“Couldn’t have been that much,” Valentina says, her voice casual, like it’s no big deal, like she really means it.
“Screw you,” I spit, my anger flaring at how easily she dismisses it.
“Okay, you love birds. Let’s settle down!” Maria cuts in.
I turn up the music to drown my anger and crack the window open slightly. The sound of crickets is almost overwhelming. However, I have a feeling this will become a sound I will cherish for the rest of my life. I take it all in. All I have to do is check in, find my cabin, and hide away for a bit. Get myself situated. Figure out my game plan. I pull my bag closer to me, feeling the outline of my father’s book on my lap. I grip it tighter.
After some uncomfortable silence, we finally reach the main cabin. This must be where we are supposed to check in. We park in front of the cabin at one of the guest parking spots and sit in the car for a moment.
“We have arrived at your destination,” Valentina says in a robotic GPS voice.
“Thank you so much for the ride. We really appreciate it. Right, Isa?” Maria glances over at me, raising her eyebrows to imply I should say something.
“Yeah, thanks,” I mutter, stepping out of the car quickly, needing the distance from Valentina, even though the pull between us lingers.
Valentina just nods, her eyes lingering on me for a moment too long, and for a split second, I think I see that softness in her gaze again—something that makes my heart race.
I immediately step outside, eager to put space between us and shake off this foreign feeling. I don’t even have a second to realize I’m actually here. At the wedding of my cousin I haven’t seen in a decade. I grab Maria’s hand and start walking toward the main office.
“Hey, she really is hot now,” Maria says as she waves goodbye to Valentina.
“And still a life ruiner,” I add, though I can’t deny the pull of attraction simmering beneath my anger. I hate that Maria is right. Valentina has changed—grown into her confidence in a way that makes it hard to look away—but I can’t forget what she’s done. I won’t let myself.
“Well, that seems dramatic. She ruined your dress, sure, but did that really ruin the party? I remember it being so much fun regardless.”
“Of course you do.” I sigh. “Technically, no. She just sucks for embarrassing me for life. Mariposa and Rosita ruined it.”
“That’s true. The elusive fight.”
I stop and turn around to face Maria. She takes a step back, startled by my sudden movement. I look around the campsite to make sure no one is too close.
“That’s another reason I have decided to come. No one has ever figured out what happened, and for once, I get to focus on something that isn’t falling apart. This week, I’ll uncover the truth—and maybe, just maybe, I can escape the restaurant’s constant weight for a while.”
“Riiiight.And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” she whispers as we walk up the porch steps to the front door of the main office.
“I haven’t planned that far yet. One thing at a time.”
“Welcome to Sofia and Luciano’s wedding!” a deep voice echoes as the door to the cabin swings open.
I look up and squint my eyes past the sun’s glare to see a young man, probably my age, staring at us and smiling. His wispy auburn hair falls perfectly on top of his forehead, complimented by his deep-brown eyes. His smile could blind the sun. For all intents and purposes, he’s a dreamboat. McDreamyFace, if you will.
“Come on in.” He signals us to come inside.
The cabin looks exactly like the photos I looked at more times than I want to admit. It’s woodsy, cozy, and warm. I mean, the walls are made of literal wood logs. It can’t get any woodsier. The only difference is that Sofia has managed to turn it into the perfect welcome spot for any lavish wedding. As soon as I step inside, two men dressed in white suits holding trays of macarons greet me.
“Uh, hello,” I say to one of the men and grab a pink macaron.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Maria cheerfully grabs three and immediately bites down on one of them. “I can already tell this is going to be the most epic wedding I’ve ever attended.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” I say.
We follow McDreamyFace to the counter.
“Help yourself to a strawberry or mango mimosa,” he says, pointing at the champagne flutes sitting on one side of the counter.
Maria grabs a mango one, so I grab the other flavor and take a sip. It’s perfect, of course. It was probably made with fresh strawberries shipped all the way from France.
“It doesn’t count as day drinking if it comes with orange juice, am I right?” He laughs. “I’m Daniel. I’ll be your interim camp counselor and wedding guide for the rest of the week.”
