Big Chicas Don't Cry(36)

It was weird hearing Adrian talk about something so personal. And yet, it wasn’t weird at all. It felt comfortable. Natural.

“What about your parents?” I asked, suddenly wanting to know more about him and his life outside of work. “Do you get to visit them often?”

Even in the low light, I could see his jawline tic. “No.”

“Why not?” I was a reporter. Of course I wasn’t going to let it go.

“Well, my dad wasn’t too thrilled that I took the job with the News-Press. He wanted me to go work with him at the family business.”

The alcohol or sugar high made me brave. “Adrian, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” he said as he took our empty plates and threw them in the nearby trash can.

“Why did you take the job? Didn’t you have a big book deal or something? Just seems like such a big . . . change.”

He sat back down. “My second book tanked.”

“You wrote a second book?”

He laughed. “Exactly. I had spent up my advance—buying an apartment in DC will do that quickly—and with the sales so low, there was no way the publisher was going to give me another contract at that level again. I couldn’t think of a way to reinvent myself or the books I wanted to write, so I had to look for a job. I already knew there was no way I was going to go work for my dad, so I called up a few contacts, and my old editor told me about the opening here. It was what I was looking for at the time, I guess. My dad has been pissed at me ever since. I call my mother every week, but I’m not ready to face him just yet.”

“That’s too bad. I talk to my family every day and see them every weekend. Of course, they only live about five minutes away from my place.”

“Do you have a big family?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Massive. I’m pretty blessed because my grandparents are still around. So is my great-grandmother. We call her Welita.”

“Short for abuelita, right?”

“Yep. She’s a real firecracker, and she makes the best tamales in the world. Well, technically, we make the tamales and she supervises to make sure we get her masa recipe right.”

“I haven’t had homemade tamales in years. You need to bring some to work sometime.”

I shook my head. “Sorry. Our family’s tamales are only made on Christmas Eve morning. Maybe if you’re still around in December, I might be able to sneak you a couple.”

“I’m going to remember you said that,” he said with a laugh.

Although I’d been annoyed earlier that Adrian had latched on to me, he was turning out to be not such a bad guy.

“For what it’s worth, you’re way cooler than I’ve given you credit for.”

“Thanks. And, for what it’s worth, you deserve more than a guy who breaks up with you right before Christmas.”

And to my surprise, it turned out that it was worth quite a lot.





Chapter Nineteen


SELENA


I didn’t mind the whispers so much as I minded the looks.

First, there was genuine surprise. Followed by obvious curiosity. And then, finally, delightful approval.

All because a very handsome stranger had shown up with pizza and beer to the Inland Valley Civic Center. A stranger who was now helping my family get ready for Rachel’s quincea?era the next day.

I looked over at Nathan, who was über focused on wrapping a plastic fork and knife together with a teal paper napkin. “Selena, does the fork go on top of the knife or vice versa?” he asked out loud.

“On top,” Gracie and Erica answered in unison.

We were all sitting together with Rachel at a round table inside one of the civic center’s banquet rooms. Our group was in charge of wrapping 150 sets of forks and knives. My mom and tías were busy in the opposite corner assembling centerpieces. I could feel their stares burning a hole in the back of my head.

It was going to be such a long night.

Nathan had called me a few hours earlier to let me know he’d wrapped up his meetings early and wanted to meet for dinner. But when I told him I couldn’t because I had to help get things ready for the party, he asked if we needed another set of hands.

I only gave him the address because I honestly thought he had been joking.

“So, Nathan. Is this the most exciting Friday night you’ve ever had or what?” Erica teased.

He looked at me and winked. “Second most exciting.”

“What was the first?” Rachel asked innocently.

I coughed up the swig of beer I’d just taken. Erica laughed her ass off. And poor Gracie turned a shade of red I’d never seen before.

I was sure my complexion was probably in the same Pantone family. It didn’t help that Nathan looked pretty pleased with himself. That is, until I kicked him under the table.

He made a face at me before answering Rachel. “My most exciting Friday night had to be the night . . . I went to my very first Cubs game. I was eleven years old.”

We all looked at Rachel, and she seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to tying the bundles we’d created with strips of white ribbon. Then she made me choke on my beer again when she asked Nathan if he wanted to come to her quince.

“Rachel, that’s very sweet of you, but Nathan is flying back to New York tomorrow afternoon,” I managed to say.