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“It’ll put hair on your chest,” he said proudly.
“Great. Exactly what I need.”
When my mom gazed up at Frank with one arm around his waist, he kissed her nose. “Want some,mi vida?”
“No, thank you. I learned my lesson the first time.”
I pointed around the room. “What’s this all about, anyway?”
Mom and Frank smiled at each other, sharing a secret with their eyes, and I gasped. “Are you pregnant?”
He guffawed as my mother’s mouth dropped to a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what is it?”
Frank smiled at me then tugged on my mom’s hand, backing up three steps to the landing. “Excuse me, everybody. Excuse me.” The crowd all turned their attention to the pair. “We want to thank everyone for coming tonight. You’re all our closest family and friends, and we want you to be the first to know—”
“We’re getting married!” my mom shrieked, showing off her left hand. A sparkling cupcake of a diamond sat on her ring finger, and the party erupted into congratulatory shouts. Everyone rushed forward, hugging and kissing the newly engaged couple.
I, on the other hand, soaked up the mild burn of alcohol at the back of my tongue after another sip of pitorro. My mother was a hopeless romantic, and a wedding was nothing new but no less aggravating.
I loved Frank, which was exactly why I wasn’t happy about them getting married.
When the crowd finally dispersed, my mother motioned me over. I tossed back the rest of the pitorro in one gulp and choked as it slid down my throat. I wiped my mouth. “Married, Mom? Whatever happened to living in sin?”
She ignored the comment and tucked me under her arm, directing me a few feet to a man by the piano. Given that his back was to us, I could only make out his height and shaggy hair.
“Gemmie, since you’ll be my maid of honor, I want you to meet Jason Mitchell. He’ll be the best man.” At the mention of his name, he turned around, and Mom thrust me forward like a prized pig. “Jason, this is my daughter, Gemma.” She smoothed down some flyaways from my bun. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
I looked up, up, up to the man in front of me to find cool blue eyes assessing me from the top of my head to feet and back again. The corner of his mouth quirked in a tediously self-assured way as he stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He was much younger than Frank, probably around my age, and I briefly wondered why he would be the best man. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t really care. He had that preppy East Coast collegiate look about him, the type of guy I purposefully avoided. Tall and tanned with a jaw that could cut glass.
Gross.
His thick ashy-blond hair, long enough to tickle his earlobes and curl at the ends, was the only thing unkempt about him.
Ugh.
He probably played lacrosse or owned a boat, maybe both, and my skin prickled with bad memories.
My mom nudged me back into reality, and I shook his hand, trying to keep the reflexive disdain from my voice. “Yeah, you too.”
Jason’s gaze dropped to our clasped hands, his face morphing from arrogance to surprise, but I wasn’t at all interested in any more conversation and dropped our handshake.
Mom clapped in delight. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together. Come on, you two, grab your seats for dinner. I put you next to each other at the table.”
She all but skipped away as I stood in place, frozen between annoyance and disbelief. She was getting marriedagain, and I’d apparently have to spend time with a guy who carried the calling card for everything I hated most. “I need another drink.”
“I can get it for you,” he offered, reaching for my glass, but I snatched it away.
“Nope.”
He cocked his head, his brow furrowing in a question I didn’t care to answer.
“I’m good.” I whirled away from him, ignoring the stare I felt on my back as I uncorked the tall jar of pitorro and took a whiff of the coconut-and-almond scent before pouring two fingers worth of the alcohol into my glass.
After a sip, I pivoted around, catching Jason’s attention zip back to the two men in front of him, and I inhaled a breath meant to calm me. It didn’t.
