want to melt into the floor. Anything to get me out of this excruciating experience. My mother has really outdone herself.
Just when I think I won’t be able to take any more, Cami reappears, her eyes glistening as she lets everyone take in the full effect of what I assume is “the dress.” Damn, my baby sister is a vision.
I remember when she and Denise would trail after me, wanting to play with their big brother.
And I always would. Ditched my friends any chance I got.
Because my sisters were kind and curious and looked up to me.
I didn’t deserve their adoration, but they gave it to me just the same.
Now look at Cami. She’s all grown up and ready to change the world.
“?Dios mío, te ves hermosa, mija! ?Como una princesa!” my mother exclaims.
Everyone gathers around Cami, oohing and aahing as they should.
Behind her, Denise and Lisa look just as happy that this dress appears to be the winner.
I glance at Lisa but quickly turn away when she meets my gaze shyly.
I don’t know for sure that she’s interested in me, but sometimes I catch a look from her that can best be described as longing.
She’s been Cami’s friend since they were teenagers, so I think of her as family.
Of course my sister thinks Lisa and I would make the perfect couple, but I’m way too jaded for someone like her.
She’s butterflies and rainbows. I’m moths and cloudy skies.
She’s a love-can-conquer-anything kind of woman.
I’m a love-is-never-gonna-happen type of guy.
I can already see how it all would go down too: I’d tell her that I’m not interested in anything serious.
That I’m not sure I’ll ever want to get married or have children.
And she’ll play along, claiming she’s not sure about any of that stuff either.
Because that’s what people do. They bend.
They reinvent themselves. Or they pretend so they can get their foot in the door, figuratively speaking.
We’re never our true selves when we’re trying to impress someone.
Not even me. No one really knows the person they’re with.
It’s no surprise, then, that relationships inevitably sour.
When intentions are revealed. Or indiscretions are discovered.
Maria subtly makes her way over to me. “Ask my daughter on a date. I bet she would say yes.”
“Did my mother put you up to this?”
Maria shrugs. “She just mentioned that you need a woman to help you settle down.”
“Your daughter isn’t interested in settling down either.”
“Danielle doesn’t know what she wants. Maybe you two would be good for each other.”
“If we are, I’m sure we could find that out on our own. Without our mothers being involved.”
Maria backs away. “Okay, okay. I can take a hint. But what about—”
My phone rings, and Maria swallows whatever she was going to say. Yes. Finally. A reprieve. Based on the tone, I already know the call’s from Eric, my best friend and business partner. Feigning a pressing need to answer, I excuse myself and walk out to the sales floor.
“What’s up, man?” I say.
“Hey, just a heads-up that the cabinets the designer wanted are back-ordered…”
Okay, this issue I can handle. Mothers trying to convince me to date their daughters? Not so much.
Vanessa
“C’mon, c’mon. Where is she?”
I’m double-parked near the door to Xiomara’s Bridal & Tux Shop, and my sister isn’t answering my texts.
Of course. This is what I get for trying to warm Lisa up with small favors and offering her a ride to her place in the Bronx.
What are the odds I’ll be able to run upstairs and let her know I’m here without getting a ticket or pissing off the person I’m blocking with my car?
With my luck? The odds are definitely not in my favor, but I’m going to risk it anyway.
So I take one last look at my phone, willing Lisa to respond, and when she doesn’t, I dart out of the car.
After huffing and puffing up the stairs, I dash inside the shop, the chime above the door summoning absolutely no one.
“Hello?”
I spin around uselessly, trying to figure out where everyone could be, until I register people laughing in the back.
I’m looking down at my phone again to see if Lisa received my messages as I make my way in that direction, when suddenly I’m tumbling into a clothing rack and grasping at air to avert a catastrophe. “Shit!”
Someone helps to keep me upright, and before I can get my bearings, the person is chuckling.
“Sorry,” I say as I unhook my shorts from the steel rod holding a mishmash of glittery miniskirts. Looking back, I immediately spot the culprit that caused my graceless entrance: a piece of worn and buckling carpet. “That was a close one.”
“I’ll give you points for creativity, but if you wanted to meet me, all you had to do is shake my hand and say hello.”
The arrogance in the person’s voice causes me to whip my head in their direction.
Wow, he’s a cutie—but his mouth is ruining the view.
He’s tall, broad shouldered, and boy-next-door handsome.
Inky black hair, dark eyes, and thick brows.
A jaw so sharp I can picture the points of a triangle mapped onto it.
His lips curve into a smile that sends my brain to dangerous places.
It’s telling me he can sweet-talk my mother and dirty-talk his way into my pants.
I’m unreasonably annoyed by his presence.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that was not an attempt to flirt. I literally tripped.”
“Sure you did,” the guy says, his knowing smile widening.
Whatever. I dismiss him with a wave and bend to pick up my phone, feeling a twinge in my lower back as I do. Ouch. Must have strained a muscle as I attempted to break my fall.
When I straighten, the guy’s still standing there, a smug expression firmly in place. “I’m looking for the Torres wedding party.” I point behind him. “Are they back there?”
“The person you’re actually looking for is right here. Did my mother invite you?”
“What? Why would she?”