Page 57 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Now

With my leaky eyes downcast, I bolt to my bridal suite, a million thoughts crashing around in my brain like bumper cars.

When I get there, I shut myself inside and lean against the door.

I gulp in several breaths as I survey the room.

The space, decorated in celebration of the impending nuptials, mocks me at every turn.

Sparkling-clean champagne glasses sit atop a gleaming silver tray.

A vibrant basket of fruit covered in clear cellophane rests on the counter.

My wedding dress, still in its double-lined garment bag, hangs from the wardrobe.

All this pomp and circumstance. It’s the icing on an underbaked cake.

The glitter on a fast fashion outfit. A catchy tune sung by an off-key singer.

Surface with no depth. If I’m being honest, I knew it from the outset.

And still I went along with the charade because I thought it would be easier.

Go to law school, join my father at the firm, get married to a well-respected person who could further my dreams. The end.

All of this would make my father happy. All of this would align with what everyone expects of me.

All of this would prove that my father’s sacrifices were worth it.

But none of this is real. Well, except my degree—that can never be taken away from me.

Oh God, what do I do now? I’m not even sure I’ve processed everything I overheard.

At the very least, I’m not going to sit around a table with my groom’s family pretending everything’s okay.

So I shoot Alex a text. Despite my chaotic thoughts, I manage to hide my distress: Hey, sweetheart.

So sorry, but I’m not feeling well. Going to skip out on the rest of dinner. Please pass along my regrets.

He responds immediately: Don’t apologize. Tomorrow’s a big day. We’re almost done anyway. Do you need me to get you anything?

“Yeah,” I mutter to myself, “an enema so I can stick it up your ass.”

To Alex, I reply: I’m fine for now. Come see me when you’re done.

Because I need to look this man in the eye and find out what he knows. For now, I leave open the possibility that he’s just as much of a pawn in my father’s machinations as I am. But I’m steeling myself for the probability that he’s very much an accomplice in this whole sordid fiasco.

***

Someone knocks on the door, and I freeze. I’m not ready to face anyone, so I remain silent, hoping whoever’s there assumes the suite is empty and moves on.

“Mari,” a trio of voices sings. “Let us in.”

Sasha, Brittany, and Chloe are some of the most persistent people I know. There’s no point in trying to avoid them, and I’m not sure I want to.

I trudge across the room and let them in.

“There you are,” Brittany says, her hair covered with a scarf. “See? I told you she’s fine.”

Sasha, wearing a clay face mask and a fluffy robe, barges in and drops onto an armchair. “Alex texted to say you’re not feeling well. We thought it might be pre-wedding jitters.”

I scoff. “Hardly.”

Sasha’s eyes bulge. Chloe and Brittany tip their heads in my direction and wait for an explanation.

“Hang on,” I say. “I need to get out of these clothes.” As I walk to the bedroom, I unzip the sensible sheath dress that seemed perfect for dinner with my future mother-in-law but now feels all wrong. “Back in a sec.”

When I return, I’m wearing an oversize T-shirt and slouchy sweatpants.

“What’s the opposite of a glow-up?” Sasha asks.

“A dull-down,” I say before lobbing a throw pillow at her head.

She laughs, dodging it with ease.

“Tell us what’s going on,” Chloe says, bouncing her crossed leg. “Something’s not right.”

“That’s a cute short set,” I tell her.

Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you high?”

I scrunch up my face. Honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Sweetie,” Sasha says softly, “everything’s going to be all right. Talk to us.”

It’s the encouragement I needed; after that, the floodgates open. I pick at my cuticles as I recount what I overheard in the men’s bathroom, pausing to answer their clarifying questions. Sasha misses the point completely and fixates on what I was doing in the men’s room in the first place.

“Sash, focus.” I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Why is this happening?”

“This is the universe telling you that you shouldn’t marry that man,” Brittany says.

“You think?”

“I know,” she says, nodding decisively. “We all do.”

I look at all three of them. They’re staring back at me with somber expressions. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We did,” Chloe offers. “Together and separately.” She tilts her head back and forth, then adds, “Not outright, but we questioned why you were rushing to get married. Asked if you were certain. You assured us you knew what you were doing. I mean, after a certain point, we decided to trust your judgment.”

“Why don’t you think Alex is right for me?”

Sasha throws up her hands and chops them in the air. “Because. Javi’s. Right. There.”

Oh God. Javi. I’ve kept my feelings about his role in all of this in a locked box. Every time I consider unlocking it, I get overwhelmed. But Sasha’s observation is spot-on. I cover my mouth and let out a muffled sob. “He’s been here the whole time.”

My girls are staring at me, nodding vigorously.

“We’ve been circling each other for years,” I say, “but I finally resigned myself to the fact that he would never choose me, that he’d always erect roadblocks in our relationship. In his own way, though, Javi’s been choosing me from day one.”

“Hallelujah, a breakthrough,” Sasha shouts, waving both hands in the air as if she’s listening to a Sunday sermon.

I swallow and hold a hand against my chest. It’s all coming together in my head.

“In college, he chose our friendship over a relationship neither of us was ready for. And when I thought he’d abandoned me carelessly in my first year of law school, he was actually experiencing a rough patch and my father had pressured him to walk away. ”

Even now, on the eve of my wedding, Javi’s prepared to let me go because he thinks the firm is my reason for being.

And why would he think otherwise? I’ve never told him how I feel.

Never given him an inkling that I care for him as much as he apparently cares for me.

All this time, I’ve been too scared. Of rejection.

Of not being chosen. I can’t possibly marry Alex when the truth is staring me in the face.

“I love Javier,” I say, my eyes flooding with tears.

“We know,” they say in unison.

“Even if Alex isn’t aware of my father’s plans, I have to break up with him.”

Sasha leans over from her spot on the armchair and squeezes my hand. “You do.”

We all turn at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Brittany jumps up, looks through the peephole, and lets out a long breath. “It’s Alex.”

We exchange worried glances.

“This is it,” I say, lifting myself off the couch. “I know what I need to do. I’ll check in with you guys later.”

They gather their phones and key cards, then head to the door. Sasha turns back and points to a bottle of wine. “Can we take this? You won’t be needing it, right?”

I give her a flat stare. She damn well knows she shouldn’t be drinking wine.

“What about that fruit over there, then?” she says, glumly. “I can suck on the grapes and pretend it’s the good stuff.”

“The fruit’s all yours,” I say on a laugh while opening the door to usher Alex inside.

My friends slink past him without acknowledging his presence; Sasha’s the last to leave, the basket pressed against her chest and her nose in the air.

Alex raises a brow at their failure to greet him but quickly turns his attention to me. “Glad to see they checked on you. I came as fast as I could.” He wraps me in his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I say, easing out of his embrace. “But we need to talk.”

“Okay.” He ambles over to the couch, the confidence in his demeanor irking me because I highly doubt it’s warranted.

I take the armchair Sasha was sitting in and inhale the faint scent of cocoa body lotion still lingering in the air.

Alex and I simply stare at each other for several awkward beats.

He blinks first, and I smile on the inside, appreciating this small but potent reminder that I’m in control of this conversation.

“Why did you ask me out last October?”

My question hangs in the air, and Alex’s eyes go wide and unfocused. It’s a split second of panic that vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. And in that moment, I know , I absolutely know , that Alex pursued me at my father’s suggestion.

“I’ve always been interested in you, Marisol,” he says, his voice calm and controlled. “Where is this coming from, babe?”

Ugh, babe . He’s never called me that before. It’s always princesa this, sweetheart that. I’m not a fan of either endearment, but babe is a decided step down from them both. It feels fitting. As if Alex’s mask is slipping in increments as I discover more about him.

I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath. “I’m just going to say it. I heard an unfortunate conversation between my father and someone and it revealed things about us, about the reason for this marriage, about my future.”

He peers at me, his face revealing nothing. “Who’s the someone?”

I wave away the question. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, my father has some very specific ideas about the implications of our marriage.”

“Well, shouldn’t you be talking to your father, then?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I will. But in the meantime, I’m talking to you.”

He shoves a hand through his hair, then cracks his knuckles. “What do you want me to say, Marisol?”

“I want you to tell me the truth. I deserve that much. I’m going to be your wife .”

That false declaration seems to galvanize him. His eyes search my face as he recalibrates. He rises to his feet, then bends at the knee in front of me, taking my hand in his. He’s a beautiful man, but he isn’t meant for me.

“I do love you,” he says, affection glowing in his eyes.

I nod and fill in the blanks for him. “But let me guess: It’s a love founded on fondness and respect. It’s not that soul-deep love. It doesn’t upend your world.”

He swallows, sadness clouding his features. “That’s kind of the point, Marisol. I don’t want my world upended.”

“I thought I was looking for the same thing,” I admit.

“I guess I was afraid. Afraid of the kind of love that reaches the very core of you and risks destroying your soul if it’s snatched away.

I wanted a person I could rely on. Someone safe to share a life with.

Now I see I went about this the wrong way.

” I take his chin and lift it. “Where does my father fit into this?”

Alex sighs, falls back on his haunches, and returns to his spot on the couch.

“Three years or so after I joined the firm, your father took an interest in me, became my mentor. He started to make promises. That I would be his right-hand man. That I would run the firm one day. About a year ago I asked him how you would feel about that. You’re obviously a force in your own right, and I expected that you’d be a part of the firm’s future too.

He said you would understand eventually, but that the entire transition would go more smoothly if you were satisfied that the firm would always remain in the family.

He didn’t say the words outright, but the implication was unmistakable. ”

“And that’s when you asked me out.”

He has the decency to look away. “Yeah.”

It’s the confirmation I didn’t want yet sorely needed.

The indisputable proof that my father has been stringing me along for years.

I’m an unwitting participant in an arranged marriage.

Except…I’m thirty years old. I have plenty of money.

A fuckton of prospects. And I’m no damn burden to anyone.

I refuse to be frightened by an unknown future.

I suppose I should have been suspicious of Alex’s motivations, but if I’m being honest, he made his move at a time when I desperately wanted to sever my emotional connection with Javi.

The fact that Alex was my father’s protégé only made him more appealing.

Because I’ve always been that little girl who wants to show her dad that she isn’t an inconvenience, that she could add value to his life.

I’ve been so preoccupied with not accepting crumbs from the men I’ve dated that I couldn’t even recognize when I was accepting crumbs from my own father. Well, no more.

“I’m not going to marry you, Alex,” I say softly.

He lets out a slow breath, then meets my gaze. “I figured as much.”

“But I do need a favor from you.”

He throws both hands over his heart. “You’re killing me.”

I narrow my eyes and give him a sinister smile. “Consider this: If people knew the real reason we aren’t getting married, you’d end up looking much worse than you would in the narrative I’m contemplating.”

“Jesus, you’re merciless…but I’m listening.”

“Good. Here’s what I have in mind…”