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Hank is at the built-in bar, at the far side of the room. He is already pouring us drinks. A laugh escapes me when I see how much he is pouring. He looks over his shoulder at me.
“Your mom and sister have been going at it for hours. I’ve earned this drink,” he grins then grabs the drinks and heads my way. He hands me a glass.
“Thanks.”
“What should we toast to?” he asks, holding up his glass.
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“How about we toast to us surviving this wedding?” he grins, making me laugh.
“Hell yeah. Let’s toast to that.” I hold up my glass and he taps mine with his. The room sounds with the clinking of our glasses. “Salud.”
“Salud.”
We both lift our glasses to our lips. The taste of whiskey coats my tongue and the warm liquid burns as it runs down the back of my throat. I’ve never been a fan of the stuff but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I lower my glass and bite back a grimace.
“I hate this crap. I prefer a beer but those are in the kitchen,” Hank frowns.
“Yeah, whiskey isn’t my first choice but I’ll take what I can get.”
“I hear ya on that,” he laughs. “Want another one?”
“Hank? Are you back here?” my mom calls out somewhere in the house. Hank’s shoulders sink in defeat.
“Better make it a double,” I blurt, walking over to the bar. Hank quickly joins me and pours us a drink. The door to the room opens.
“Salud,” Hank and I say in unison and then down our glasses.
My throat burns and my stomach is doing flips. I don’t hold back making a face this time. This shit is nasty.
“So here you are, Hank,” my mom snaps. “I thought you said there was a package at the door.”
“There was,” Hank groans, pointing at me.
“Miguel is the package you were talking about?” my mother huffs. “Ha! Very funny. And, why didn’t you bring him to where Jenna and I were?”
“I wanted to share a drink with him,” Hank replies.
I expect Hank to give her more of an explanation, but he doesn’t. It’s cut and dry. I believe he’s starting to feel the liquid courage. Just hope he can survive the consequences from it.
“Clearly,” my mom says coldly. She looks at me. “Were you not going to come sayhello?”
“Hadn’t planned on it,” I shrug.
“Manners just like your fath–”
My blood boils. I know exactly where she is going with her words. She’s as ruthless as a snake.
I open my mouth to cut her words off.
“That’s enough, Marcia,” Hank growls. “Miguel is my guest. You won’t mistreat him.”
My mother narrows her eyes on him. If looks could kill, Hank would be a dead man. I appreciate him sticking up for me, but my mom isn’t the best person to go up against.
“Since when did you two become buddy-buddy?” she seethes.
