“Don’t let it go to your head, this day has us all in our feelings.”
“I know. Milo’s so damn happy that for a whole ten minutes there he forgot to boss us around.” That made me laugh for real. I lifted my face to the sky and felt the briny sea breeze as we walked.
For a second I felt him hesitate, but then he lifted his arm over my shoulder. He didn’t drop it though, just let it hover over there for a second, waiting for me to pull it down. I didn’t question my impulse as I brought a hand up to settle his arm around my shoulder.
Juan Pablo
There were many sides to Priscilla, and over the years I had seen most of them, but her vulnerable, quiet side was not one I’d seen a lot.
I wasn’t sure what to think when we reached the edge of the hotel property and she had her hand gently resting on the arm I’d draped around her shoulder. It was too dark now to see her clearly, but at the ceremony I could hardly keep my eyes off her.
She was wearing a long gray and turquoise maxi dress. The top hugged her breasts and showed off her strong brown arms. She’d braided her hair in an intricate design, which made her look like a Taino princess. I was never any good at coming up with clever or romantic words, but for Priscilla corny shit always seemed to be right at the tip of my tongue.
“Do you need to get back to the reception? Photos, speeches?”
I startled when her voice pierced the quiet, and turned to look at her. “We took all the pics beforehand, because it would be too dark after the ceremony.” She dipped her head once at that. “But I do have to be there in—” I lifted my arm to look at my watch “—about fifteen minutes. We let Priya and Ayako convince us to act out a poem for our joint speech, and I have to go look like a jackass in front of a hundred people.”
She busted up at that. “Of course they did. I can’t wait to hear what those two came up with. It’s so great that Milo and Tom’s friends get along so well.” She said it in that same glad-but-a-little-sad tone she’d been using all week. As we walked back up to the hotel, I wondered if all this was also getting to her.
I almost asked her what was wrong, or if this weekend had just a tinge of bittersweet to it for her too, but getting to Priscilla’s soft underbelly was almost never a pleasant experience and I didn’t want to ruin the moment. “We all do get along well. Ayako and Priya are thick as thieves. They’ve been working on that program together. Sanjay and Priya are giving a ton of money to start a South and East Asian LGBT+ Youth center in Queens and Ayako’s been really involved with that.”
Pris nodded and when she spoke I could hear the smile in her voice. “Leave it to Milo to find the one set of millionaires in New York who are not only all gorgeous and nice, but seem to be hell-bent on spending all their money on helping people.”
I cracked a smile at that. “And that little monster still finds shit to complain about.”
“That’s why we all love him. You never need to know where you stand with Camilo. He will let you know.”
I grunted some kind of affirmative response, feeling that a little more intensely than she probably meant me to. As we got closer to the lit reception area, we could smell the jerk chicken on the grill, but Priscilla spoke before I could. “Damn that smell’s making me hungry. I didn’t think I’d be able to eat after that gigantic lunch, but I could use a cocktail and some wings right now.”
I laughed at her ravenous expression. “Same. The food this week has been amazing.” Because Camilo was Cuban and Jamaican, we would have a Jamaican-themed cocktail hour, and dinner would be Dominican/Cuban fusion.
“Nesto really outdid himself on this one.” Pris’s voice was full of that pride she always had for her cousin. Nesto had asked two of his friends from culinary school—one Cuban and the other Jamaican—to come help out. Last night we’d had an amazing Afro-Caribbean fusion meal at the rehearsal dinner, and from the scents hitting us right now, we were in for another treat.
As we started walking up the stone path to the large covered terrace where guests were milling around various food stations I slid my arm from her shoulders. I almost didn’t say anything, but no matter how much things had changed I still had to be me. “I’m gonna take this arm off you right now, but know that it’s ready and able to be deployed whenever you need it.”
She just gave me some side-eye...and a smile. “Duly noted. Not that we want to give any of these people the wrong idea. Team JuanScilla is going strong in the Gutierrez family.” I grinned when she mentioned the nickname the guys had given us during a particularly hot and heavy time for us.
“Fuck no!” Throwing my hands up as if to shield myself. “Don’t even mention it in front of Camilo.”
I was about to make another joke about all the grief we put up with over the years when I noticed Patrice hurrying toward us. “Oh good! Here you are. We’re going to go practice this poem fiasco one more time before the speeches start.”
I just rolled my eyes as I stepped up to where he was with Pris next to me. “It’s a little difficult to buy how annoyed you are about this when you’re grinning so hard I can see your molars.”
Pris rolled her eyes at him too, pointing at Easton who was walking toward us with two champagne flutes in hand. “He probably thinks this is going to earn him points with Easton.” She clicked her tongue at Patrice, who was now waggling his eyebrows and mouthing, “You know I am.”
“Oh how the mighty fall. Patrice Denis, trying to get ass by acting a fool at a wedding. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
We all cracked up at that and by the time Easton made it to where we were, we had tears in your eyes. He handed Pris one of his glasses after giving Patrice a kiss. “Stop teasing my man, Priscilla.”
She balked at that. “How do you know I was teasing him?”
If any of us didn’t know her as well as we did, we’d think she was dead serious.
“I can tell. Now drink your delicious signature champagne cocktail so we can go get food from that unbelievable cocktail hour spread while these men go practice.”
She saluted us with one hand as she took a sip and moaned. “Damn. This is good. Champagne and what?”
Easton nodded in appreciation. “Tamarind and passion fruit.”
“Thank you baby Jesus for making Camilo skanky.” She pressed a hand to the champagne flute as if in prayer. “Because we are all reaping the fruits of his efforts.”
Man, I hadn’t seen that glint in Priscilla’s eyes since we’d gotten here. I didn’t want to get a big head and say our walk turned her mood around, but I could think it. I didn’t want to leave, just so I could get a little bit more time with her.
But before I could mess more with her, P clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go J.”
Pris and Easton lifted their glasses to us as we turned to join the others.
“Are you two patching things up?” That was another big change in Patrice, since he’d joined the ranks of the coupled off and blissfully happy. He now volunteered to know about people’s feelings.
“I wouldn’t say patch things up, but yeah it’s all good.” As we headed to join the rest of the wedding party to figure out how many ways we could make asses of ourselves in honor of our friend’s marriage, I thought about how good it had felt to have my arm around her, to see her at ease and joking, the way her laugh still did more for my soul than anything else in the world, how it probably would forever.
I knew it then. It was time to take my chance.
Chapter Six
Priscilla
No matter how I was handling my own feelings about my love life or my future, tonight had me feeling grateful. Tom and Camilo’s wedding had been not just beautiful but it had been a freaking love fest. It was impossible to be sad in the presence of two people that much in love with each other. It was also so good to be with family and friends to lift Milo up. No one deserved a happily-ever-afte
r more than him.
The guys and Ayako had brought down the house with their adorable and hilarious speech. Even Milo’s prickly ass hadn’t been able to keep from cackling as they relayed hilarious stories about Camilo’s reputation as the group’s ring leader and all the ways in which they loved him. For their first dance, Tom actually flew in Juan Luis Guerra, whose music meant so much to both of them, and they danced to “Cuando Te Beso,” as we all basically melted from how monumental it all felt.
It was past midnight and the party was still going strong. And another one of the merengue bands Tom hired for the wedding had all the Latinx people still going hard on the dance floor. I’d danced about three songs in a row with my dad and was about to call it quits when I felt someone tap my shoulder.
Before I could turn around I saw my father’s face light up. “Juan Pablo, you cutting in?”
He moved so he was standing next to my dad, a shy smile on his face, and my traitorous stomach dipped. He’d been dancing all night too. With his salsa skills he was always in high demand at weddings. At some point he’d unbuttoned his shirt, so I could see just a peek of that chiseled chest I’d been getting eyefuls of all week.
My dad released my hand and looked between the two of us. “Que dices, Pris?” What could I say? No?
I mean, I could but... I may not have wanted to admit it to myself but I’d kept an eye on him as he’d danced with other partners tonight. No matter who it was he was always the one leading, he was a beautiful dancer. I wanted to dance with Juan Pablo. He knew it too. I winked at my dad, trying to keep the mood light and not make this a thing like I seemed to do with everything lately and extended my hand to him.
He took it immediately, as my father clapped a hand on his shoulder and pointed to my mother, who was sitting at our table watching the dance floor with a tired smile. Her gauzy yellow dress hiked up to her knees. “I’m gonna get Maritza and head to the room. You got your key, right?”
I nodded and my dad walked off, leaving me in Juan Pablo’s arms. Just as I was about to make a snarky comment about his dance card finally having an opening, the first notes of “Entre tu Cuerpo y el Mio” started and he and I both stiffened at once.
Of fucking course our old song would start playing the moment we began dancing.
“That’s a throwback.” Juan Pablo wasn’t even trying to sound casual as we started moving. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d danced together. It’d been years, but as soon as he pressed his hand to the small of my back we were in sync again. Our feet stepping in unison, hips swaying to the same exact beat. I closed my eyes, confident in J’s lead as I listened to the singer belt out the lyrics to what had been our anthem. I felt his grip tighten when she sang about lovers that gave each other their very souls, bodies that fit so perfectly there was no space at all between them when they came together. He pressed closer and I let him as I mouthed the words from the song, my head thrown back.
I felt his beard brush against my face, as I pressed closer. We were almost the same height but with my heels on I was just a little bit taller. I smiled at that, because for all his posturing and vanity, Juan Pablo had never cared about that. On the contrary, he loved seeing me in heels.
“How did you enjoy the rest of the night?”
Oh shit. He was going to talk to me then. Because I wasn’t having enough of a problem not swooning over what his hips were doing or the man sweat and Tom Ford aftershave combo he was rocking right now. I slowly opened my eyes and he was looking at me expectantly, but again with that sort of Zen thing that he had going on these days. Like he could wait for my answer for as long as I needed.
“It was good.” I shook my head to clear it, because there was a lot going on in there and I’d had quite a few of those signature cocktails. “You have to stop looking at me like that. I let Easton convince me to have a few Henny shots, because he thinks he’s Drake now.”
That only got me another laugh from J and that wide grin that made his dimples pop...fuck. I was weak, and that motherfucker knew right when my defenses were at their lowest, because he put both hands right at my back and pushed in tight. “How am I looking at you?”
I closed my eyes again, breathed in deep and thanked the universe for my room, which was fully equipped with a set of parents. “You’re looking at me like you want to start something.”
When I opened my eyes, I expected him to be looking at me all seductive and shit, but he wasn’t. He just looked...happy. Before he spoke he smiled again and my chest tightened. I missed Juan Pablo still, no matter what happened. I missed him, and not just as a lover, but as a friend.
“I mean, I’m not going to lie. I’d love to start something with you, but I’m not going to push. I told you the last time, Pris. I don’t want to wreck things.”
That was another thing that the new Juan Pablo did, he talked. Shared his feelings openly. The song ended and the new one was an old bolero. One of those old ones that Luis Miguel had brought back in the ’90s and my mom had played 24/7 for months.
“Damn that’s old old school.” Juan Pablo grunted but didn’t make an attempt to bring me any closer. Boleros were a slow, tight against each other dance. If there was too much space between you and your partner, you were definitely not doing it right. But it seemed he was taking some sort of stance. I had to be the one to put us in the proper position. When I saw that eyebrow hiked up high on his forehead and that lopsided smile I gave in.
“Okay, fine.” I had my arms around his neck and was swaying with him after a moment, and I had to admit, it felt nice.
“This has been a good week. I won’t lie, there’s been some sexual frustration and confusion on my end.” He laughed as I eyed him suspiciously. “You’ve been giving off some really unusual vibes, Juan Pablo Campos.”
“Nah, I’m just not being my greasy shameless self.” He came to a dead stop on the dance floor, as if whatever he needed to say demanded his complete attention, and mine too. “These days I’m trying to be more cautious of how I approach things, being a little more careful with the people I love.”
It’s not like I hadn’t noticed it. He was different—contemplative, almost. Paying attention. Juan Pablo was the youngest and the only boy in his family. All his cousins were girls so he basically grew up as a prince, and he acted like it. He could be selfish sometimes. More than once his assumption that the world just had to accommodate to what he wanted had been a source of contention for us. But the hubris that usually accompanied that seemed to be done now. The way he carried himself was different. The line of his shoulders was stronger, and softer at once. That set to his chin that challenged the world not to give him what he wanted was softer now. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like this was a Juan Pablo I could almost take another chance on.
“Sorry,” I said with an embarrassed laugh. “I zoned out.”
Without asking me to give more of an explanation he started moving again. Once we were back in a groove, moving together in unison, he spoke.
“It’s not that deep. I’m just trying.” He didn’t say what for, but he didn’t have to. I knew what he meant.
“We all are.” I sounded tired and just a bit more jaded than I used to, and for the first time I felt bothered by it. I wanted to shake that weariness off my voice. Sound like I used to, purposeful, satisfied. “I guess the mid-thirties life crisis hits everyone differently, for you it’s been a positive change.”
As I looked for words for wherever I was going with this conversation the song stopped and some Latinx pop song came on. I wasn’t in the mood and suddenly the urge to spill my guts to Juan Pablo was almost overpowering.
I took his hand and angled my head to the beach. “I think I may call it a night.” J’s brow dipped in disappointment, but I shook my head and tugged on him. “Do you want to get out of here?”
At any other time this would have been his cue to say s
omething suggestive, to rake his eyes over me, knowing just how to get my blood boiling. Tonight he just pulled me along with him and said, “Let’s go.”
Juan Pablo
I knew I had Priscilla on pins and needles with my new vibe, and I wasn’t going to lie, it felt good to know she could see it. That she noticed there was a change in me. Because I’d wondering if it was only obvious to me. That all this shit I’d been working on hadn’t made a difference.
Before heading out we walked to one of the tables where Patrice and Easton were also getting ready to call it a night. Camilo and Tom had left hours ago, since they were flying out first thing to start on their honeymoon in Greece.
On a whim I grabbed a water bottle and couple of the tiny champagnes from one of the huge ice buckets that were placed all around the reception area. Once Priscilla had her gauzy shoulder wrap and small bag in hand, we headed to the beach.
“So what is this mid-thirties crisis thing about?” I asked as we walked out onto the sandy beach, the grains soft and still warm under our feet. Remnants from the sunny day.
Priscilla sighed and wrapped the sheer fabric around her shoulders. That thing didn’t look like it would do anything to keep her warm and I wished I had a jacket or something to give her. The breeze from the ocean had picked up with a vengeance now that it was more early morning than late at night. “It’s just work-related bullshit.”
“The Inwood precinct isn’t working out? I thought you liked it there.”
She gave me a curious look and I realized she hadn’t said this to me. I’d heard it through my mother, who heard it from the Dominican News Network, as Nesto always called it.
“My mom said you’d come by to talk to Papi after you took the job. She mentioned you seemed happy.”
She pursed her lips but her dark brown eyes had a glint of humor in them. “Our parents are serious busybodies, damn.”
I laughed at her stank face. “True.”
American Sweethearts Page 5
