Page 37 of White Wedding
She stood to hug Rafael, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Despite her diminutive size, she was a bundle of energy. For years, she’d worked alongside them in the restaurant until her arthritis had proved too debilitating. But she’d turned her attention toward the creation of a cookbook encompassing thirty years of family recipes. Though she understood the importance of tradition, she was also the one who responded the most enthusiastically to her youngest son’s attempt to try new dishes.
“Good morning, Má.” He gestured to the wire-frame reindeer that adorned the front lawn. “Did Tony put those up?”
“Yesterday morning. And the lights. They look good, no?”
“They look great. I’ll have to come by at night so I can see everything all lit up.” Thank God Tony had taken charge of her Christmas decorations. Rafael didn’t have the patience. “You ready to go?”
She nodded, and he walked her to the car, setting her cart in the trunk. After changing the radio to an all-Christmas station, she settled in, humming along to various carols. Rafael glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, curious as to why she wasn’t asking him about his love life. She must be waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Though he usually handled her questions with a dose of humor, today he wasn’t in the mood. The last thing he wanted to think about was his love life. Or lack thereof. He was still smarting from Victoria’s brush-off three nights ago. He knew he’d taken a risk when he texted her after hours. But he’d been mulling over their last conversation, and he was worried he’d pushed her too far. He wanted her to understand how seriously he was taking the job.
But then his stupid hormones had kicked in. Instead of leaving well enough alone, he’d crossed the line by flirting with her. Then she’d upped the ante by calling him and suggesting he undress her verbally. Which was the best offer he’d had inmonths.
Until she shut him down cold.
He had no idea what had prompted her abrupt mood swing, though he suspected it had something to do with her father. But as frustrating as her change in tone was, it was also a wake-up call.
Get your head in the game. Don’t screw this up because you’re thinking with your dick.
He pulled into a prime parking spot near the north end of the market. After taking a last sip of coffee, he followed Mamá, who made a beeline for the vendors, pulling her cart behind her. Rafael generally let her set the pace, but he stopped when they passed the French bakery stall. “How about a treat?”
She patted her stomach. “I shouldn’t, but you know I can’t resist.”
He ordered a couple of almond croissants. The girl behind the stall favored him with a flirtatious smile as she bagged up their pastries. Rather than chat her up, he merely gave her a friendly nod. As they walked away, his mom nudged him. “She was pretty, no?”
“She was.” He wrapped one of the croissants in a napkin and handed it to her.
For a moment, he thought he’d dodged a bullet as she munched on the croissant. But as soon as she finished it and tossed the napkin in a trash bin, she started up again. “But you’re not interested? Have you found someone new? Someone you haven’t told me about?”
“Not since the last time I saw you.” Which, for the record, had been five days ago, when he stopped by to trim the bushes in her backyard.
She gave him another nudge. Harder, this time. “Are you taking a tone with me?” She headed toward the Freshly Farms stall, purveyors of the finest eggs in the market.
Guilt washed over him as he trailed after her. “Sorry. But there’s no one. The minute there is, I’ll let you know.”
She let out one of those long sighs that made him flinch. “I want you to be happy, mijo. Like your brothers. Find a nice girl and start a family.”
He wasn’t averse to the thought. But before he could make that kind of commitment, he needed to meet the right woman. Someone who loved him for exactly who he was and had made her own share of mistakes so that she’d understand his imperfections.
Like Victoria.
No.She might have opened up to him, but she’d never consider a future with him. Not when they were from such vastly different worlds.
“After the holidays, maybe I’ll check out one of those dating apps,” he said.
He’d never needed one before. Finding hookups had always been easy. Finding a woman to love and trust? Not so easy.
Mamá frowned. “I don’t trust those apps. Too many people pretend to be someone they’re not. Like that show—Catfishing.”
“It’sCatfish, Má, and that’s not going to happen.”
Note to self—tell Araceli to stop watching reality shows with Mamá.
Mamá greeted the Freshly Farms girl, then made a show of looking through the egg cartons, one by one. “Mmm-hmmm. So, tell me, what am I hearing about this Victoria Blackwood?”
“What?” Rafael choked on his croissant, then spent a minute clearing his throat. “She’s…ah…she’s not. I’m not…”Damn it.He was mucking this up. Mamá’s Spidey senses would start tingling any minute. “She and I aren’t dating. She’s the event coordinator at Blackwood Cellars. I’m working with her on the Cavendish-Macalister wedding.”
“I know who she is. But I’m wondering what’s up. Martin called me.”
