Page 51 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Now

I don’t know much, but I know Alex is a dick.

He’s regaling everyone with a fictitious account of my skydiving exploits, and I’ve never seen him so animated.

“So, we’re just about to jump,” he tells us, his eyes eerily bright and his wine sloshing in its glass, “and Javi grabs onto the plane’s doorframe as if his life depends on it.”

Okay, sure, that part’s true. He’s still a dick, though.

Most of his relatives are eating up the entertainment, laughing boisterously no matter what he says.

It’s clear to me, and probably to anyone else with a smidgen of insight into family dynamics, that he’s their golden child and his two sisters are the castoffs.

Danila and Mirna do nothing but whisper to each other, their disdain for everyone around them affixed to their faces like permanent makeup.

Worse, Mirna has the longest fingernails I’ve ever seen on a person not seeking to hold a Guinness World Record.

It’s decided: I’m putting them in the script somehow.

Mari clears her throat and takes a deep breath. “Senora Cordero, are you enjoying your first visit to California?”

Alex’s mother covers her mouth with a linen napkin as she finishes chewing. When she’s done, she says, “Yes, it’s very nice.”

We wait for her to say more, but she looks back down at her plate and eats another forkful of feijoada. I mean, I get it. These black beans are delicious; every time I discover a hunk of meat hidden in the sauce I mentally high-five myself.

Alex takes his mother’s silence as an opportunity to continue speaking. “Marisol, get this.” He throws his arm over the back of her chair. “Your friend here tried to point out your flaws, but I told him you were perfect.”

Shit, that’s true too. He’s probably still pissed about Chocolicious, but this isn’t going to end well—for him.

“Oh, really,” Mari says, giving me a smirk to go along with her scorching side-eye. “And what flaws are those?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Alex says, tapping his chin with his index finger.

“One was that you always leave toast crumbs in the margarine tub. Another is how you stand in front of the refrigerator grazing until you’ve had an entire meal.

And apparently he can’t stand all those black-and-white classics you love so much.

I told him Citizen Kane happens to be my favorite. ”

Mari presses her lips together and heaves a deep sigh.

We exchange a glance, and then she says: “ Citizen Kane is a directorial masterpiece, but I couldn’t sit through it.

And I don’t leave crumbs in the margarine tub; Javi does.

He’s the one who stands in front of the refrigerator like he’s a bouncer stopping people from getting into a club.

I used to complain about it all the time.

” She turns to Alex. “I hate black-and-white movies, and the only reason I know this is because when we were at Belmont, Javi used to drag me to the theater in town to watch them.” She jumps to her feet.

“I need to use the restroom. Excuse me.”

The rest of the group sits in stunned silence.

Chloe, who was probably a diplomat in another life, leans forward and settles her gaze on Mari’s father. “Luiz, what’s the most ridiculous legal matter you’ve ever worked on? I’m sure you have a great story.”

Luiz, always ready to seize any moment as his own, blessedly appears to recognize the need to defuse the situation. “Ah, there have been quite a few, Chloe. You know, I once had a client who refused to work on any movie set that used artificial turf. Something to do with…”

To my right, Sasha pretends to snore.

To my left, Alex leans over Mari’s empty chair and whispers, “You played me.”

“You played yourself,” I whisper back. “You didn’t have to bring up any of that stuff. Instead, you tried to make me look bad and only ended up proving how little you know about her.”

A muscle in his jaw tics. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Sasha sets her elbows on the table and glares at us both. “Be quiet, you two. She’s coming back.”

We both straighten in our seats, and Mari sits down, her face damp, as though she splashed it with water.

I didn’t intend to share any of my and Alex’s earlier conversation with Mari; it was simply a part of my own due diligence.

But now that it’s out, Mari’s hurt by its implications, and for that, I regret the silly mind game I played.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She gives me a weak smile, her eyes vacant. “Everything’s fine.”

Across the table, Chloe blows out her cheeks. I understand where she’s coming from; listening to Luiz is exhausting. Her gaze bounces around until it settles on me. “Javi, tell us about this musical you have in the works.”

I wipe my mouth and drop the napkin onto my lap.

This I can handle. And the more I work on it, the more confident I am talking about it.

“The tentative title is The Mailroom . It’s about a group of mailroom workers who discover that their company is looking to promote from the inside and wants to choose a candidate from the mailroom.

The discovery leads the employees to think about their dreams, what’s caused them to be stagnant, what they hope for their futures—”

“So it’s autobiographical,” Alex says, faking a smile. Mari scowls at him, and he throws up his hands. “Aww, c’mon, I’m just kidding.”

I relax my face, flattening my expression to signal that I’m completely unbothered, and then I continue: “It’s about the inevitability of failure, the power of reinventing ourselves, the importance of knowing our self-worth, and the consequences of the choices we make.

So, yeah, I suppose it is somewhat autobiographical. And aspirational.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” Chloe says.

“Me too,” Brittany and Sasha say in unison.

I stare at Mari, willing her to look at me, but she’s fixed her sights on a spot beyond her father’s shoulder. Chloe’s less subtle about it; she waves both hands at her friend and barks out, “Hey, you okay over there?”

Mari’s head snaps back. “What? Sure. Of course. Just…a little distracted.” Using her hands, she mimics an explosion around her head. “There’s a lot going on in my brain.”

Alex places his hand over hers and whispers into her ear.

I wish he’d disappear, which is laughable.

Not only does he have every right to be here, but he’s also half the reason why we’re gathered in the first place.

He’s the fiancé. The future husband. This is just as much his rehearsal dinner as it is Mari’s.

If there’s anyone whose presence is questionable, it’s me. Fuck, I wish I were a drinker.

Mari slowly rises to her feet and picks up her champagne flute. Alex follows suit.

She takes a deep breath and curves her mouth into a wide smile.

She’s positively beaming. How she isn’t suffering an injury from all that whiplash is a mystery.

“Alex and I want to thank you for being here and for your continued support as we embark on this next phase of our lives together. We’re excited to see what the future holds for us, and we’re so delighted to be starting the journey with all of you.

” She raises her glass. “To weddings and new beginnings.”

A round of hear-hears and cheers ensues as everyone clinks glasses. Alex’s sisters are noticeably subdued, but that might be because Mirna can barely wrap her long-ass fingernails around the champagne flute, and Danila looks to her sister for any behavioral cues.

Mari’s gaze roams over the faces around the table and eventually lands on me. There’s a question in my eyes, one I know she’s not going to answer.

She toasted to weddings and new beginnings. What about toasting to love?