“Mmm.”
Uh, that wasn’t her. She wrinkled her nose at the sound. It was a little…um, enthusiastic.
“Oooh!”
Maybe a wedding guest.
“Mmmmmmmm.”
Mara pretended she hadn’t heard that and decided now was the perfect opportunity to post some stories of the event. Wildflower’s social media was a beast that needed to be constantly fed with content. She took a few photos before choosing a sweeping shot of the venue, carefully crafting a caption that was sentimental but not overly so—Flowers for a family affair. Our favorite kind of special event—and hit Post.
“Oh, shit that’s… Mmm.”
It had not been hard for Mara to fall in love with flowers. Her grandmother had a garden in what was now the Barretto family home, and Mara grew up around a small grove of orchids, rows of buttercups, making chains of santan flowers every afternoon. She made wishes on weeds and played with makahiya plants.
“Mmmm.”
That she rediscovered this love in her thirties, made a living out of it, was a gift, one she was happy to receive. It felt like a full circle moment, being able to use the flowers she first saw in her Lola’s gardens in Marina’s wedding arrangements.
“Mmmmmmmm.”
Whatwasthat? Mara’s phone almost immediately buzzed as likes came in, more so when she reposted it on her stories. She must have posted at an optimal time, although who even knew when that was anymore, right?
“Shit. Oh shit.”
Still ignoring whatever that was, she started tapping replies to some of the messages, sending hearts and likes, trying her hardest to ignore the sound. She made sure her phone was on max volume, so whoever it was wouldn’t miss that there was someone else in the room, who could hear…whatever it was they were doing.
“Ah, fuck, that’s good.”
“Hoy naman! Can you take that somewhere else?” she snapped, whirling around, ready to admonish whoever decided that hooking up in a seemingly unused ballroom was a good idea.Please don’t let it be Tita Claudine…
What she saw, instead, was a single person. The one guy wearing a tux to a barong wedding, holding a platito of illicit soft tacos, with one halfway to his mouth. Mara felt a jolt of surprise shoot through her body even as Jay Montinola stared at her with his own shocked, wide-eyed surprise.
The annoying thing about Jay was that it wasalmostimpossible to hate him because he was just so goddamnnice. He smiled at everyone, knew how to be meek and sheepish. He personified every expression he made. Laughed at jokes so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled. Filled quiet moments with little sound effects (Mara was pretty sure she heard him make “beep-boop” noises when Marina and David kissed in front of the church). And he did this thing where he leaned in close while actively listening to you speak.
At the time she met him, it made her think he would be good for Marina, because he seemed like a guy who found life interesting and fun. He brought up memories and stories at that one dinner that his friend David had long forgotten, ones that made him laugh and call Jay, “The best.”
But the operative word here wasalmost, because Mara had every reason to glare at him now. He’d been thoughtless and posted her unflattering photo for the public to see, without even having the decency of tagging her. And even worse, he never tried to find her, to explain himself, to tell her what happened. Now his cartoon-like freeze was just annoying, and she felt a very urgent need to snap at him even more. Snatch the tacos right out of his hands.
While he couldn’t take back what the internet had claimed, she could make him squirm. And that would be enough, because while Mara was a reasonable woman, she was also a petty bitch.
“You,” she said, her voice cool as ice as she straightened her back and stared down at him like a piece of gum under her sandal.
“Me?” he asked, sounding confused and innocent with the taco still halfway to his mouth.
“Yes! You!” she exclaimed, and she was aware she was screeching, just a little, but all she could see was red. “Go away!”
“I’m still eating!” he said back, and lo and behold, he still had a taco on his plate, and he swallowed the bite. The silence was awkward and weird. “Um…taco?”
“It’s Mara, actually.” She realized her mistake quickly, and she flinched when he opened his mouth to correct her, then immediately took it back when she glared again. Damn it! “Arrgh! Where did you get tacos? I know for a fact they’re not serving those until after the reception. Also, you’re not supposed to be in here!”
“Well, I was on my way out of the other ballroom when I got lost and ended up in the kitchen. The staff took pity on me and gave me a test batch.” It sounded so plausible, but Mara wasn’t inclined to feel generous at the moment. “Okay fine, maybe I asked. Begged. Cried.”
“Bribed?”
“Oh, not bribed. I’ll leave that to the politicians,” he said, nodding. Then he adopted a Kris Aquino game show host voice and said, “Pilipinas, tang ina talaga!”
“Thanks, BBM.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, because what had that man ever done for the country? Nothing. At least on that, they could agree.
