“But it’s tradition,” Viviane whines.
My mother stands and motions for my aunt to zip her mouth shut. “Pare de choramingar, Viviane. Ela não quer strogonoff de frango no casamento, então não vai ter. Ponto final!”
Oh. Go, Mãe.
Max leans forward and whispers in my ear, “What’d she say?”
He’s way too close, the puffs of his minty breath floating against my neck like a dozen butterflies. I scoot forward and clear my throat. “She said Natalia doesn’t want stroganoff at her wedding so it won’t be there and that’s final.”
“I love your mother,” Max says.
Although I don’t want to, I smile at his earnest—and ridiculous—pronouncement, then quickly return to business mode. “Next, let’s talk about a Brazilian tradition we can incorporate into the wedding. Any ideas, Tia?”
Viviane rubs her chin. “We could pass out bem-casados as people leave.” She juts her chin out at Max. “Before you ask, they’re sponge cake cookies. For good luck.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Thirty minutes later, we’ve ironed out a host of differences and saved Natalia and Paolo’s wedding. “Okay, I think we’re in pretty good shape. The wedding’s only a month away, so if you have to-dos, please complete them as soon as you can.” I rise from my chair and stretch out my arms.
“Not so fast,” my mother says. “We need to talk to that one over there.”
Max, who’s still sitting, turns from side to side and looks around. “Who? Me?”
“Yes, you,” my mother says.
Izabel tuts at her. “Mariana, this isn’t necessary.”
“I think it is,” my mother says stubbornly.
Bahaha. This is perfect. My family will take it from here.
Max
Why don’t I just tell Rey to knock me out and be done with it? That would be better than having to answer to Lina’s mother.
I stand and cross my hands in supplication. “May I remind you”—I glance at Rey, then look at Lina’s mother—“respectfully, of course, that I wasn’t the one to leave Lina at the altar? That was my brother, in case there’s any confusion on that point.”
“But you encouraged him to?” Lina’s mother asks.
“I suppose. Maybe this won’t make sense, but I was a jack—jerk, I was an immature jerk back then. Listen, let me say my piece and then you can pick me apart all you want. I’ll take it.”
She nods and motions for me to come forward with a flick of her fingers, as though she’s a character in a martial arts movie challenging her next opponent. The gesture confirms what I suspected: If I don’t talk my way out of this, she will kick my ass.
I take a deep breath and do what I do best—identify a theme and sell it. “I don’t see any point in rehashing the past. Suffice it to say that if my brother truly loved Lina, he either wouldn’t have left her at the metaphorical altar or he would have found his way back to her.” I swivel around to speak to Lina directly. “Assuming you would have wanted him back, that is.”
To her mother, I say, “But here’s what I know today. My brother’s a decent guy. He isn’t mean, he’s rarely rude to anyone except me, and he doesn’t fuss. I expect he’ll make a fine father and husband one day. But being in this family’s presence for less than an hour tells me that my brother wouldn’t have been Lina’s perfect match. You’d want her to have someone full of life like all of you. You’d want someone who would absolutely adore her. Who’d make her take down her bun and forget herself even for just a few minutes. Who’d make her cry, but only for the sappiest reasons.” I take a deep breath and shrug. “All I’m saying is, I’m sorry for the role I played in their breakup, but I don’t think my brother was right for her anyway.”
Slowly, so as not to be obvious about it, I turn around to gauge Lina’s reaction to my monologue. Surprise, surprise, her face is blank. I’m gearing up to make a joke to ease the tension, but she excuses herself and brushes past me, heading to an area beyond the store’s front counter.
Lina’s mother claps her hands together and smiles at her sisters.
Rey rounds the counter and approaches, the bulk of his upper body propelling him to where I’m standing.
I close my eyes. “If you’re going to deck me, do it quick and knock me unconscious. It’s the humane thing to do.”
“I’m not going to hit you,” Rey says as his bear paws land on my shoulders like feathers. “Any man who speaks about my sister the way you just did can’t be all bad.” He gives my shoulders a light squeeze. “I’m a big believer in second chances. And the way you and Lina have been getting along, looks like she agrees. That’s enough for me.”
It’s not enough for Natalia, though. Lina’s cousin shakes her head at me, a scowl on her face.
“What did I do now?” I say, unable to moderate the frustration in my voice.
“That hypothetical individual you described?” Natalia says. “The perfect person for Lina?”
“Yeah? What about him? Or her. Them.” I shake my head. “You know what I mean.”
Natalia gives me a sympathetic pat on my shoulder. “You just described her worst nightmare.”
I can’t even begin to wrap my head around what that means. But this is Lina we’re talking about, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Another part of her personality that confounds me? Eh, sounds about right.
I frown at Natalia. “Care to explain?”
She shakes her head. “That’s the most you’ll get from me, friend.”
“We’re friends now?” I ask, raising a brow.
Natalia winks at me. “Correction. We’re acquaintances.”
“I can live with that.”
“You don’t have any choice but to live with that,” she singsongs as she pulls Paolo up from his chair and spins him to the beat of the music suddenly filling the store.
If the universe liked me, I would fall for someone like Natalia. Someone who’s open and unafraid to say exactly what’s on her mind. But I’m thinking about the woman no longer in the room. Wondering if she’s okay. Wanting to see her reluctant smile again. I don’t know much, but I know this: The universe hates me.
Chapter Fifteen
Lina
My elbow connects with the corner of the medicine cabinet as I try to splash water on my cheeks. Damn, this bathroom’s tiny. I’m probably only realizing it now because I have no reason to be here other than that it enables me to avoid everyone out there.
How the hell did this evening become a guest lecture on The Man I’m Meant to Marry 101? Oh, that’s right. Max Hartley, visiting Distinguished Professor of Talking Out Your Ass, is in the building. Max doesn’t know me. He has no idea what makes me tick, and he’d never understand why I am who I am. And still, he has no problem mansplaining my love life to my family.
Little does Max know, I once found that mythical creature he described. His name was Lincoln, and in my third and fourth years of college at UMD I believed we were destined to be together. I mean, even our nicknames—Linc and Lina—proved that fate was involved.