She frowns, concern knitting her brows. “What do you mean?”
I gesture vaguely to the boisterous celebration around us. “All of this ... it’s not me. I don’t know these people, and I’m not sure I want to.” My mother’s marrying into a whole new family, connected to people I’ve never even met. What sort of parent does that?
Cecilia’s lips part like she wants to say something, but instead, rests a reassuring hand on my arm, her touch a lifeline in this sea of strangers.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” she tells me. “It’s normal. But try and enjoy the reception. Everything is so beautiful.” There’s a wistful note in her voice. I thought being here—spending time with Cecilia today—would be a good thing. Hell, I wanted this. Anything to put her by my side, but I wasn’t at all prepared for the nauseous feelings rolling around in my gut.
“We should go.” I push to my feet.
Cecilia rises with me but quickly steps in my way. Her hands come up to capture my face. “We can leave if you want. It’s okay.” Good. Because that’s exactly what I plan to do. This was a terrible idea. “But you should at least tell your mother congratulations and say goodbye. I think she’d be hurt if you left without saying anything.”
Fuck. She’s right. I swallow hard before taking a deep breath. “Okay.” I can do this. “We’ll congratulate the happy couple and then go.”
Cecilia smiles, her eyes filled with compassion. “Alright. Let’s go find her.”
As we make our way through the crowd, my discomfort gnaws at me like a relentless itch. People eye me curiously, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not welcome here.
When we reach my mother, she’s talking to a small circle of guests. The groom and one of his groomsmen stand close beside her.
“Hi,” I offer as we approach. I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek. “Congratulations, Mom.” I turn and offer her new husband my hand. He shakes it. “I’m Gabriel. Her son. It’s nice to meet you.” He looks at me with a mixture of shock and confusion before dropping my hand.
“Justin,” he supplies before turning to my mother. “Bernadina?” There’s a question in his voice.
My mother’s face contorts in disbelief. ”What are you doing here, Gabriel?” She whispers my name as if it’s a curse.
I step back, realization digging knives into my chest. “You sent me an invitation. I … I thought you wanted me to come?”
Her new husband—Justin—looks taken aback, clearly not at all aware that his new wife has a son.
He clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I didn’t know Bernadina had a surviving son.” So she told him about Carlos, but she didn’t bother mentioning me?
Sharp talons sink into my chest, twisting and yanking until it becomes difficult to breathe.
My mother tries to regain her composure, her voice strained. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. There must have been an oversight. I didn’t mean for you to be here. I?—”
The words sting more than I expect, and anger bubbles up within me. “An oversight? Really, Mom?” There’s a bite in my voice that I don’t intend to be there, butfuck—is she for real right now?
The younger of the groomsmen steps forward. “I’m the one who sent the invitation,” he says, and all eyes turn in his direction. “I found your contact information in Bernadina’s address book. I didn’t know who you were. I thought you were family, given the last name. I’m sorry. I was just trying to help with the wedding.” He ducks his head and mumbles another apology.
“It’s alright, son,” Justin tells him. “We’ll get this sorted out.” I can see it now. The resemblance between the two of them. I flick my gaze between him and another of the groomsman, who’s now making his way toward us.
“Hey.” He smiles wide as soon as he’s close and offers me his hand. “I’m Asher. Have we met?”
They’ve got to be no more than a year or two apart. Close to my age. Brothers. A spear of jealousy hits me square in the chest.
Cecilia’s fingers wrap around my biceps. “Gabriel?” she says, and I realize the groomsman—Asher— is still waiting for me to shake his hand.
Fuck. My jaw clenches.
Asher drops his hand once he realizes I’m not going to take it. He looks around at the faces in our circle, taking note of the tensionthat hangs thick in the air. “What’s going on?” The question is directed at his brother. “Adam?”
“You replaced us,” I say to my mother. “One for Dad—” I indicate Justin, her new husband. “One for Carlos.” I turn to Adam. “And one for me.” My eyes meet Asher’s dark brown and confused gaze. He’s the closest in age to me. Hell, for all I know, he’s also twenty-two. A stepbrother. Carlos is dead, and this guy is now my stepbrother.
The surrealness of the situation slams into me and I bark out a laugh. It’s jagged and hollow even to my own ears, but fuck if I care.
My mother winces.
What she’s doing, it’s a slap in the face. She’s built an entirely new life with a new husband and new children, one where there’s no room left for me.
