His hand settles into the curve of my neck, and he strokes his thumb over my pulse point. “It was only ever for you, mi corazón.”
Knowing that our rivalry was one-sided, that he was just trying to be close to me however I’d let him, is bittersweet. What else did I misinterpret back then?
But we’re here now. We’re older, wiser, and hotter. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I’m hoping it includes making up for lost time.
If we survive this wedding.
The ceremony is going to be held outside on the lawn, leading out to the water. A short, raised pier has been added, with an arbor draped in black tulle and adorned with blush pink and bordeaux colored roses. Overhead, la Luna rises high and full, blessing us all. It’s almost time.
Rows of chairs fill the lawn, occupied by immediate and extended family members, close friends, Isla Bruja council members, and high witches from around the world. It’s a brujería who’s who, and even more people will be showing up for the reception.
The cameras are everywhere, and I can’t tell who’s already in a trance or not. I stick to the plan, avoiding the cameras as I chat with guests, and using the “I think I hear my mother calling” excuse whenever I see a camera approaching.
I also play that card anytime someone makes a snide comment about how I abandoned my customers.
Gee, so sorry I burned out and cost you all the opportunity to wear “a Catalina original” to my own sister’s wedding. It’s everything I can do not to roll my eyes right in their faces.
“I think I hear my mother calling,” I tell a young woman and her wife. We’re related somehow, but I can’t remember if it’s through my mom or my dad. I slip into the crowd and find my way back to Diego’s side. We’re cutting it close, waiting to do the exorcism during the ceremony, but it’s the only time we can be sure we’ll have everything we need. And, we hope, the demon will be too distracted to stop us.
Finally, the music begins, and the wedding party assembles on the patio to pair off.
Diego cocks his head and listens for a moment, his dark eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Is that what I think it is?”
I smother a snicker. “A string version of ‘Take Me to Church’? Yeah. It’s part of Caro’s subtle revenge on our mother.”
“Truly diabolical.”
I check in with Sophie the flower girl, crouching down to her height. She’s my cousin’s daughter and cute as a button with her round brown cheeks and springy ringlets. She’s also barely four, so I’m a little worried about the role she’s playing in our exorcism.
“Are you excited to be the flower girl, Sophie?”
“Oh yes. So excited!”
“Do you remember what you have to do for the wedding?”
“I have a basket and there’s flower petals in it. They’re red, pink, red, red…”
She continues naming the colors of each individual petal. I straighten with a sigh and take Diego’s arm.
Sophie’s basket isn’t only holding rose petals. It’s hiding a bag of salt I’ll need to cast a circle around the demon.
The song changes to a string version of ‘Despacito.’ Beside me, Diego is practically shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Matteo hates this song,” he mutters.
“I bet you a million dollars that’s why Caro chose it.”
“There’s no way I’m taking that bet.”
“Smart man.”
It feels good to be able to laugh and joke at a time like this. Otherwise, I’ll focus too much on the way my stomach is tied up in knots.
I’ll focus too much on the abject terror.
I look out at the assembled guests. Many of them my relatives, all of them people I’ve known my whole life. I went to New York to get far away from all this, from the expectations and pressure of being a resident of Isla Bruja, a member of the magical Latinx diaspora in the States.
Now? I only want to protect them.
