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“It’s just that we–”
“I know,” she whispers. “I was a crappy friend. I’ll own that. But that doesn’t change the history we have. You were my best friend in the whole wide world.”
Were being the keyword.
“Ysenia, I can’t get married without my childhood best friend there. I just can’t. I’m sorry. I need you. Please.” The last of her words came out as a plea.
I knew what was about to happen. It always happens. Jenna bats her long eyelashes, gives me puppy-dog eyes, and then I cave. I’m such a sucker. Guess I haven’t changed much after all.
Be strong, Ysenia. Be strong.
“I don’t know if–” I begin again.
“Ysenia, please. I’m begging,” she sniffles.
“Jenna, what’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up straight in my chair. “Did something happen?”
“No. It’s just that all of the people I was once close to, don’t want to go to my wedding and I have to beg. First, Miguel. Now, you.”
Miguel?The name alone made me melt like butter. Jenna’s older brother was my kryptonite. I turned to putty every time he was near. He was tall, sexy, rough around the edges, and so much more. Everything that turned me on… and he knew it.
Whenever I’d spend the night at Jenna’s, Miguel would catch me staring. Every. Single. Time. It was like he had clairvoyance or something. I was mortified each time, but he never called me out on it. He just quickly left the room as though I had the plague.
Bastard,I mutter to myself.
“Is your brother going to be there?” I ask with a little too much frustration in my voice.
“Yes. He finally agreed!” I could hear her clap her hands together. “I even convinced him to stay for a whole month!”
“A month!” I gasp.
“I know, right?” she laughs. “Now, if I can just convince you, I’ll be as happy as a hog in mud.”
As much as I try not to, I giggle. Her country sayings have always made me laugh. We were both born and raised in Texas, but the difference was our parents. Hers were from Texas, mine wasn’t. My dad was from Mexico and my mom was from Vermont. Freaking Vermont.
Either way, the cute Texas phrases didn’t stick for me.
“You and your sayings,” I chuckle then lean back in my chair, letting out a heavy sigh. “When’s the wedding.”
Chapter FOUR
Miguel
One month later…
The flight to Texas was pure hell. Some kid screamed for the first six hours. The jerk next to me, who had the window seat, kept getting up every hour to use the restroom so I kept having to get up or let him climb over me. And, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I missed my connecting flight because of Customs. The lady thought my passport was fake and drilled me about my identity.
My flight from JFK to DFW was fairly quiet. Only a few turbulent bumps and yappy passengers. Nothing over the top; however, I had never been so relieved to exit the plane.
“Where the hell are you, Jenna?” I mutter, looking around the baggage claim. Everyone and their mom seems to be here, except my sister.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and quickly call her.
“Hey, bro,” she says cheerfully.
“Where are you?” I growl.
“I had a hair appointment so I sent someone to pick you up,” she replies as though it’s no big deal to stand me up. It’s not like I flew halfway across the world to come to her wedding.
