I chuckle. “Umm, about cologne?”
“No, about whose cologne is lingering on my sister. So, spill. Now.”
Before I can say anything, Harper squirms in her seat excitedly. “Wait, is it, ah, what’s his name? Tom?”
The butterflies that invade my stomach from Tomás’ cologne dissipate and in its place is a sinking feeling. “You mean Tomás?”
Harper snaps her fingers. “Yes! That’s it! I couldn’t remember the name Mom told me.”
Fuck my life.
This is what I get for lying.
I part my lips, ready to tell her the truth, but she says something that stops me.
“I overheard him telling Ma that he thought you were lying. But you know how he is. Ever the pessimist.”
“Hold up, Dad said what?”
I don’t know what’s more concerning, the fact that my gut is telling me my dad likely assumed I was lying, causing him to push up the wedding to call my bluff, or that Harper is constantly brushing off his shitty behavior.
“He’s not a pessimist, Harper. He’s a fucking asshole.” The words come out harsh, giving off the illusion of anger, but they sting as they roll off my tongue.
“He’s… Dad.” Harper leaves it at that, and so do I.
She knows I’m right, and I hate that I am. And we both know he’s not going to change. Yes, he’s an asshole, but admitting that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“Anyway, tell me more about Tomás. Is he?—”
I can lie to my dad no problem, in fact it’s easier that way, but I’m not going to lie to my sister. “I’m his new Paralegal.”
“Wait. You’re dating your boss?” Excitement laces itself in her tone.
“He’s not really my boss. He’s just the attorney I work with.”
“Or under.” She jabs me again with her elbow.
“Ouch.” I laugh.
“Office romances are so hot. I love this for you. You seem happy, Ri. Seriously. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you happy.” I don’t have the heart to tell her the full truth like I want to. The sentiment in her voice grows irritated. “Especially since James.”
“Shh.” I reach for her hand, rubbing it. “Let’s not talk about him.”
“Say less. I hate him.”
“Me too.”
Our moment is disrupted by a round of lemon drops being passed out. We all hang out for another drink, and excitement grips me when one of Harper’s bridesmaids asks for the check so we can settle our tab.
“Ri, are you coming back to the hotel to hang?”
I take my phone out of my purse, illuminating the lock screen for the time. Not that it makes a difference, since I plan on Ubering back to my apartment.
We all walk out together, just as the Uber my sister and her friends ordered pulls up, with mine estimated to arrive in two minutes.
“Well, get home or to Tomás’ place safe.” She winks.
“I will get tomyhome just fine,” I reassure Harper, leaving it at that, not bothering to correct her as I hug her goodbye.
