Page 54 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Now

Standing behind me, Alex meets my gaze in the mirror. “Want to walk over to the restaurant early? We could grab a drink before they arrive.”

We’re having dinner with Alex’s mother and sisters tonight, and he’s uncommonly nervous about it. I’m tickled by this facet of his personality; turns out my seemingly unflappable fiancé is capable of getting his feathers ruffled.

I swipe some gloss across my lips and smile. “A drink to fortify us?”

His mouth twitches. “To loosen us up. And be warned: She’s going to ask you about babies.”

“Why would she? Other than having been one decades ago, I have no expertise on the topic.”

He points a finger at me, his bright eyes twinkling. “That,” he says on a chuckle. “Don’t do that. Just humor her. For me.”

I turn around and cup his chin. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise.” Stepping back, I add, “But I still have a few things to do, so go ahead without me and grab a drink for yourself. I’ll finish up here, then check on Javi.”

A muscle in his jaw tics, and he lets out a slow breath. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“You’re probably right,” I say, slipping on my shoes. “I still want to see him with my own eyes.”

Besides, Javi and I need to talk. Really talk. And since Alex has nothing to worry about, there’s no reason to mention that part.

Alex opens and shuts his mouth. After a beat, he plucks at the cuff of his shirt and says, “Sure. Please don’t be late, though. My mom’s pretty easygoing, but she hates to be kept waiting.”

“I’ll be there on time and ready to charm,” I say, resting a hand against his chest.

He draws me to him and presses a kiss against my forehead, then stares at me for a long moment, his eyes unblinking. After a deep breath, he walks to the door. On his way out of the cottage, he says, “See you soon, princesa.”

The endearment is meant as a reminder, and it works. I recall that he’s vowed to cherish me. That he wants to build a life with me. That he’s prepared to promise me forever. What else could I possibly ask for?

Someone knocks at the door, and I flinch. Goodness, I really need to ease up on these heavy thoughts. I swing the door open. “Did you forget—”

I look up and stop short, processing who I’m looking at. My mother’s staring back at me. She’s here . We haven’t been together for two years, not in person, not like this—not when she’s close enough to touch. I fight back tears, my knees nearly buckling as she wraps me in her arms.

“Oh, Marisol, it’s so good to see you,” she says softly.

The feel of her skin. Her sweet scent. The warmth that engulfs me.

It’s all too much. An embarrassingly loud sob escapes me.

When I finally gather the strength to speak, my voice is shaky: “I thought you were getting in late tonight. Alex and I planned to pick you up from the airport.” I look behind her. “Where’s your stuff?”

She pats my hand, a smile tugging at her lips. “Everything’s fine, filha. May I come in?”

I slap a palm against my forehead and pull her inside. “Sorry, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“The people in Atlanta were wonderful,” she says, removing her blazer.

She doesn’t do casual when she travels; if anything, she dresses up.

“I told one of the workers at the gate that I was coming here for your wedding, and he put me on an earlier flight.” She waggles her eyebrows and whispers, “A first-class seat too.”

“Ooh, fancy,” I reply with a smile. I study her face, try to figure out what’s changed. The blunt bob that ends at her chin is new. “You cut your hair!”

She leans forward, partially covers her mouth, and whispers, “It’s a wig.”

“Well, it looks great. And I’m so glad you made it.” Twisting around, I ask, “Do you need anything? Water? Bathroom? Something to eat?”

She gently places her hand on my arm and grins at me. “I don’t need anything, filha. I’m here for you. Is there anything you need from me ?”

“Being here is enough,” I reply.

Her eyes glisten. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, but thank you for saying so.”

I take in a sharp breath and exhale. Perhaps my mother needs to confront her feelings about our separation as much as I do.

Maybe we could unpack them together. But not now.

Not less than twenty-four hours before my wedding.

“We have so much to talk about, so much to catch up on, but I’m supposed to have dinner with Alex’s family. ”

She straightens and plasters on a smile.

“Don’t change your plans. The trip was exhausting.

I could use the rest.” She grimaces, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ll need my strength to deal with your father tomorrow.

But don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to see each other. I’ll be here for a week.”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “We’ll spend so much time together you’ll be sick of me.”

“Wonderful,” she says, her face brightening. Then she frowns. “But shouldn’t you be spending time with your new husband?”

I laugh. “I think I can manage both. No honeymoon, remember?”

“Oh yes, I remember,” she says, lifting her eyebrows.

“M?e,” I warn.

She pretends to zip her lips.

I look at the digital clock behind her. “Oh God, I’m going to be late if I don’t get out of here now. I need to see Javi before dinner.”

My mother’s face positively sparkles at the mention of his name. “I can’t wait to hug him for real. That boy is so fun!”

“He can’t wait to see you too.”

Minutes later, on my way to Javi’s room, a thought strikes me upside the head: My mother never expressed any excitement about seeing Alex in person for the first time. How odd.

***

Javi immediately answers the door, looking hungover and definitely worse for the wear in a tank and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. He doesn’t say a word as he motions me inside.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, wrapping my arms around my middle.

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Like shit, but I’ll survive.” He looks around him, then gestures at the couch. “Wanna sit down?”

“Sure.”

I settle in and pat the cushion. He sits next to me, stretching out his legs, then smoothing his hands on his thighs.

“What happened earlier?” I ask. “How’d you get so drunk?”

He blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I have no clue. You heard what I told Sebastian. I made it clear that I wanted no alcohol, and that obviously isn’t what happened.” He grimaces. “Was I a wreck? I don’t remember half the shit I said or did. Damn, I need to apologize to everyone.”

“You were fine. A little outlandish at times, but the group was tipsy as a whole, so you didn’t stick out or anything.”

“Thank God,” he says.

“You said some things, though. To me.”

He draws back, his eyes roving my face. “Something bad?”

“No, you said you love me.”

“That’s nothing new,” he says, bumping my shoulder, a smile dancing on his lips. “I do love you.”

I could leave it at that and walk away. It would be so easy to pretend I didn’t understand what he meant. But if Javi and I are going to remain in each other’s lives, we need to get this out in the open now. “No, you said you love me, love me.”

“Damn,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Drunk Javi is stupid as fuck.”

I hold my breath.

“I mean, it’s true,” he continues, running a hand over the back of his head, “but I wouldn’t have said it that way if I had been sober. That was probably Alex’s plan. To get me drunk so I could make a fool of myself.”

I exhale on a sigh. What does Javi expect me to do here?

To agree with him? To joke with him about the man I’m marrying tomorrow morning?

There is no universe in which this wedding isn’t happening.

Maybe the old Marisol would have considered it.

But the adult version knows what’s good for her.

And it’s time to tell him so. “Javi, this isn’t cute anymore. ”

He draws back. “What isn’t cute?”

“This”—I wave a hand between us—“ thing you’re doing. Trying to prove Alex isn’t right for me.”

“He isn’t—”

“No,” I say, holding up my hand. “It’s no longer your job to approve the person I decide to be with.

I gave you that privilege, and I’m withdrawing it—effective immediately.

Alex chose me. You didn’t. You never did.

Not when I wanted to date you in college.

Not when I wanted us to stay in touch after we graduated.

Not even when I wanted us to explore a relationship when we reconnected.

You always held back. You always had a reason for rejecting me.

For dumping me. And now that I’ve found someone who wants to be with me, who doesn’t view me as a burden, you’re scrambling to upend everything. ”

He stares ahead, his jaw clenched. I know he’s listening. A blink of an eye here. A deep breath and a drop of his shoulders there. I hope it’s sinking in. Javi’s one of the best men I know, but even good men can hurt the ones they claim to love.

I take his hand and squeeze it. “I am prepared to cherish you until the day I die, but as a friend and nothing else. I’m marrying Alex tomorrow. That’s my choice, and you’re going to have to live with it. Can you do that?”

A tear slips down his cheek, and he angrily swipes it away. “Of course. I can do whatever you need. But can I say one thing?”

“Sure.”

He meets my eyes, his gaze piercing mine.

“I never, and I mean never , considered you a burden. I was always worried I’d be a burden to you .

Not that it’s some big revelation or anything.

I mean, look at you. And well, look at me.

Or how I used to be. But yeah”—he shrugs—“I just think it’s important for you to know that. It’s important to our friendship.”

I lean into him. As usual, he knows exactly what to say.

“Thanks for saying that. It means the world. And it explains a lot. You thought I would only love you if you reached some pinnacle of success, but I always loved you for who you are. Still do.” I rise and put out my hand; he takes it, and I pull him to standing.

“I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine, right? ”

He draws me into his arms. “Para siempre.”

I close my eyes as he presses his lips to my temple. “Para sempre.”

He walks me to the door, where I turn to him. “Make sure you get something to eat. I hear the restaurant in the main building serves a killer steak.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, opening the door and leaning on the frame.

“See you tomorrow,” I say softly.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, a tremor in his voice.

But I ignore it. I have to. Because it’s time to get to know my future mother-in-law.

***

I need to pee before I return to this dinner, but the line for the ladies’ room is two miles deep, the guests from tonight’s wedding standing single file, their bodies packed in a row like sardines.

Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know Alex’s family very well, but his mother seems to be overly concerned with social niceties, so if I’m not back at the table within minutes, she’ll probably think I’m blowing her off.

This dinner has certainly been enlightening, though.

Mirna and Danila’s apparent animosity isn’t even about me; they’re upset with the situation—namely, their mother told them not to be in the wedding party because she worried they would steal the spotlight from Alex.

I’m flabbergasted but also tossing that revelation in the “problems for another day” bin.

At the moment, the most pressing problem is my bladder.

A man exits the men’s room, his fingers still fiddling with his zipper.

First of all, gross. Second of all, score.

There’s no good reason I shouldn’t be able to use either restroom; this venue should know better by now.

I make a mental note to tell them so, then push the swinging door open and listen for any hint that someone’s in here.

I certainly don’t want to surprise anyone—or be surprised myself.

A toilet flushes. Dammit. But then I hear voices, both of them familiar, both of them agitated.

And my stomach drops, because I have a sinking feeling that I’m not going to like what I’m about to discover.