AllFreeNovel
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His father blushes and waves him away. “No, no… You exaggerate.”
“He went to themilonga—the dance hall you call it, but it is so much more here. All the beautiful women of Buenos Aires wished to dance with him.”
Sofia is smiling and nodding, stroking her arm down her husband’s arm as if there is still electricity there for her. After thirty years, still there.
“But he only had eyes for my mother.Mi madre mas querida y preciada.Precious and treasured by all who know her, she was the mistress of the tango.”
“Es cierto. Truth!” Javier beams up at his wife.
“Many vie for the hands of these dancers. To dance with a professional at themilongais every dancer’s dream. But he looks to her—this is thecabeceo, the look before the tango—he looks and tilts his head. There are no words. You do not approach the lady. If she meets your gaze in return and nods, she accepts. If she looks away, perhaps there is a friend close by? Perhaps she is tired from the dancing? You do not press. You move on. You respect her. Always.”
“He looked at her? And she knew? He’s the one?” My mother is so pushy I want to strangle her. She’s been a dream this year, telling me things I never thought I’d hear, rewriting our history, but at the same time, she’s still the same Gwen Spicer who built an empire from the ashes of a marriage she calls “hellish” and “painful.” If she wants something to happen, it’s going to happen. And in this case, she’s going to write her happy ending into the story even if it’s more complicated than that. And what love story isn’t? Ours was a train wreck when it started. If it hadn’t been for Mariano insisting that it would work and pursuing me in spite of myself, I’d have fucked it up entirely.
“Sí.” Mariano breaks the spell and I’m snapped back to his gorgeous face. “One look and he knew. My father barely nods to my mother, she nods back, the people part on the dance floor and allow the magic to flow between them.”
“Like Lolly at my wedding!” Gustavo has never let me forget that I gave Mariano a lap dance. “Sheer, wanton lust.”
“And I have the video to prove it!” Alicia bursts out laughing, and I shoot her acease-and-desistglare. I don’t need his folks seeing me grind and writhe and flaunt myself in Mariano’s face.
My dear, lovely, impossibly handsome husband doesn’t translate the lap dance story for his parents or the non-English speakers, so Gustavo does—uninvited! He tells all of them the entire story, from beginning to end. The laughter is contagious and overrides my embarrassment, but neither Javier nor Sofia looks at me with pain or shame or disgust. Seems I get a pass for being a harlot when it comes to their boy!
“We have a little gift for you, Lolly of the Laughter.” Mariano pulls me from my seat and wraps his hands over my eyes as he leads me away from the table. “No peeking.”
He’s already given me everything I could possibly want. His heart, my future, our love. What more could there be?
The guests gasp and “awwww” collectively. I cannot think of what would provoke such a universal reaction.
Mariano whispers. “Keep them closed and give me your hand.”
I give him my hand, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, no…” I can smell her. “You didn’t! We said we’d wait—” He places my hand on my sweet, darling girl’s neck and I burst into tears. “Velveteen!” I can hardly breathe for gasping. I know it made all kinds of sense not to put her through a trans-Atlantic trip only to turn around and take her back again, especially without me to help her get through it, but being in England while she was stabled in Floridafor a whole yearwas a test I never want to go through again. And here she is! Glorious! Gentle! Nuzzling at my hand and pressing the flat of her face to my chest. She would never forget me, I had no fear of that! But the wordless communication that echoes between us is a single hope, a unified pledge: never again—we will never be parted, ever again. “I promise you, my lovely one. Let the Poop Woman come at me with all she has, I’ll never leave you behind. No matter what.”
Mr. Wiggins is almost as pleased to see her as I am, winding through her legs and snuffing at her hooves, eager to ensure she knows he’s there. I lift him to her muzzle so they can have a good sniff of each other, and the look that passes between them sends me into another round of uncontrollable tears. How lucky am I? To have someone who waded through my crap only to bring me the last piece of the puzzle. And for once, I accept the gift in the spirit it’s given—with an open heart and a willing soul from the man who understands what it is that makes my heart whole.
Velveteen has a stall fit for a queen. Deeply bedded with straw, a fresh hay net in the corner, a door to an outside paddock overlooking pastures full of polo ponies. And I am happy to tuck her into it, whispering words of love to her all the while. “You’re going to love it here, Teena. Just as much as I do. We have so much to see, so much to do. I can’t wait to show youtodo, everything.” Tomorrow, we will ride, and she will feel the luxury and freedom of the Argentinian pampas.
She rests her head on my shoulder, her breath sweet and hot on my neck. If it hadn’t already, my heart would explode. I leave her to her rest, and I return to the festivities with a light heart and an even lighter step. There’s eating and drinking—too much of everything—but it’s interspersed with speeches and dances. Mick Anderson gives a surprisingly heartfelt best man’s speech about how our union—Mariano’s and mine—is an example of how love is always worth fighting for. Alex Yanez, already on his sixth glass of champagne—and it’s barely noon—follows up with a groomsman’s toast, thankfully with fewer dirty jokes and more about how Marianolucked out, when in fact it wasmewho was the lucky one.
My husband stands, his hand shushing the applause. “I am so lucky that the world brings me Lolly. The only woman I have given my whole self to. Ladies and gentlemen, friends andfamilia, I give you Charlotte Benoit, my Lolly of the Laughter.”
The applause is outrageous, matched only by my blushes. I stand, press my lips to his, and turn to my lovely peeps. I have a speech, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get through it. So much has happened in the first year of our marriage. We’ve taught hundreds of polo classes together, ridden together, potentially prevented an international incident—I clear my throat, but the frog is lodged there tight. “Thank you.” I lean against him, pressing my back into his lithe form to make sure I don’t falter. “I have done nothing to deserve such luck.” I turn my eyes to his, inviting him to join me in this lifelong dance. My privatecabeceothat only he and I understand. “But I plan to grab it and run with it and never let go. My Mariano is the best of men.” The frog leaps in my throat, threatening to undo me. “The very, very best…” And that’s all I manage before I’m once again sobbing into his shirt.
Our friends rally around us, cheering and hugging, kissing and wishing, telling us we’re the perfect couple and so well matched, and all the things you hope, but don’t expect, to hear one time in your life. And here am I, hearing them for a second time.
“Told you so.” Alicia gives meun besoon each cheek as she winds her way up the stairs to her treetop bedroom with the Romeo and Juliet balcony. She hasn’t stopped telling me how right she was, how she knew, how she hoped I wouldn’t be a prize prat and screw it up. But I don’t care. That she was right is one of the great gifts of our friendship. She rolled the dice, told me the truth, and, once I believed her, everything turned around and clicked into place. “You look so happy, Lolly. His father was right. Even now, you’re the radiant bride.”
When she closes her door and I return to the arbor, Mariano is waiting for me. “For you, my love.”
The box is tiny, no bigger than my small finger, but it’s wrapped in an enormous bow and thrills me to my core.
“I kept this on my person from the moment I found it.”
I have no idea what to expect as I pull at the bow, letting it ripple to the floor, and lift the lid. “Oh!”
He takes the orange bobby pin, studded with orange sparkles, and threads it into my hair.
“You wore it the night you danced for me. At Gustavo’s wedding. You, the vision in orange who blotted out the very sun.”
I know what it is, but I can’t believe he has it. Has had it. All this time. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He turns his back on the crowd. “You can thank me later. When we aresolos, desnudos y envueltos uno alrededor del otro.”Alone and naked, wrapped around each other.
“Tu dentro de mi,”I reply.“Yo empujando contra ti.”You inside me, me thrusting against you.
And that’s precisely what happens when the celebrations are done and the night closes in on us. The moon washes us in her blessed light, while the stars kiss us all the way to the loft over the barn, where we storm one another until we are spent.
Thus shall it ever be.
Lolly and Mariano, our love the gift that keeps on giving.
