“Yeah, she’s so happy you’re marrying me—a man with a loving family.”
Atzi snatches the phone. “Te hablo luego, Tita. Si, te quiero much.”
I rise from my seat and pull out two hundred-dollar bills and set them on the table. “It’s time to go. Seems like we have a lot to discuss, Pinocchio.” I whisper the last word and tap her nose.
Chapter Thirteen
Heath
If the earlier drive was dreadful, this one is a hundred times worse. Neither one of us speaks. I don’t know what’s going through Atzi’s head, but I hope she knows how angry I am.
I am too fucking mad at her.
She knows I hate lies. Hate them. Why would she tell her family we’re going to get married?
Once inside my place, I lock the elevator, ensuring that none of my nosy brothers will barge in.
I begin with the easy one. “What’s chaparro or why would she call me short?”
She narrows her gaze. “Oh, that’s the endearing term she uses for my grandfather, who, by the way, is almost six feet.”
“And what does prometido mean?” I ask, wondering if that’ll help me piece everything together.
Atzi barely glances at me. She heaves a breath, and her gaze drops. “Fiancé.”
Okay, I was almost right. I should start taking French and Spanish classes if I… no, there’s no if. Our friendship is over, and way to fuck it up, Atzi. But I can’t just leave things like that. I have to at least figure out why she did it.
“I’m guessing part of the issue you’re currently troubleshooting has to do with the conversation I just had with your abuela.”
She holds her midriff while staring at the floor. “I…”
“What the fuck, Atzi?”
I walk toward the floor-to-ceiling window and stare at the Golden Gate Bridge. This can’t be more fucked up even if she tried. “She wants to set up the wedding date. Why did your grandmother call me your fiancé?”
She’s quiet for a bit. I don’t care what’s in her mind. There has to be a reason why her grandmother thinks we’re getting married. “Atzi, I’m waiting.”
“It all started with a little white lie.” She drags the words out.
“Little would be if she thinks we’re casually dating.” I don’t turn to look at her. I need to control my anger before I face her.
“That’s exactly what it was when this began,” she assures me.
I snicker. Little white lie, my ass. When I turn around, I find her on the couch, covered with the fuzzy blanket. Almost terrified of me. “That’s how it started,” she insists.
She’s melting my determination, but I won’t let her. I cross my arms, staring at her. “I’m listening.”
She sighs. “It happened during my sophomore year of college. The semester I spent in México City, she invited me to parties and events where I could meet eligible young men. It was dreadful. One day, she saw a picture of us on the nightstand and… well, I told her we were dating.” She shrugs. “It was an easy solution. You often called, so she believed it right away. It was a harmless lie.”
I blink twice. “That was nine years ago.”
She gives me a weak smile. “Ten.”
“You could’ve broken up”—I draw air quotes—“with me years ago.”
“Oh, we have done that a few times.” She scratches her neck as if she has hives. I should check her skin. When she’s too anxious, she tends to scrape her arms and neck raw. “But when she threatens to introduce me to someone, we’re back together. After six years of dating, we moved in together and two years ago—”
“Let me guess, I proposed?”
She bobs her head a couple of times. “It made sense at the time.”
“So, what’s our current status, darling?”
“Living together and happily engaged.”
I groan. “She thinks we’re going to get married and wants us to set up a date while they’re here. This is why you’ve been in a funk, isn’t it? She’s coming to visit, and she’ll learn you’ve been lying for years.”
“Partially.”
“How… I don’t even know what to ask. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You hate lies, and I was working on fixing it.”
“This is pretty simple. You tell her the truth.” I dust my hands as if I have restored the order of the universe.
“It’s not that simple. If I do, she might get upset. You don’t understand her. She has a plan for me, just like she did for Mom.” She clamps her lips. “Mom died. I’m her last hope. I don’t want to disappoint her.”
Her eyes are filled with moisture, and I can sense the devastation.
“And what are you going to do when she visits?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to meet someone, but—”
The married asshole now makes a lot of sense. “You were looking for the one you could replace me with, weren’t you?”
She twists her lips. “Yeah.”
I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but… “What’s the plan?”
“I have a couple of weeks to fix it.”
But she doesn’t, and even though I promised to keep the surprise from her, I have to break it. “Your grandparents arrive on Sunday.”
“What?!” she shrieks. “I’m not ready. Why did you answer the phone?”
“I didn’t want you to miss her call. However, not answering wouldn’t stop them from arriving in just a few days. You should tell her the truth.”
“Nope. This is too complicated. I don’t want to lose the only connection I have to Mom!”
“You wouldn’t lose it,” I assure her.
She covers her face with the blanket. “Abuelita stops talking to people if they disappoint her.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Atzi shakes her head. “She did it with Mom.”
“What do you mean?”
Atzi comes out from hiding. “She met Dad during one of her trips to Paris. He was there just for the summer. They stayed in touch, and met several times here in SanFran. Then she registered to take classes at the Art Institute of San Francisco, so she could be close to Dad—and moved in with him. When he proposed, my grandmother was livid. She disowned her and didn’t go to her wedding. It wasn’t until I was born they started talking again. It took her four years to forgive my mother.
“I didn’t want that to happen to me, which is why I had to use an excuse. You. I couldn’t tell her I wasn’t ready to date or marry—I was just nineteen. That would upset her, so I continued the lie. I’m just trying to keep the few people who still love me close. Aunt Cécile left me when I was old enough, and… you know the story. If I piss them off, they’ll just stop answering my calls and I’ll be broken and all alone.”
I’ve known her for years, and this is the first time I understand why she always bends over backward for her family. Every Christmas, she buys presents for every family member—even when they don’t send anything in return. She also sends presents on their birthdays and anniversaries. If anyone needs money, she only asks where to send it.