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 fakebeing 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, theentirefiesta.
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, wherethere 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 ofSurprise!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,Idon’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 whatsister stuffmeans,” 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 turegaloes 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.
