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Just the wrong wedding.
I was supposed to get married to Diego. I can imagine Mamá telling me that I’m jealous and have always wanted whatever Belén has, which has never been true.
I’ve always wanted us to be twins. The type that would share everything and could never be apart. I crave that.
Did the priest say what I think he said? It is now time to kiss the bride?
Can’t he just blow me a kiss and get this over and done with?
“Belén, you can’t keep your veil on for this part. The part I’ve been looking forward to,” he says firmly.
Then he does something I didn’t think he was ever capable of. He smiles.
Diego’s eyes light up, and his lips curl. He knows how to smile?
It’s as if it hypnotizes me, and I forget that only a few seconds ago, I was wanting to kick off these heels and run into the confessional. There are too manypecados4 in one day for me. Too many. I’m too young to go to hell and have Satan welcome me. I’m a good Catholic girl—or I was until now.
His arm envelops my waist like a serpent, and a lump forms in my throat. I signed as my sister, wore her dress, and now I’m going to kiss the man that should have originally been my husband, but then hers, and is now mine but not really all in the same day.
What have I done?
Before I can even blink, no more is the veil covering my face, even if it’s silly because he knows I’m not Belén. Then I hear footsteps running out of the back of the library. I want to see who doesn’t want to witness the devil claiming me as his and taking me to his lair after to punish me.
Confessional. Can I just go to church now?
And in one quick moment, his lips are pressed against mine. Is this what it’s like to kiss the devil himself?
My mind whirls a hundred miles a minute. I’m sobbing against his mouth, but he quickly gets rid of these feelings of regret, the emotions building up inside of me. It’s as if no more do I remember that I’m with family and friends to witness my sister’s wedding.
His hand comes to rest at the small of my back, sending a shiver through me.
His tongue maneuvers inside of me, as if it’s about to claim me as his. I’ve kissed him before, but not like this. We were younger, and it was different back then. It was more of a “let me know what you taste like” kiss, nothing like now. He knows what I taste like, and now he’s going to indulge in me for all to see. I can’t move even if I want to, because I’m lost in his touch. How can someone I despise so much do this to me?
It’s almost as if the words mi prima says so many times run through my mind: “Are you sure you don’t wish you were marrying Diego? He’s the only person you talk about all the time.”
I talk about him because I work with him, and he makes my life unbearable, but if that’s the only reason, then why do my lips part eagerly for his tongue? Why do I become boneless in his arms as if I can’t do anything but be kissed by him?
He sucks on my tongue, robbing me off all my common sense. It’s harsh, passionate, and demanding. Our families’ joyous laughter and cheering is barely louder than the blood in my ears, and he seems to take that as permission to stop, pulling away slowly to stare at me.
“She wants more, Diego!”mi primo5 Jose shouts as I try to open my eyes and focus, but it’s too late, because he spins me around and helps me stand up. Nothing is making any sense, because he’s kissing me as if I’m the right bride, but up until now he’s been acting as if he knows that I’m not Belén.
“She’ll get a lot more than thaten nuestra luna de miel6,” someone shouts out.
There’s another roar of laughter, testosterone fills the air as I can hear more men laughing than women. I turn to see Belén is no longer in her spot. No more is she in the library.
What does she want?
She begged me to marry him, and then she just leaves when we haven’t sorted out all the details yet. Not properly, she was too busy making sure that I was getting ready for the wedding.
Her wedding.
Now, the wedding is over what happens next is still up in the air. Everything about what just happened is all wrong.
It’s as if I did want to marry Diego, and now that I have as Belén, I want to become a nun, to repent for my sins. I try to be a good Catholic girl, so why oh why I agreed to this is beyond my comprehension. I shouldn’t have married him, let alone think about giving him a baby, not like this. I’m going to be punished my whole life for what I’ve just done. The guilt is weighing heavily on my mind.
I mean, it makes no sense. If I have his baby, would I be expected to sign our baby’s birth certificate as my sister?
“Venga mi amor7,” Diego says as he holds my hand and leads me out of the library. This time, he’s not being as rough as he was earlier.
