Page 53 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Javi

Now

Where has nonalcoholic wine been all my life?

“It’s good, yeah?” Alex asks.

I pound a closed fist against my chest and burp. “Damn good.” I look over at him, catching a sly twist of his lips that disappears as soon as he notices I’m watching him. “How’s yours?”

He raises a shoulder, appearing unruffled. “It’s fine. The chardonnay is okay, but I’m not partial to whites, myself.”

“You should talk to someone about that,” I say with a straight face.

He stares at me, his expression flat and unamused. “Because I’m a white Latino.” He rolls his eyes. “Good one, Javi.”

Well, he’s no fun.

Alex scans the area around him, then signals a server. The woman rushes over, a black tray in her hands, and they share a whispered exchange before she nods and jogs away.

It’s beautiful out here. All sunny and shit. I make a hole with my thumb and index finger and stare at the sun through it. It’s bright, so bright.

I survey the people at the table, grinning at the good vibes on display.

Everyone looks so happy. Even Alex’s sisters, Cruella and Ursula, seem to be enjoying themselves.

Mari looks beautiful too. All sun-kissed shoulders and big, fluffy hair.

Fuck, it’s hot. I unbutton the top two buttons of my half-sleeve.

I wonder what Chocolicious is doing right now?

That little shit is needy as hell, but I’m keeping him forever.

God, that moment when I first picked him up at the shelter and he snuggled against my neck and fell asleep?

So damn cute. Are there bees out here? Wow, that’s a pretty butterfly.

“Javi!”

I shake my head and look around. “Yeah?”

“Here’s another flight,” Alex says, placing a tray in front of me. “Figured since we’ll be visiting the vineyards next, you might want to get your fill of the nonalcoholic stuff now.”

We bump fists. “Thanks for looking out, man.”

A line appears between his eyebrows. “Looking out where?”

I blink a few times. Is he…? “Never mind.” I down the first glass.

The guy running the tasting—what the hell was his name? It reminded me of the Little Mermaid: Flounder? Scuttle? Sebastian!—whistles to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, friends, gather whatever belongings you have and follow me out front. We’re going on a joyride!”

“Yippee!” I say, throwing back the last of the three glasses as I rise from my chair.

Mari materializes out of thin air.

I jump back and wobble on my feet. “Shit, you scared me!”

“Are you okay?” she asks, inspecting my face.

“I’m fine.” I motion her over. “I’m just high on life.”

Her face clears. “Oh, goodness, you are such a mess.” She links her arm with mine and pulls me along. “C’mon, it’s time to get on the bus.”

“Okay!”

Damn, I need to concentrate really hard right now because the cobblestones on this path seem to be moving.

Mari tells me to “wait here,” and when I look up, I rock on my heels. “It’s a party bus!”

We climb on and I grab onto the pole, opting to stand while everyone else sits. Unfortunately, the music sucks. Still, I move my hips to whatever song is playing because I’m so keyed up.

In front of me, Alex’s cousin, Joel, taps his father on the arm a few times and points at me. “?Mira, está perreando el poste!”

“I am not grinding on the pole!” I shout.

Everyone stops talking and stares at me.

I gulp, then make the shape of a gun with my fingers and point it in the air. “Just a joke between friends. Pew, pew, pew.”

Mari pulls me down into the seat next to her. “I told you to behave.”

“I’m really hot,” I say, fanning myself.

Mari turns to Alex, who’s sitting on the other side of her. Their heads are together, and she’s scowling at him while he’s shrugging his shoulders. Hmm, what’s going on there?

Oh, we’re here already?

I climb off the bus and rest my hands on my waist, stretching my hip flexors. It’s gorgeous out here. Like a Monet painting.

Our tour guide motions for us to form a circle.

I raise my hand. “Scuttle—”

He chuckles. “It’s Sebastian.”

“Shit, right,” I say, smacking my forehead. “Sebastian, are these vineyards sustaichable?”

“Do you mean sustainable?”

I drop my head and point a finger to the sky. “Exactly that.”

“I’m glad you asked,” he says, “and the answer is yes. We use organic and sustainable farming methods to grow and cultivate our wines.” He points to a section of the vineyard and motions for everyone to follow. “Over here, you’ll see…”

I dip between the rows and rows of grapevines, wanting to explore the vineyard on my own.

It’s so peaceful here. And hot. Really fucking hot.

I take off my short-sleeve (good thing I wore a rib tank underneath), trip over a small mound of dirt, and wrap my shirt around my neck like a scarf.

Ah, much better. Are these grapes ripe? Is that when they’re plucked?

Harvested? Whatever the hell it’s called?

My head spins. Shit. I think I’m drunk. But I didn’t have any alcohol, so how the hell is that even possible?

“What are you doing in there?” someone cries. “And why aren’t you wearing your shirt?”

I look up, taking a few seconds to clear my brain and focus on the person’s face. “There she is. The most beautiful girl in the world.”

“You’re drunk,” Mari says, frowning. “How is that possible?”

“I was asking myself the same thing. Great minds…”

“They must have given you the wrong wine,” she says, shaking her head.

I shrug. “Don’t know.” I walk up to her and throw my arms around her shoulders. “But I do know that I love you.”

“I love you too, Javi,” she says absently. Then she bites her lip as if she’s trying to figure something out.

“No, Mari. I love you, love you.”

She takes in a sharp breath and looks away. “What a mess.” After a few seconds of silence, she wraps one of her arms around my waist. “Let’s get you back on the bus.”

“Okay,” I say, yawning. “I could use a nap.”

“And I could use a reset button,” she mutters.

I want to ask her what she means, but I’m too tired to form the words.

Alex encounters us on the way, and I use all of my remaining strength to jump behind Mari. “You did this to me,” I say, using Mari as a shield.

He grimaces. “I did no such thing. It was a snafu.”

Mari gives him a sidelong glance. “There’s been a lot of those this weekend.”

“Princesa, he’s trying to cause trouble,” Alex pleads, his expression uncharacteristically flustered.

“Let’s just get him to the cottage,” she says solemnly.

I want to plead my case too, but my brain isn’t cooperating. Not that it would do any good. After all, I told her I loved her, and she didn’t even care.