Chapter 11

11

"You two need to meet me at Nadia's. Ahora." These are the last words Amá tells me and Carter as she turns away toward her car, her heels clicking on the pavement.

I turn to Carter as he walks me to my car. "You don't have to."

"Of course I do. I'm family now, remember?" He angles a grin at me, one I would almost call giddy. He must be trying to make up for being so visibly disgusted with touching me. "Besides, you know Amá Sonya scares me."

"She's probably going to lecture us about making more money and not doing anything to embarrass her." If I were a hopeful woman, I would think she wanted to talk to Carter to threaten his livelihood if he broke my heart, et cetera, et cetera. But let's face it. This is Amá. The most important things in her life are her wealth and reputation.

"Remember, I spent my childhood living down the street from y'all Flores women. I think I can handle myself." He winks as he pulls open my car door, his eyes bright and twinkling.

I hate the way my stomach feels right now. Like a small bloom of lightning has replaced my nervous system. "If you say so. See you there." I manage a small smile, which for some reason makes Carter's beam fall just a bit.

I don't understand this man. But I guess I don't have to. It's a fake-ass marriage. There's no reason for me to analyze any of my interactions with Carter, whether they make sense or not.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," I say when I pull up to Nadia's.

The driveway is overflowing with vehicles, half of which I don't recognize. Iridescent white balloons are tied to the mailbox, attached to a hand-painted sign that says,

Carter and Teal!

Newlyweds!

Just Married!

Soulmates!

That's all that can really fit on the sign, but under everything, in a scrawl that looks suspiciously like Sky's handwriting, is the added word of LOVERS!

I get out of my car, and the scent of tamales and flan and enchiladas hits me, right on top of the distant bass of "Suavemente" by Elvis Crespo.

What I wanted to do after getting married today was get in my room and pack, with nothing for company but a cheap bottle of corner-store wine and leftover angel food cake Nadia brought home from some church function. Not this—having to fake being in love in front of all my relatives with a man who can barely stand to touch me.

They're going to make us kiss. They're going to stomp their feet and raise their glasses and make us kiss, like, the entire fiesta.

My face is in my hands when something solid and warm grips my shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

I look up at Carter. The line is back between his eyebrows, and he looks over me, presumably to check for injuries. But I can't help but notice—or imagine, probably—the way his gaze becomes as slow as molasses when it skirts over my hips, my breasts, my lips.

I close my eyes briefly. "It's fine. I wasn't expecting this." I gesture to the house.

"You didn't think your family was going to use our wedding as an excuse to drink and eat and dance?"

I shake my head and smile. He's right. I should've marked it in my calendar. The family gets together for everything, from baptisms to First Communions to someone getting a new puppy. Everything except Nadia's birthday. But that's just because Nadia likes her birthday to only be us—me and my sisters and her.

"You good?" Carter asks me, pulling my hand away from my face.

I look up at the sky. It's so weird how sometimes I don't really know what I'm feeling unless I examine the weather. I can't ever lie to myself about my emotions—there's always the big, fat truth of it surrounding me, inescapable.

Right now we are surrounded by big, rabbit-tail clouds, overlaid against the blue sky like layers of buttercream icing.

I glance back at Carter. "Yeah. I'm good."

He wraps my hand around the crook of his arm, and my fingers settle over his biceps. "Vamos a celebrar."

We make it inside, where there are people crowded in the kitchen and living room so tightly, they don't even notice us at first. Then my cousin Gus spots me, then Carter, and screams, "She's here!"

Everyone cheers, with a chorus of Surprise! weaving in and out of the noise.

I blink, and my sisters are there, each one grabbing an arm. "You hate this, don't you?" Sage says in a low voice. There's no reason for her to try to be quiet, though. She could shout all kinds of curse words in three different languages and I doubt anyone but Amá would hear her, and even that would only be because Amá lives to find reasons to be disgusted with our lack of propriety.

"Don't you?" I ask.

Sage laughs. "Didn't you wonder why I'm having a teeny tiny wedding? More than half these assholes aren't invited."

"They're going to be there anyway. Mark my words."

As Sage shudders, Sky says, "Well, I don't mind."

"That's because everyone adores you. Well, except for Amá, but she doesn't like anyone," Sage responds.

Sky's silent as Sage pulls us to the staircase. I think a lot of her enjoyment of being here, now, surrounded by family, is because everyone here believes her. They know about the old gods, even if only through the stories by long-gone elders. They don't look at her like a liar or a freak. They see her as she is—blessed and beloved and beautiful.

"Where are you doing?" Nadia shouts.

"Sister stuff," Sage responds. "We'll be back down in just five minutes!"

I furrow my brow. "Seriously, what are we doing? I don't know what sister stuff means," I say as we climb to the second floor, straight toward my room. Well, my old room, now.

Sage pushes the door open, and in the middle of my bed are a few presents, each covered with what looks like artisan wrapping paper—olive green with shimmery gold foil, brown packing paper dusted with fine glitter.

I hesitate in reaching for them. "Is this for me?"

"Of course!" Sky clasps her hands together. "Open them!"

I start with the smallest box and gasp when I get it open. Nestled in a black box is a wedding band, constructed of yellow gold carved into a series of twisting, spiraling curls and clouds. I turn it over in my hand and spot, within the swirls, the tiniest sun and eyelash-moon etched on opposite sides.

"Porque tu regalo es el clima," Sage explains. "Plus it should fit under your engagement ring perfectly. I threatened Carter for the measurements."

"You made this?" I ask, even though we both already know the answer to the question.

Sage doesn't bother responding. She holds out her hand and removes my engagement ring, placing the band first, then returning the giant Princess Di sapphire. It fits perfectly.

Tears sting at my eyes. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't cry! Open mine next!" Sky pushes the remaining presents toward me.

I rip the beautiful wrapping paper to shreds, open the box, and pull out…

"Lingerie." I try to make my incredulity sound sarcastic, rather than weirdly embarrassed, as I lift a black lace bodysuit with material strategically removed from the crotch and bust.

"Come on," Sky says. "Even if the marriage isn't…you know, real or whatever. You still should have fun with Carter, right? He's so handsome. He's got really nice legs."

I narrow my eyes at her. "When did you see his legs?"

"Jealous already?" Sage laughs. "Open the rest of them."

I pull out a sheer red teddy, an emerald green nightgown, and the tiniest red bikini I've ever seen. The scraps of fabric for the nipples and vag wouldn't cover a quarter. "I may as well put on some floss. The coverage would be the same."

Sky and Sage laugh. "I have a similar one." Sage raises an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure it's what got me pregnant. When Tenn saw me…" Her cheeks pinken. "Well, let's just say he didn't even take the time to get it off me."

"Because there's nothing to take off!" I yelp, lifting the three pieces of string.

I joke with my sisters some more, and then I thank them both with big hugs. It makes me happy to spend time with them. For too long, we were separate and sad and lonely. Getting them back in my life is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

And yet, when I glance out the window as we go to return to the party, the sky isn't as bright as I wish it were. The clouds are turning into a cold, light gray. And I know exactly what thoughts in the back of my mind are causing it.

Carter won't ever see me in this or any other lingerie. I won't be able to surprise him, to turn him on so thoroughly that he wouldn't even be bothered to take the pieces of lace and string off me before railing me into the next week.

I hear my ex's voice in my head. No one else would ever want you.

Even if somehow Carter realized he did find me attractive, and slept with me, he still wouldn't want me . The girl whose mother broke her beyond repair. The girl who can drown a whole city in a matter of weeks. The girl who struggled with depression and mania at the same time, and on top of those, a bad, quick temper.

My sisters think Carter has loved me since we were children. But if that's true…not even he wants me anymore. I can't help but think that Johnny's words—the things he used to hiss when he gripped me and shoved me around—might be just the tiniest bit true.

Thunder rumbles in the distance and I sigh. Pasting a smile on my face, I return to the party, where everyone demands that Carter and I kiss and kiss and kiss. I make sure the kisses are quick, mostly on the side of his wide, pink mouth, even when my family yells things like "What kind of a kiss is that?"

Carter goes from smiling big to staring at me closely to even outright frowning. It doesn't help when lightning keeps rivering across the sky. It's distant, but it doesn't escape his notice. "You okay?" he mutters near my ear as my relatives force us to dance our first dance as husband and wife. Someone—I don't know who—chose "Nunca es Suficiente" by the Los ángeles Azules as our song.

"Kiss!" someone shouts again, rapping their fork against a champagne glass.

I can't look Carter in the eye, so I lean toward his neck. "Just a little overwhelmed," I whisper near his ear. Then I kiss the space between his ear and jaw, as light as I can, so everyone around me can stop chanting kiss, kiss, kiss for the next thirty fucking seconds.

He tenses so abruptly that he freezes midstep. "Sorry, sorry," he says as I nearly trip. But he lets go of me, even though our song isn't over yet, and says, "Gotta run to the bathroom." And he doesn't mean it figuratively. I mean, he runs away from me, disappearing in the hallway under the staircase.

As I watch him go, the clouds outside burst. The rain over the roof and against the windows dulls the sound of the music, of the people surrounding me eating their tamales and flan and sipping their café con leche.

Even though I'd suspected it for a while now, I feel like my fear has now been confirmed.

The man I have married doesn't just not want me. He can't stand me. He can't stand me so much, I question whether reviving our childhood friendship is even possible.

"Everything good?" Sky asks as she approaches, handing me a glass of what I hope is something very, very strong.

I throw it back without even asking what it is. It burns and I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. "It doesn't matter," I finally respond.

Because it doesn't. This is just an arrangement. Carter wants his money. I wanted him to be my best friend again, but since that isn't going to work—me getting a PI to find my mom and finally fix me will have to do.