Page 112 of All Twerk, No Play

He reached for the food that his mom boxed up, placing a warm kiss on her temple, giving one-armed hugs to his sisters, never releasing my hand.

“Cruz,” I said quietly. “What if …”

We’d planned to stay the night in the Hamptons and drive home tomorrow. When we snuck out, I’d just wanted to be home in Saratoga Springs.

But he’d brought me here to meet his family. They’d welcomed me into their home with open arms. He thought they’d like me, if I let them.

He’d offered me a weekend which I’d taken without thanks. He’d offered them an hour and they’d dropped everything for him … and I’d been an asshole, eating up half the allotted time, sitting outside as he comforted me.

“What if we stay the night?”

He coughed in surprise, and his mom’s eyes widened.

“I'll find a hotel,” I clarified, not wanting to force our way into their small house. “We can drive home tomorrow, so we can …”

I didn’t know what we would do, just that I didn’t want to tear him away from them, not when it felt like we just arrived.

Not when they loved him so much.

He kissed my lips, right there in front of his family. When he pulled away, his forehead rested on mine. “You’ve had a hell of a weekend, you don’t want to go home?”

“I want to stay,” I said, but he still looked skeptical. So I lifted my chin and turned on my brat voice. “We’re staying. I have Hilton points to burn.”

His eyes flared with heat at my bossy tone. He turned to his mom and sisters. “Apparently we’re spending the night.”

His mom’s face lit up and his sisters both squealed. Adriana launched into me with a big hug, her laugh piercing my ear drum. When Cruz pried her off me, Gloria came next, whispering in my ear, “Thank you for bringing my boy home, it’s the best gift I could have gotten.”

"Wonderful Tonight," Eric Clapton

Cruz

Victoriaplantedherselfonour couch like she owned it, booking a hotel room and ordering wine delivery while muttering about proper guest etiquette. My sisters descended—Luisa interrogating her about law school, Adriana brandishing makeup brushes while Tori directed: “Not a speck of fucking glitter, ok?”

The linoleum creaked under my weight as I braced for her unsolicited opinion. Bringing a woman home was a first for me. I was trying to play it cool, but I’d have sprinted through Queens after Victoria if Mama hadn’t stopped me at the door with her “Give her space” wisdom. Then she smirked at our joined hands, that infuriating I-told-you-so glint in her eye.

“You care about her.” Mama sipped the expensive wine then switched to Spanish for privacy, though I wouldn’t put it past Victoria I-Learn-Greek-For-Fun Blackstone to be secretly fluent. “But what happens when you bow out?”

I flinched. I expected Tori to dump me, not the other way around.

“You don’t do long-term,mijo. Not with jobs, not with women. Always one foot out the door.” Her tone wasn’t cruel, just factual. “You didn’t re-enlist. You didn’t take over Jim’s dojo. You dreamed of being a musician—”

“And I recognized how unrealistic that was.”

“Your band wants you to join as a full member, but you won’t—”

“I get it, okay?” I snapped. “I’m a fuck-up. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping your options open, Cruz. But now your sisters are getting attached.”

We glanced at the living room, where Luisa had curled into Victoria’s side while Adriana waved a curling iron like a fairy godmother’s magic wand.

“What about foundation? Concealer?” Victoria asked, voice alarmed.

“Nah, you don’t need it,” Adriana said. “Cruz, come see!”

I turned the corner—and forgot how to breathe.

Dark liner framed Victoria’s storm-cloud eyes, her hair tumbling loose over her shoulders. That wine-stained mouth pursed in a pout. “You’re not done.”

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