Chapter Twenty-Two
What an idiot I had been.
A big, dumb, foolish idiot.
Earlier that morning, when my alarm had gone off a little after dawn and I had slipped out of Aaron’s warm embrace quietly—but not panic-ridden—I had immediately regretted agreeing to meet my sister hours before the wedding. So, once I got everything packed and was ready to go, right before sneaking out the door without waking him up—even though I had learned by then that he, too, slept like the dead—I leaned very silently and brushed a soft kiss against his jaw. Because I didn’t want to go, not really, and I was a weak, weak woman when it came to him.
Just in case, I left Aaron a note, telling him that I’d see him in a few hours because I’d be getting ready with Isabel. Charo would be driving him to the wedding venue.
Be strong and don’t succumb, I wrote down.
Then, I signed it with, With love, Lina.
My choice of words had my heart skipping a beat, but I promised myself it wasn’t a big deal and left it there.
Not more than an hour after leaving the apartment, I started to miss him—like properly brooding and sighing and wondering what he was doing—so I texted him.
Lina: Did you get my note?
To which, he replied no more than a couple of minutes later.
Aaron: Yes, I’m hiding in the bathroom. Charo was trying to sneak a photo of me with her phone. Martíns are relentless creatures.
That had me snorting so hard that the makeup artist ended up brushing eye shadow all across my forehead. She tried to play it cool, but I could tell she was pissed.
But none of that was the reason why I was pretty sure I was a big, dumb, foolish idiot.
Somehow, somewhere between slipping into my velvety fawn heels and the graceful, airy burgundy gown I was wearing, my head had started spinning questions. Important ones. Will I be able to find Aaron in the crowd? And also: Will he be okay? Will he get to the venue and find his seat? And the star of the show: Maybe I won’t see him until after the ceremony. What if I can’t find him?
So, when I came to my place to the right of the bride, on a glorious summer day, surrounded by arrangements of peonies in all shades of baby pink and pearly white, in front of the people who had seen us grow and turn into the women we were today, my head turned.
My gaze effortlessly zeroed in on a pair of ocean-blue eyes.
And all those questions immediately died out.
What a big, dumb, foolish idiot I had been to even question that my eyes wouldn’t be drawn to Aaron Blackford in a matter of seconds. How in the world could they not?
He was dazzling, standing under the sun in a navy-blue suit. And when he smiled, that wide and furtive grin that I was beginning to think was only for me, I swore he could have blinded me if I hadn’t blinked. That smile—Aaron’s smile, his handsome face, him completely and entirely—made my knees weak and my chest tight.
That was exactly why, once the ceremony ended and Gonzalo made a show out of eating Isabel’s face right then and there for everybody attending to see, I turned around on shaky legs. The crowd proceeded to throw rice and confetti as the bride and groom made their way down the aisle, and by the time they were jumping inside a yellow Volkswagen Beetle to drive to where they’d have a pre-dinner photo shoot, everybody started shuffling to the restaurant area. A quiet silence was left behind, except for the sound of my heart, which was trying to stumble right out of my throat.
Aaron waited by the exit, standing with his hands in the pockets of his navy pants and his jacket partly opened. Right where the rows of creamy chairs ended. A few tiny pieces of confetti stuck in his hair.
His gaze stayed on me as I walked down that aisle, my legs feeling like I was walking on sand. Heavy and clumsy.
Only when I reached him did he take a step toward me; it was fast and rushed, as if he had been stopping himself from running to me and couldn’t hold it in any longer.
I watched his throat work, his eyes swiping up and down and up again, eating up what was in front of them.
“You look like a dream.”
What a silly thing to tell me when it was him, the one who couldn’t be real. The one I couldn’t believe was here, making my chest full with things I didn’t understand.
I shook my head, trying to pull myself together enough to answer. “You look amazing, Aaron.”
His gaze searched my face for a brief moment, and whatever he found made him smile. Again, that grin. Only for me. What a lucky bitch I was.
Aaron offered his arm, and I struggled not to launch myself at him right then and there. “May I have the honor?” he asked slowly.
A deep belly laugh left my lips. Slowly, I took it. “Now, you are just pushing it.”
His palm fell on top of the one that was resting on the crook of his arm. “What do you mean?”
“Only romance heroes say stuff like that. And we are talking about the ones in a Jane Austen novel. Not even your run-of-the-mill romance hero would butter up a woman that much,” I explained as we moved forward, in the direction of the adjoining restaurant, where everybody else was, probably a glass of wine—or two—already in hand.
“In my book, having the most beautiful woman on my arm classifies as an honor.”
I hoped the foundation the makeup artist had had to apply for a second time covered the way my cheeks flushed. “If the bride so much as gets wind of what you are saying, you’ll be in so much trouble.” I heard his chuckle, but he didn’t retract his words. “She’ll kick you out of the wedding, and I will not be able to help you. You are too tall and big to sneak in, unnoticed.” And too damn handsome too, but I kept that part to myself.
Aaron chuckled again, the noise traveling down my spine and leaving a trail of shivers. I was finding it really hard to ignore how good his arm felt under my fingers or how right being tucked in his side was.
It was only when we were a few feet away from the open area, where all the invitees were gathered, that Aaron spoke, “It would be worth it, you know.”
My head turned, taking in his profile as he kept his gaze up front.
“For seeing you in that dress and having you enter any place on my arm, I’d endure pretty much anything.”
My lips parted, and had Aaron not been providing his support, I would have tumbled down to the floor, rolled the rest of the way, and probably stopped only when my back came against a chair or a table.
“Even your sister’s rage.”
Then, a flash went off right in our faces, snapping me out of my trance.
Blinking away the bright white spots, I got a glimpse of a camera.
“Maravilloso!” a high-pitched voice I was well acquainted with screeched. “What a beautiful couple you two make.”
My mouth snapped shut and then opened again. Not having my sight back completely, I kept blinking until a bright red mane started coming into focus. Charo.
“Oh, your babies are going to be the cutest things ever.”
I cursed under my breath and smiled tightly while Aaron seemed surprisingly unconcerned. The dumbest mental image took me by surprise. One of Aaron holding a chubby, blue-eyed baby in his large arms.
Stepping out of my cousin’s trajectory and veering for the wine, I tried to recompose myself.
“And so it begins,” I muttered under my breath. The day I had feared and dreaded for months.
Only, in that precise moment, with Aaron’s arm under my fingers and his smile aimed at me, I came to realize that what frightened me was nothing I had ever come to expect.
* * *
If I’d knownthat my sister had hired a kiss cam for the wedding reception, I would have claimed to be sick and hidden in the bathroom. Ironically, I wouldn’t have had to lie all that much. My dinner kept climbing up mythroat every single time the tune announcing the start of the most painful thirty seconds of my life reached my ears. During that time that stretched into a hellish eternity, the camera scanned the crowd seated on the round tables scattered across the lush green garden of the restaurant before coming to a stop on a couple and displaying their image—framed by a heart—on a conveniently installed projector.
Every single time the camera so much as passed over my fake date and me, my heart ceased beating before resuming at breakneck speed.
Apparently, the possibility of having my first kiss with Aaron displayed on a big screen in front of my whole family was going to give me a heart attack.
And just as if my thoughts had somehow conjured it, the tritone tune announced the start of a new round of: Will Lina die of nerves and anticipation tonight? Or will she lose her shit and commit camera murder?
“Oh, what a fun idea this was, Isabel!” my mom hollered with excitement from across the table.
My sister seemed to pride herself even more, if that was possible. “I know.” She smiled giddily. “They’ll even put all the film together, edit it, and send me a montage with all the kisses,” she explained over the relentless tune of doom.
One eye on the projector screen, I watched the camera hover on a table close by.
“I had to book an extra package for that, but it’s totally worth it.”
The camera swiped over our table, displaying Aaron’s and my faces on the screen.
My face blanched. My hand somehow jerked, dropping a fork. I dipped after it, too briskly, and almost knocked over a glass. Cursing under my breath, I picked up the fork from under the table, resurfacing just in time to see the camera moving along.
Close. That was so close.
Reaching for my wine, I actually considered sneaking out and putting an end to this. But that would be running. Being a coward. Again. Something I’d kept doing a lot of lately.
If the camera stops on you, you will kiss Aaron, I told myself as I downed the rest of my wine. A peck on the lips. It doesn’t need to be a movie kiss. Just a kiss.
But my pep talk didn’t help. It only made my chest tighter and my belly flutter.
Peeking at the man that I’d probably have to kiss in a handful of seconds, I was surprised to see a muscle in his jaw jumping. Studying him more closely, I realized Aaron looked … like New York Aaron again. Not like the relaxed and playful version I had shared these past days with. His gaze was set on the screen, and while his face gave nothing away—at least not to those who hadn’t mastered the art of reading Aaron like I had—there was something about him that told me he wasn’t as fine as he looked.
Once more, the camera glided over us, putting our faces on the screen for a tense second, and moved on.
My heart resumed.
Before I could feel any kind of relief, it came right back, as if it were performing a dance especially choreographed for me, teasing my heartbeat until sending it into cardiac arrest. Little droplets of sweat formed on the nape of my neck. Aaron remained quiet by my side, steadfast, his eyes drilled into the screen. So much that concern started seeping in.
“Whoo!” the crowd hooted as the camera cruised across our table again, the speed decreasing gradually.