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CHAPTER25
“Why don’t you stay, Regina?”Lauren squatted in the sand to lock up the King of Pastries tent so Sylvie’s godmother didn’t have to bend over.
Sylvie watched them as she secured items to a handcart with a bungee cord. She was always so sure that Lauren was faking when she was nice to other people. But now, as she watched her help a near perfect stranger, she wondered if she was maybe, possibly, perhaps . . . a tiny bit wrong.
“No, mija. At my age you turn into a pumpkin after midnight,” Regina joked.
Lauren flashed a dimple. “Why are gourds associated with going home? At the end of a party my grandma used to send everyone home with—”
“Calabaza, calabaza. . . todo el mundo pa' su casa,” Sylvie guessed, unable to stop herself from saying the same refrain her grandparents used.
Lauren’s gleaming dark eyes brightened. “Yes! What even is that? Pumpkin, pumpkin take your butt home? Who came up with that?”
Regina laughed. “Not quite as lyrical in English, huh? You lose something without the rhyme.”
“I don’t think you could possibly turn into a big orange squash.” Lauren winked at Regina. “Join us for a little while. All these food nerds know how to have a good time.” Using her eyes, she pointed toward the big tent at the end of the closed-up booths where music was blaring. “Have a drink. Maybe show us your dance moves?”
Regina’s fair skin was already mildly sunburnt, but she flushed with even more color. “Mija, if I drink the heartburn will drown me.” She laughed. “Not to mention, I won’t be able to get up in the morning.”
“Oh come on, Madrina,” Sylvie poked her in the arm, “Come on. Have a little fun.”
“You know what I think is fun? A bubble bath and a nice trashy romance,” Regina countered, unwilling to be persuaded. “But you girls go.” She took the handcart from Sylvie and fixed her in her gaze, sending a silent message with her eyes. “Let go and have a little fun.”
Instead of objecting, Sylvie cracked a momentary smile. “I’m only staying for a minute. You never know who you might rub elbows with at these things.”
Lauren floated away to double check the locks on the canvas covering her stall. Sylvie wasn’t stupid. She knew she was discreetly trying to give them privacy. She’d picked up on Regina’s lack of subtly.
When Lauren was out of ear shot, Regina leaned in. “The only person you need to worry about rubbing against is her,” she whispered.
“Madrina!”
“Sorry, that came out wrong,” she bit back a laugh. “You girls—”
“We’re in our thirties.”
“You ladies then, whatever,” Regina rolled her eyes. “Listen to what I’m saying, mi vida. I’ve spent most of the day with you two. Esa muchacha can’t stop looking at you.” She smiled with the very tip of her lip. “And you can’t go five minutes without glancing over at her. Give yourselves a chance. Get out of your own way.”
“Madrina, it’s not—”
“Don’t tell me what it is or isn’t, okay. I can see. More than you can. Stop thinking about all the family stuff. Just for tonight, pretend you’re both Smith and Jones. See what happens.”
Sylvie opened her mouth. She wanted to tell her what Freddie discovered. To unburden herself of the secret. To ask her godmother whether that changed things. Ask whether she should tell Lauren.
“Promise me,” Regina implored, her blue eyes intent as if trying to engage a Vulcan mind-meld. “Promise that you’re going to put all the nonsense aside. At least for a few hours, hopefully more, but at least tonight. I’ll even come run the booth again tomorrow if you stay up all night.” She wiggled her brows.
“Madrina!” she scream whispered, her skin flooding with heat. She couldn’t think that far ahead.
“I’m just saying,” she kept her voice low as her eyes drifted to Lauren who was squatting again. “Lauren is very pretty and that booty gives JLo a run for her money.”
“Okay,” Sylvie took Regina by the shoulders and turned her away from the booth. She didn’t need to be reminded of all the very attractive parts of Lauren. The parts she spent years trying not to notice. “It’s time for you to go.”
“You’re really not going to stay a while? Not even one glass of sangria?” Lauren’s dimple was admittedly hard to reject.
“You’re speaking my language, but no.” Regina took hold of Sylvie’s cart. “Give me this. I’ll take it. Now, you two go do all the things I would do.” She laughed.
Lauren stood at Sylvie’s side as they watched Regina walk toward the loading zone, the handcart trailing behind her. “I didn’t know there were nice people in your family.”
Sylvie jabbed her in the side with her elbow. “There’s always a weak link, isn’t there?”
