I smile. “My favorite smell. Next to your cooking.”
She chuckles and pats my hand. “You always say that.”
“It’s true. I can’t live without your pansit or your adobo. Or your lumpia.”
“Well, maybe if you learned how to cook,” she teases.
I clutch my chest and make a mock offended face. “Ouch.”
“All those times you watched me cooking your favorite meals when you were growing up and nothing stuck.”
I laugh at her good-natured ribbing.
“I was more interested in reading as a kid.”
She chuckles. “Oh, I’ll never forget the piles of books on your bedroom floor. Remember how when I’d visit before moving here, your parents would let me stay in your room, and I always tripped over your books?”
“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
She pats my arm. “At least now that we live together, you keep all your books on actual bookshelves instead of the floor. I haven’t tripped over your books in years, anak. I’m so proud of you.”
I chuckle. Joking around with my aunt is exactly what I need to do to forget about what Liam did last night at the engagement party. I still can’t believe what a jerk he was. Everyone was praising him for the work he did on the engagement party and he didn’t once correct them.
I think about how Aidan and Micah raved to us both at the beginning of the party. He didn’t even try to tell them the truth: that he didn’t help with any of it, and when I confronted him about it, he just made a bunch of excuses, just like he did the night he stood me up.
Irritation simmers inside of me just thinking about that. I guess I could have pulled Micah and Aidan aside and told them that I did all the work and that Liam didn’t help at all. But that felt like such a petty thing to fixate on. And I didn’t want to ruin their perfect night with my drama.
Whatever. The important thing is they loved the party and had a wonderful time. That’s all that matters.
The couple in front of us walks off and the hostess smiles at us. “Do you have a reservation?” she asks in a cheery tone.
“Yes. Kendall Varay, party of two.”
“Great!” She glances down at the hostess stand. After a few seconds, her smile fades. She frowns. “I’m not seeing it for some reason.”
“Oh. Well, I called two weeks ago and made the reservation…” I go quiet as the hostess continues to frown and swipe at the computer screen.
A minute later she sighs and glances up at me. “I’m sorry, I can’t find your reservation. Are you sure it’s under that name?”
“Yeah, I’m positive.” More people crowd behind us, waiting in line to check in with the hostess. I push Auntie’s wheelchair up a bit farther, careful not to hit her legs against the podium. “Sorry, but can you check again? I know I made a reservation.”
“Sure,” she says in a tired tone. “Do you have a confirmation code?” she asks after a few seconds.
I shake my head. “I never got one. The person I made the reservation with on the phone didn’t mention anything about a confirmation code.”
The hostess sighs. “I’m so sorry. There must have been a mistake on our part. We can’t find your reservation.” She points to the bar. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any open tables, but there are a few open seats at the end of the bar.”
I clench my jaw, irritated. “We can’t sit there. There’s not enough room for my aunt’s wheelchair.”
Behind me, I hear a guy grumble about how long we’re taking. I turn around and glare at him. His face turns red and he looks down at the floor.
When I turn back to the hostess, she’s giving a pitying look to my aunt.
“Again, I’m so sorry, but the seats at the bar are all we have at the moment.”
I open my mouth to say more, but Auntie reaches up and grabs my hand. She flashes a sad smile. “It’s okay, anak. Let’s just go.”
My chest cracks in half. My eyes burn, tears threatening to fall. I’m so sick of this happening at half of the places we try to visit. So many businesses say they’re wheelchair accessible and accommodate disabled people, but that’s not the case.
