Page 18 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Eight Years and Five Months Before the Wedding

People are gawking, and my arms might fall off soon, but Javi’s reaction will be so worth it. Where the hell is he anyway? Was he the very last person to get off the plane?

An elderly woman with the scent of hair spray preceding her sidles up to me and whispers, “I hope he says yes.”

“Me too,” I tell her with a wink.

Is Javi going to kill me for holding up a sign that says I’m having your baby! Will you marry me? Absolutely. Do I care? Absolutely not. Someone needs to get him out of his funk, and I’m the only someone he’ll tolerate on his best days, let alone his worst.

Seconds later, I’m bouncing on my toes, my gaze zeroed in on the exit double doors, when Javi finally strolls through them, a navy duffel bag slung across one shoulder.

I watch him search for me in the crowd, and as I hoped, his jaw drops when he spots me and reads the sign in my hands.

At this point, everyone in the immediate vicinity is staring, probably wondering how all of this is going to go down.

I give him a goofy smile. “Gotcha!”

Oh shit. Javi doesn’t look amused. Did I miscalculate the depth of his slump?

“You’ve got a lot of nerve asking me to marry you,” he bellows. “Is the kid even mine? I mean, it’s bad enough that you cheated on me with my brother, but now you’re trying to get me to raise his kid too?”

A quick glance around confirms that people are shifting in their seats, trying to get a better view of the (fake) drama.

I wrap my arms around him, unable to contain my laughter. “Okay, fair enough. You got me.”

Apparently he’s committed to the role, though, because he throws me off him, drops his duffel, and then paces in front of me massaging his temples.

Serves me right for thinking I could embarrass him in a public place.

Javi hates attention, but he also hates that I think he’s predictable, and my stunt only works if he reacts the way I expect him to.

“This is just like you,” he shouts, his nostrils flaring. “Treating me like garbage and expecting me to come crawling back to you. Where’d you even go last night?” To a young Indian man sitting on a nearby bench, he says, “I went to visit my little sister in New York.”

(Javi doesn’t have a sister, the rat.)

“She’s sick,” he continues. “I had to go alone because this one”—he aims a thumb in my direction—“couldn’t be bothered to answer her phone. I bet she was with my brother.”

“That’s terrible,” the guy says, his eyes narrowed on me.

I scan the crowd and notice several people trying to secretly record this undeniably juicy slice of life. Which is when it registers that my prank is getting entirely out of hand. The last thing I need is to go viral for being an asshole with questionable morals.

“He’s acting,” I tell our audience as I pull Javi along. “Came all the way to L.A. to be discovered. What do you think? Should he quit his job making dildo casts and move to Hollywood?”

“Why not do both?” someone shouts, a hint of amusement in their voice.

“Not a bad idea,” I reply.

We’re forgotten within seconds. It’s L.A.

, after all. Which gives me a moment to study Javi as we face each other.

He may not be in good spirits, but he looks great.

Broader shoulders. Sharper cheekbones. A bit more facial hair.

It’s entirely possible that he hasn’t changed at all, but my eyes are amplifying everything about him because I’ve missed him so much.

“Always so extra,” Javi says playfully. “Give me that damn hug you promised.”

We come together in a tight embrace, my head resting against his chest. He smells amazing, though I wish I hadn’t noticed. I also wish hugging Javi felt like hugging a brother. It never has.

“This is what I needed,” he says, his voice managing to be both soft and gruff at the same time.

“Did you check a bag?” I ask.

“Do I look like an amateur? Of course not.”

“Oh, thank God.” I step back and pull on his jacket, tugging him toward the exit. “First, we need to get you out of those clothes. You’re not in New York anymore, Toto.”

Javi smiles as he surveys the frenetic activity around him. I follow his gaze, noticing the moment he and a woman exchange a flirty glance as they pass each other. Javi’s a handsome guy, so I shouldn’t be surprised someone finds him attractive. Still, it’s strange—and unsettling for some reason.

“Dímelo, what do you have planned for us while I’m here?” he asks, snatching me out of my thoughts.

“Well, if it’s okay with you, I thought we could have dinner with my dad. He’s paying, so that’s a big bonus.”

Javi blows out his cheeks. “I don’t know, Mari. Your dad doesn’t seem to be my biggest fan.”

“My dad isn’t anyone’s biggest fan. He’s like that with everyone, even me.”

“That’s…concerning.”

“It’s really not. Just smile and eat the most expensive steak on the menu.”

“Sure, that’ll stick it to him,” he mutters.

I roll my eyes. “Anyway, tomorrow I thought we could grab breakfast at my favorite diner and then head out to the Santa Monica Pier. Also, don’t kill me, but a law school friend is throwing a party, and I told her we’d swing by.

The one wrinkle is that I have a study group early Sunday morning, so I can’t take you to the airport, but I’ll arrange a Lyft. Hope that’s okay.”

“It’s all good, Mari,” he says, his eyes shining with affection. “I’m here to hang out with you. Whatever we do is fine with me. Except for the dad part.”

We jostle each other as we stroll through the airport, generally making a nuisance of ourselves and not caring one bit.

I inwardly sigh in relief. You never know with Javi.

If he doesn’t want to deal with people, he simply won’t, but he’s being a good sport about it, so I’m going to be extra careful not to deplete his sociability reserves this weekend.

Walking arm in arm, we head outside. “I sprang for parking in the terminal. Because you’re special.”

Javi laughs. “I’m honored.”

“You should be.”

He takes my words at face value, missing—or intentionally ignoring—my deeper meaning.

When we get to my car, Javi gapes at me. “A Beetle?”

I laugh. “Daddy dearest wanted to get me a BMW for graduation. I just wanted something to get me from point A to point B. This was the compromise.”

“I can’t believe you said all that with a straight face.” He gestures at the passenger side. “Where am I supposed to go in this tiny-ass car?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll fit.”

He narrows his eyes, and I give him a wink. Oh, this weekend is going to be fun.

On the ride to my apartment, Javi and I fall back into our usual pattern.

That is to say, I pepper him with questions, squeezing out the answers by circling back as many times as necessary to the topics he wants to avoid.

Something’s off, though. I mean, Javi’s never been an open book, but this book is glued shut and double-wrapped in cellophane. “How’s work?”

He grimaces and stares out the window. “Next subject, please.”

“Okay, but your boss sounds like an ass,” I say. “Just because someone’s stressed doesn’t mean they get to take it out on everyone.”

He shifts in his seat. “Let’s not talk about my job, okay? I want to have a good time with you this weekend. Talking about work is just going to put me in a foul mood.”

“All right. Well, how’s the musical coming along, then?”

He shrugs. “It’s going, I guess. I work on it here and there. But I’m hoping to get more done now that…” He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Now that what?” I ask.

Javi opens his eyes. “Now that I have a better handle on the themes I’m trying to convey.”

“I’m happy to hear it’s coming together. Can’t wait to watch it in a theater one day.”

He smiles, but I get the feeling it isn’t genuine. What is going on with him?

“Speaking of theater,” he says, perking up a bit, “a patient told me I have a face for acting. Asked if I ever thought about doing commercials.”

“Was this person hitting on you?” I ask on a laugh.

“I don’t think so,” he says, his brow furrowed. “I mean, she gave me a card and everything. She’s a casting agent. Seemed legit.”

“Well, she’s right, but would you want to do that? I picture you as a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.”

“True, but if it pays the bills, I’d get over my stage fright real fast.”

“Then you should go for it. In fact, this could be your foot in the door to making connections with people who might have pull on Broadway. Entertainment circles are really small. At least that’s what my dad always says.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but Broadway’s aiming too high.”

“When it comes to you, there’s no such thing. If Broadway’s what you want, then Broadway’s what you’ll get.”

He chuckles. “Damn, Mari, you really are great for my ego.”

I’m not stroking his ego, though; I truly mean every word.

I wish Javi could see himself the way I do.

He’s thoughtful and creative and one of the smartest men I know.

There isn’t anything he couldn’t do if he put his mind to it.

But sometimes that mind is riddled with self-doubt and throws him off track.

My little pep talk seems to have made a difference, because the conversation flows more smoothly after that.

I ask about his parents and his brothers.

As usual, his parents are great, and his brothers are grating on his nerves.

Javi complains that because Manny and Leandro paid for the house he lives in, they think they should also have a say about what he does in it.

“You could move out,” I suggest.

“That’s easier said than paid for.”

“Point taken. Well, look, you can continue to work the nine-to-five with…what’s the name you call your boss?”

“Comemierda.”