Page 53 of Fixed Up Ever After
If she didn’t know any better, Lola would think they were getting ready for a funeral. The navy dresses her sister insisted they all wear looked black in the shadows. The mood in the room didn’t indicate a blushing bride about to be reunited with her one true love. It felt more like a sterilized hospital room. The only one fluttering around the room working herself up into a stupor was her mother.
“No, no, no. The hair is supposed to be an updo. None of this curling nonsense,” her mom spat at the poor woman hired to do their hair. If she had to bet, she would guess the hairdresser gravely regretted taking this job. No amount of payment was worth this nonsense.
She listened to the woman calmly explain the styling process to her mother when Lola's phone buzzed.
She looked down at the phone glowing in her lap and saw that she had another text from Javi. Shame and guilt fought for dominance in her belly at his name. When they parted last night, she had left Javi all alone at their table. There was something different in their dinner date that time, something that felt suffocating when it should have brought comfort. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment her lust turned to love for a man she paid to date her, but she knew the moment she was in over her head.
The fire burning between them had become an inferno and the only way to put out the flames was to act on the passion. That, she didn’t regret. She regretted losing touch with reality and falling hard for a man she had no business being with. Not when she was still so conflicted over her own feelings. This had to be a sign that she wasn’t ready to jump into a relationship yet.
She had jumped into a relationship with Archie and it bit her in the ass. Perhaps it had always been a ploy to get with Marisol. The pretty one. The one that would look good at his side at events.
And maybe there was love between them, even if they showed their love differently than her, she still did not feel like this was the happy ever after everyone raved about. It felt much more like a business exchange. Exactly what she was doing with Javi right now.
Your father offered to take me golfing three times in the last thirty minutes. Does that mean I’m part of the family?
Despite her traitorous feelings, she smiled. Oh, how she wished that to be true, but it was becoming more apparent that her own feelings couldn’t be trusted.
Another text came in.
I miss you, preciosa.
Another dagger straight to the heart.
Lola had only seen Javi in passing this morning. She had woken up before him, with Javi sleeping on the far side of the bed. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, she tiptoed into the bathroom. Five minutes later she heard a loud banging on the suite door and peeked out to see who it was.
Javi had wrangled himself out of bed, looking disheveled, and opened the door only to see her father standing on the other side. She choked on the toothbrush in her mouth, gaining both of the men’s attention.
Her father had been on his way to Archie’s room, and he wanted to extend an invite to Javi. Poor Javi had looked like a frightened lamb caught in between two wolves. Either he went with her father and left her to her own devices or he stayed and potentially made her father angry.
Lola knew she needed to decide for him. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
With her being away with Marisol and her bridal party, it seemed only fitting that Javi joined the men. And as she predicted, he wasn't thrilled with the prospect, but he had agreed nonetheless.
He had given her a swift peck on the cheek—an appropriate response with her father in the room—before leaving. That was the last interaction she had with him and since then, he had texted multiple times to update her on his endeavors with “stuck-up, rich, white people,” as he put it.
Lola had read every message, but not replied. She only hated herself a little for leaving him on read, but she just didn’t know how to wrangle her feelings into words yet. Besides, if he asked about it later, she could say she was busy. In a little over an hour she would see him anyway. She didn’t think she was prepared to handle Javi dressed up for a wedding yet. She could only imagine how handsome he looked in a suit.
“Dolores! Do you have the rings?” Her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts, indicating this had not been the first time she had asked Lola this question.
Rummaging around in her white clutch, she pulled out the small black box. “All safe,” she assured, having picked up the rings earlier this morning. She had stored them away, knowing her mother would ask her dozens of times if they were safe.
“Ah, perfect. And you’ll give them to cousin Luis when we arrive at the venue? Not a moment sooner. I don’t need the boy losing these rings. They cost us a fortune.” About that, Lola had no doubt. She didn’t remind her mother that she wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t be giving anything to five-year-old cousin Luis until the very last possible second.
“And my shoes? You picked them up for me yesterday, right? Please tell me you grabbed my shoes from your room.” Marisol piped up, looking in the mirror to see her. Her hair was finally becoming the updo her mother wanted and she looked gorgeous, even more so than usual.
“I grabbed your shoes from my room,” Lola repeated like the obedient sister she was. “You look beautiful, Marisol.” Despite the coldness between them, she still felt the need to say it. All brides should hear it on their wedding day, shouldn’t they?
The dress was a tiered ball gown with a plunging neckline, making Marisol look ethereal. Her bodice was covered with lace, spanning down to the skirt of the gown. Small, intricate flower designs adorned the bottom half of her dress, making her look like she just walked off the set of a romance movie.
“Of course she looks beautiful. My girl is beauty incarnate,” her mother replied before Marisol could, leaning in to kiss her cheek fondly. She had seen her mother do this before, but it still surprised her every time she showed her sister any affection. The most Lola got was a side hug or a tap on the shoulder, but those were infrequent.
The rest of the hour came and went like a bird passing through the sky. Lola finished applying makeup and helped Vanessa with hers as well since the hairstylist—who was also the makeup artist—had spent far too long on the bride and left everyone else scrambling.
Once again, not her fault.
After intense scrutiny from her mother and being told to fix a smudge of lipstick, Luciana was happy with everyone’s appearance. The hairdresser left, and Lola swore she saw steam behind her at how fast she left the room.
“It’s time to get married, my baby girl!” Deep within her heart, her mother conjured up a few tears for Marisol who seemed put off by them. What should have been a joyous moment just seemed like a normal Friday. If anyone else noticed the less-than-stellar vibe pumping through the room, they didn’t comment.
