Page 41 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Eight Months Before the Wedding

Mari’s been in the bathroom awhile, and I can’t help wondering if she’s in there just staring at her reflection in the mirror and shaking her head.

That’s what I would do.

When she reappears, fully dressed, refreshed, and as beautiful as ever, she puffs out a short breath. “There’s something about this”—Mari waves a hand between our bodies—“about us, together, that isn’t right.”

An ache settles in the pit of my stomach. “What do you mean?”

She dips her chin. “I don’t know that I even know what I mean, but it’s as if we don’t know what we are to each other. It’s all murky and messy. As if we’re doing this all wrong. I mean, look at us, Javi. I had a date earlier, and we just had sex against a door. What the fuck?”

She isn’t wrong, but I don’t know what to say or do about it. It’s hard to move toward something if you don’t know how to get there. I’m…stuck.

“We said we’d always prioritize our friendship,” she says. “What we’re doing isn’t that. So what happened just now makes no sense. It’s chemistry. Pheromones. Maybe a little frustration. But it isn’t growing.” She hesitates.

“Say it,” I urge her.

“I don’t think we’re growing as people either. Isn’t that what this is all about? What life is about?”

I cross my arms over my chest. Widen my stance. “So I’m holding you back?”

“Or I’m holding you back,” she says, her eyes glistening.

“I’m not following,” I say with an edge to my voice I’m unable to suppress.

She peers at me for a long moment. It’s an uncomfortable silence. One in which she’s plainly weighing her words. Eventually, she asks, “Why didn’t you accept Jeremy’s offer?”

“What?”

I’m not being deliberately obtuse; I’m genuinely confused. Seconds ago, we were talking about our convoluted friendship. Which…fair. And now she’s talking about Jeremy?

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Javi. You know exactly what I’m talking about. He’s offering to back the musical. Why wouldn’t you immediately say yes?”

“Because Jeremy’s just throwing money my way. He doesn’t give a shit about the musical.”

“Yeah, but he cares about you , he’s investing in you , so who the hell cares if he gives a shit about the musical? Accept the help and make your dreams come true.”

“It’s not that simple. Money comes with strings.”

“Yeah, that kind of money usually does. Is he asking you to sign something? Because I could take a look at—”

“No, there’s no contract.”

“What’s he asking for in return, then?”

“To be kept in the loop. Regular updates—so far.”

She throws a hand on her chest and gasps. “The nerve of the guy!”

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. Now close your mouth so you don’t use up any more of that sarcasm.”

“My supply is endless.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and then her eyes widen, as if she’s had some kind of epiphany. “You’re scared.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re worried you’ll fail.”

“Everyone worries they’ll fail.”

“Yes, most of us do. But we also don’t let those worries get in the way of our goals.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then why are you always”—she makes air quotes—“working on the musical? As if it’s a literal job title. I’ll tell you why. Because as long as you’re working on the musical, you don’t have to be the guy who wrote a musical that flopped.”

I scoff. “I’m just a guy who acts and bartends.”

“And who’s writing a musical that will one day be onstage,” she says, her voice rising. “And I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t call you out on this limbo you seem to be in. If I didn’t push.”

“But what if I’ll always be just a guy who acts and bartends?”

She lifts my chin and stares up at me. “You’ll never be just anything, Javi. Not to me anyway.”

“You’re biased.”

“I am. I’m not afraid to admit it.” She leans into me. “Do you want to be the guy who acts and bartends?”

“No, I want to be the guy who wrote a musical that made it to off-Broadway.”

“Broadway.”

“Let’s not push it.”

“Whatever. So what’s stopping you?”

“Me?”

“Exactly. So tell yourself to get out of the fucking way.”

I thought I understood all of the facets of my love for Mari, but this moment has sparked the kind of love I feel down to my very soul.

This woman owns me. And it’s not that I don’t want to be with her.

Or to try. It’s exactly the opposite. But I’m not in a place where doing so would be wise.

I’m a mess. I’m a work in progress. Mari’s anything but.

And I know how power imbalances work. My brothers have taught me that lesson over and over again.

How the person with the upper hand either uses it to their advantage or feels taken advantage of.

I doubt Mari would fall in the first camp, but she’d definitely fall in the second.

I suspect that’s exactly why she’s so invested in my future.

Because Javi the bit actor and bartender is okay as a friend, but Javi the creator of a Broadway musical—and it’s always Broadway, never off-Broadway—would be a better match for her.

Plus, there’s a snag that could unravel our whole relationship: her dad.

Talk about a power imbalance. He’s convinced Mari that he did her a favor by letting her remain in America with him while her mother returned to Brazil.

Every move she makes is aimed at ensuring he doesn’t regret the purported sacrifice.

But we can’t have that conversation. Because she needs her dad’s approval.

So I have to work around him. Or do what Mari does: seek his acceptance, which he’ll never give me.

“Anyway,” she says softly. “This can’t happen again.”

“Okay, fine, whatever you want. I get it.”

“We’re friends, Javi,” she says with more urgency. “Let’s keep it that way.”

I want to ask Mari to wait for me. To give me a chance to get myself together.

To give me the space to make the changes necessary to be worthy of her.

But that wouldn’t be fair to anyone, so I remain quiet.

In my head, though, I’m planning my next steps.

I’m going to finish that damn musical. I’m going to get my own place.

I’m going to tell my brothers to go fuck themselves.

Okay, so maybe I won’t do that. But I’ll consider a therapist. Someone who can help me work through the baggage I carry around like an anchor.

And then Mari and I will finally be equals.

And then I’ll fall at Mari’s feet. And then her father will be forced to accept me.

In the meantime, I’ll be the best damn friend she’s ever had.

I hope that’s enough.