“If that’s what you imagine,” he said carefully, “then that’s where it should be.”
“It’s a logistical nightmare,” I muttered, shaking my head. “How on earth would we get all of the Medinas and Flores and everyone else over there?” I felt a sad little swoop in my stomach, but I pressed on. “It makes much more sense to get married here.”
“We could fly everyone over,” he argued. “It might be kind of cool, actually. Give your aunts and uncles and all those cousins a chance to see London. You said none of them had ever been to Europe.”
I sighed, not really wanting to bring up the money thing again so soon but seeing no other choice. “Thomas, we said we weren’t going to be showy, right? You realize I have thirty first cousins? And their spouses, kids, my aunts and uncles…we’re talking a hundred people, easy. We cannot fly them all there and put them up. It’s…beyond extravagant.”
“Would…would they all have to come?” When it was clear I was about to argue, he raised a hand to cut me off. “Just hear me out. What if we brought over your close family for the wedding, then came back here later for a big party with everyone else?”
“I don’t know.” I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, feeling a headache coming on. I had thought starting to plan the wedding would be so much fun, but we’d only been talking for half an hour and I was already frustrated with the whole thing.
“I think…I think my parents might be upset if we did that. Weddings are a big deal for our family, you know? Everyone comes. My dad would think it was bad form to exclude anyone, including like, third cousins I’ve never even met.” I remembered Laura’s wedding a few years ago, how it had happened to fall only a few months after my cousin Carla’s. My dad and my uncle had gone to great pains to out do each other, each determined to throw the biggest, best, most outlandish party. I felt another swoop of dismay in my stomach. “They’re going to have a hard enough time dealing with the fact that we’re going to pay for it, that they won’t be the ones throwing it.”
“Hey,” Thomas said, tilting my chin up so I was looking at him. “Please don’t get sad. This is our wedding, Lizzie. It’s for us, not them. It will make me really sad if you spend the whole time trying to please everyone else instead of thinking about what you want.”
I nodded, but it was mostly for show. It was easy enough to say that, but a lot harder to really believe it. I’d come a long way when it came to standing up to my family, but the idea of upsetting them over an event that was supposed to be joyous for everyone already had my stomach in knots.
“Let’s table the London versus Detroit debate for now,” he said. “We’ll talk to them after the party, see how big of a deal it would be. Okay?”
“Okay.” I felt a little flicker of hope in my chest. Maybe if we could talk to my parents in private, away from Maria and everyone else with an oversized opinion, we could convince them that the wedding in London/party in Detroit idea was a good one.
He pulled me back into his chest, and I nestled there, allowing myself to imagine the wedding I had dreamed of, in London, where we had fallen in love, surrounded only by the people that meant the most to us.
“There is one other thing we should talk about tonight,” he murmured into my hair before kissing the top of my head.
“What’s that?”
“Where should we go for our honeymoon?”
“Somewhere warm,” I said immediately, thinking of Malibu. Though spring was fast approaching in Michigan, it was still cold. And drizzly, most of the time. If I missed anything about our brief stay in California, it was the warm sun and the ocean waves.
“Somewhere warm, eh? How about the Caribbean?”
“I’ve never been.”
“Nor I.”
“I hear the water is turquoise.”
“And the beaches are made of white sand.”
I closed my eyes, picturing it. Thomas and me lying in the sun, far away from my family, his job, the fans. Far away from everything, except each other.
“This whole getting married sooner rather than later idea was pretty smart,” I murmured snuggling into him further, feeling his arms tighten around me.
I could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. “Damn right it was.”
Chapter Three
The day before our engagement party, we were assigned the task of driving down to the city to pick up some last-minute items in Mexicantown. Sofie was coming with us to help me show Thomas the neighborhood. I was excited—the restaurants, bakeries, and shops in Mexicantown had always been a huge part of my life. My dad’s family had lived there when they first came to the States. He and my mom had a house right down the street from his parents when they were newly married, and we’d lived in my grandparents’ house for a few years after they died, before moving out to the suburbs. Many of our friends and family were still in the city.
We picked up Sofie just before noon. As we pulled into her driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt, prepared to go inside and fetch her, but she appeared on the front porch, pulling the door firmly shut behind her.
I looked over at Thomas, eyebrows raised. “I guess she’s in a hurry.”
Sofie ran down the driveway past her mother’s neatly manicured hosta plants and pulled open the passenger door behind Thomas.
“Morning, chica.” I turned in my seat to face her. “Is your mom home? We would have come in to say hello, you know.”
I caught her making a face as she buckled up. “I know. I just had to get out of that house.”
There was something in her tone, something that spoke of more than our usual level of well-rehearsed annoyance at our collective families.
“You okay?”
Finished with her seatbelt, she gave me a weak smile. “Fine. Mom’s on my case. You know how it goes.”
That was a bit of an understatement. I wanted to press, but she winked at me, her smile growing slightly less wary, and I decided to drop it. She could tell me what was going on when she was ready. “So,” she said, her voice bright, “what’s on the agenda today?” Before I could say anything, she hurried on. “And you better tell me that we’re stopping at Gloria’s, or I’ll walk right back inside, miss. Annoying mother or not.”
I laughed, turning to face forward as Thomas pulled out of the driveway. “Gloria’s is definitely a central part of the plan. I’ve been trying to explain the wonder of it to Thomas, but I’m not sure he gets it.”
Sof closed her eyes, smiling dreamily. “You’ll see, Thomas. It’s amazing.”
“So I’ve been told.” He shook his head in mock irritation. “I did try to explain to Lizzie that we do, in fact, have bakeries in England.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, buddy. Nothing compares to Gloria’s.”
We spent most of the ride down to the city discussing plans for the engagement party. Sofie had been working to get things ready with my siblings and parents, along with her parents and her sister, Carla. Apparently, she’d been filling tamales for the past week.
“It’s really quite nice, isn’t it?” Thomas said, reaching across the gearshift to take my hand. “The way you Medinas all come together to do nice things for each other.”
Sofie snorted in the back seat. “Nice. Yeah.”
Again, there was something in her tone I didn’t much like. My cousin and I had spent years of our lives bitching about our family—the way they were always in our business, the way everyone was expected to stay close to home, socialize close to home, marry close to home, work close to home. It could be stifling and frustrating and down right maddening. But we loved them, of course; complain though we might. The six months I had spent estranged from half of my family had been the loneliest of my life, and I was sure Sof would feel the same way in my position. Today, though, she seemed off. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, exactly, but Thomas was nearing the exit to Mexicantown, and I had to focus on giving him directions.
“I figured we should eat first, so the groceries don’t have
to sit,” I explained, and Sof nodded wordlessly from the back seat, her attention on her window, her gaze unfocused.
I directed Thomas to a parking lot across the street from Garcia’s, my favorite restaurant in the neighborhood. As we piled out of the car, my cousin seemed to brighten. I couldn’t blame her. We finally had a true spring day—warm and sunny with few clouds in the sky, and we had all afternoon to ourselves, away from anything that might be annoying us at home.
“This place has great food, Thomas,” she said as we crossed the street. “Our family goes way back with the owner. There’s a banquet room in the back that has seen many of our little shindigs. Lizzie even had her quince here.”
Thomas looked down at me, his eyes very green in the bright sunlight. “Your quince, eh? I don’t think you ever told me about it.”
Sofie grinned wickedly. “I can give you tons of dirt on Lizzie as a teenager.”
Thomas nudged her with his elbow, speaking from the corner of his mouth in a loud stage whisper. “Hook me up later, yeah?”
“Ha ha,” I muttered as Thomas held the restaurant door open for Sof and me to lead the way inside. Garcia’s was pretty crowded for the middle of a workday, but there were still ample tables, and we were able to sit without a wait.
“This is cool,” Thomas said, looking around. The restaurant was painted in bright yellows and greens, and the walls were covered in an array of Mexican-themed decorations like paintings, flags, statues, and masks, some more obviously authentic than others. The space felt slightly cluttered, but that, along with the soft background music and the low buzz of conversations and laughter, added to the warm vibe that permeated the place. Plus it smelled fantastic, which was always a good thing.
“The food is even better,” I assured him, opening my menu. They followed suit, though I knew for sure that Sof was going to pick the tamales. She always picked the tamales.
“What do you recommend?” Thomas asked, squinting down at the menu. “I haven’t heard of some of these things.”
“Well, they have all the basic Mexican food you’re probably used to.” I leaned into him a little so I could peer down at his menu. “Enchiladas and burritos and stuff, which are all really good here. They also do really nice skillet fajitas. Or you might like the taco combination plate, they give hard and soft shells.”
“I’d rather try something I’ve never had before,” he said, his face scrunched up the way it gets when he concentrates. I smiled to myself—he was so darned cute.
I pointed out a few of the more authentic items that he wasn’t as likely to find in a run-of-the-mill Mexican chain. “My dad always gets this steak,” I explained, pointing at the menu. “You’d probably like it a lot.”
“You said the magic word.” He grinned at me. Thomas loved steak. As expected, Sofie ordered the tamales, and I decided on the ooey-gooey cheesiness of chicken enchiladas, trying not to think about the fact that I was going to be trying on wedding dresses in the not-too-distant future. We rounded out our order with a request for margaritas, then got to work on the complimentary chips and salsa.
“So tell me about this quince,” Thomas said. “That’s your fifteenth birthday, right?”
I nodded, grabbing a chip. “Yeah, it’s a pretty big deal in our culture.”
“It’s supposed to symbolize the girl becoming a woman,” Sofie added. “In our family, we celebrate a special mass at church and then everyone has a huge party.” She winked at Thomas. “Not unlike what you can expect for your wedding.”
“Do you get all dressed up?” he asked.
Sofie’s mouth dropped open. “You haven’t seen pictures of her in the quince dress?”
Thomas shook his head, bemused by her reaction. Sofie’s gaping jaw transformed into a mischievous grin. “Oh, just wait. I have pictures to show you, buddy.”
Thomas widened his eyes at me. “Should I be hurt that you’ve never offered to show me these pictures?”
I glared at Sofie. “I was fifteen, gangly, and had frizzy hair and braces. My quince dress was fuchsia, covered in enough gaudy beading to blind you from ten feet away, with a skirt almost too big for me to fit through doorways. Sorry I didn’t want to share those precious memories with you.”
“I’ll hook you up,” Sofie assured him.
Clearly trying not to laugh at the look on my face, Thomas changed the subject. “So you had a big party here? With all your family?”
I nodded. “It was pretty massive, to be honest. My dad basically invited everyone we knew.”
“And Lizzie had to do a choreographed dance in front of all of them,” Sofie said happily.
“Oh, and yours was so much better?” I shot back. “Don’t forget that I have pictures, too, miss.”
She pointed her chip at me. “Point taken. I’ll be good.”
“I don’t know,” Thomas said, grabbing the salsa from Sofie to scoop the last blob up onto his chip. “It sounds like fun to me. Your entire family celebrating your birthday, good food, dancing. I wish we had something like that.”
“Ah, but you will,” Sofie said. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it was a lot like what you can expect with the wedding.” She pushed the empty chip basket away, wiping her hands on her napkin. “Let me break it down for you: Lizzie’s sisters and parents are going to be completely overbearing. They’ll have a certain way they think things should go—the same way, coincidently, that all of the previous family weddings before this one have gone. They’ll bully you about the guest list, the food, the venue, the clothes. And when they’re not bullying you, they’ll just be going ahead and making decisions without even telling you. They can’t wrap their minds around the idea that anyone might want to do things any differently.”
As she spoke, I realized that I was shredding my napkin into long strips, a sure sign that I was anxious. I crumpled the whole thing into a ball and tossed it aside. “We’re actually kind of hoping to have the wedding in London,” I told her, eyes trained on her face for her reaction.
She froze, her mouth gaping again. “Seriously?
I nodded. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I think it’s great you want to have the wedding there—I know how much the city means to you guys. I just…don’t underestimate the freak out this will cause, you know?”
“You think they’ll be that upset?” Thomas asked.
I could see her struggling to not roll her eyes. “I think they will, yes. Everyone gets married in our church. Everyone has a big reception in a hall or banquet room. It’s just the way we do things. And no one in our family is big on bucking those kinds of trends.”
Her face tightened suddenly, as if she was going to be sick. Before I could ask what was wrong, she was shaking her head. “But who knows, maybe they’ll surprise me.”
I could read the unspoken second half of her sentence in her face—I doubt it.
I sighed, looking at Thomas. “She’s probably right, about them freaking out. I just don’t know if it’s worth it.”
“It’s worth it to me if it’s what you want,” he said. “I’ve already told you, I’m happy getting married wherever you are.”
“It wouldn’t be that bad here,” Sofie added. “I know I just spent the last five minutes ragging on them, but our family weddings are really fun. It’s a nice gesture, too—the way everyone gets all involved and makes a big deal out of it. Kind of shows you that they care.”
“So, if we got married in Detroit,” Thomas asked, “would it be here? Where you had your quince?”
I looked around the familiar restaurant. “I don’t know. My sisters had their receptions at a banquet hall my dad’s uncle owns. It’s a little bit bigger and closer to the church.”
“What’s the banquet room here like?” he asked, looking around the room.
“You can actually kind of see it from here,” I told him, pointing over his shoulder to a patio visible from the window.
“We could probably sneak ba
ck there,” Sof said. Just then her phone rang. Was I imagining the blush that came to her cheeks when she looked at the number? “Uh, you guys go on without me,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “I need to take this.”
I frowned. It wasn’t like Sofie to take a call during lunch—in fact, we had a pretty strict rule about it. We were determined to never turn into those people that spend all their time on their phones, ignoring everyone around them. Before I could point this out, Thomas was standing, extending an arm to me. “My dear,” he said with a smile, and I stood to lead him back to the banquet hall.
“It looks smaller than I remember,” I murmured from the doorway, staring into the empty, brick-walled room. “It’s hard to imagine my entire family in here.”
“Where was the cake?” he asked, and I led him further into the room.
“Right over there. And the patio was open, all strung up with lights. It was pretty.”
His arm came around me, low on my back. “There was dancing?”
“There was.” I smiled a little at the memory. “My dad danced with me first. And then all of my brothers. Matias teased me the entire time, of course, but he still did it.”
“I have a feeling your parents would have killed him if he hadn’t.”
I grinned up at him. “You’re catching on fast. It’s like you’re a part of the family already.”
“What were you like?” he asked. “When you were a teenager?”
“All shy and awkward with my nose always stuck in a book.”
“Your nose is still always stuck in a book.”
I stuck out my tongue at him and he leaned down close to whisper in my ear. “But I would hardly call you awkward. Or shy. More like beautiful and impossibly sexy.”
I leaned into him and he took my hand, his other arm firmly across my back. “I wish I had known you,” he said, starting to move us around the room in a silent, private dance. “I wish I had always known you.”
“You’ll have to settle for knowing me for the rest of my life,” I replied, letting him lead me.
Lovestruck Forever Page 3
