Chapter 8
“When I said wanted woman, this was not what I had in mind.”
-Celia
The last two weeks had been a real stinker. For me. For everyone else, things were freaking hunky-dory.
Luke and Wysdom adopted their foster kids. Wysdom delivered their twins in an emergency C-section. And a few moments ago, Luke and Wys finally tied the knot.
It was an unconventional wedding. The bride wore flip-flops and waltzed down the aisle to Billy Idol’s “White Wedding.” My brother and new sister-in-law traded hilarious vows. And now, the entire backyard of their McMansion had been turned into a wedding reception wonderland, complete with a dance floor and champagne fountain.
I grabbed a glass of champagne and headed toward the table where my parents held Luke and Wysdom’s twins.
“Mija, wasn’t this the most beautiful wedding?” My Mama, Carmen Saber, bounced her namesake grandson Carmine in her arms, making faces at him. “Beautiful wedding! Yes, it was!"
I snorted. She loved grandbabies. And it had been a hot minute since we had little ones in the family. My Papa, Luis, tried to act like the tough guy, but his granddaughter Wil wrapped her tiny hand around his finger and laughed. The man melted like a stick of butter.
He cleared his throat. “They’re in love. That makes it beautiful.”
“You know,” Mama turned to me. “It’s never too late for a do-over. Look at Wysdom!”
My new sister-in-law had been married before to an absolute tool of a man. He divorced her after she miscarried, leaving her with next to nothing. She managed to pull herself up by her bootstraps, find her soulmate, and start a new business. I envied her plucky attitude about the whole thing.
And her ability to punch that tool in the face if he got out of line.
I fantasized more than once about burying my fist into Octavio’s face, but that’s all it was. A fantasy.
My life was a mess. It made me want to curl into a little ball until the bad news went away.
I was about to tell my parents to stop matchmaking when the most handsome man in the world caught my eye across the dance floor. My mouth went dry. My palms turned sweaty as Flint crossed through a sea of people to get to me.
My mother mumbled something that sounded like “Holy Sex on a Stick! You go, girl. But remember - no glove, no love.”
I whipped my head around to stare at Mama. Surely she didn’t just say, “no glove, no love.”
Before I could ask her to repeat herself, Flint stood before me.
“Celia, may I have this dance?” He held out his hand. Waiting.
I stared at his hand, took a sip of champagne, then nodded. He took the glass away from me, setting it down on the table, then led me to the dance floor. He took my right hand in his left, then snaked his other arm around my waist, drawing me in. I looked up into his eyes as we began to move.
It was the most natural feeling in the world. And Flint had some moves! Oh, yeah, he had mad skills in the bedroom. But who knew he could dance?
Before I could say a word, my brother interrupted. “A word,Mendota?”
Flint dropped my hand and stepped away, following my brother into the house.
Crap on a cracker.
I went to follow them, but my mother waved me down. “Mija, your phone is ringing.”
My heart rate spiked. I hadn’t heard another word out of Octavio in the last few days. It had been blissful, but I guess the other shoe had to drop sometime.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Cruz?”
“It’s Celia Saber Cruz,” I corrected the man on the other line. “How can I help you?”
