“Oh?”
“Enrique’s getting married.”
“What? No way.”
That’s not what I expected to hear.
“Yeah. He met a woman a few months ago, and he’s head over heels. According to Laura, the few people who’ve met her think they’re a lot alike.”
Boss bitch.
No one gets anything past my sister. She was a corporate attorney, and that’s how she met my brother-in-law. She’s a shark and tiger combined. She’s even more tenacious now that she’s a mom. She has twin preschoolers. If this woman is anything like Laura, then Enrique’s met his match.
“Is she Colombian?”
I assume he’s marrying another Cartel woman like he did about fifteen or sixteen years ago. As far as I know, he’s been technically single. I don’t need more details than that since he was like an uncle for so long.
“No. She’s from Boston.”
“Huh? Is she younger than him?”
“A little. About ten years.”
He has his other nephew Pablo to be his heir, so he doesn’t need to try for any sons. Makes sense he’d find someone closer to his age.
“When you see Luis or Margherita, pass along myfelicidades.” Congratulations.
My parents and their neighbors are civil but not friends anymore.
“Enrique’s invited all of us to the reception.”
My gaze darts toward the door.
Motherfucker.
“Really?”
Once I’m finished wiping down any surface I touched, I put the tube of wipes in my go bag. I do a sweep of the bedroom, pulling the sheets of the still-made bed a little tighter. I didn’t sleep directly on the sheets, instead using my sleeping bag. I did my best to make sure I didn’t leave any hair as a sign I was there. It’s not like I thought somebody would send a forensics team in here, but in case Drew found me, I didn’t want to leave any obvious evidence that this was my room.
“Yes. Do you think you can come down for it?”
Since I’m already here.
“I can try. I can’t believe we’re invited.”
“You know Laura and Maks are, and so are the rest of the family. Laura’s made as much peace with Enrique as they can, so they’re on good terms right now. It’s not like Luis and Margherita are Dad’s and my enemies. We just aren’t close anymore. As strained as it is, we’ve all been like family far longer than we’ve been estranged. Should I reply it’ll be you and Drew?”
Fuck my life.
“Text me the date, and I’ll let you know whether he and I can make it. It might just be me.”
Or not.
“It’s next week.”
Shit. Shit. Fuck.
“Let me check my schedule, and I’ll get back to you. I gotta run, Mom.”
