Big Chicas Don't Cry(39)

He tried to pull me toward him, but I wouldn’t budge. “You know this trial is a big deal. When I’m not in court, I need to be getting ready for court. I’m sorry I forgot. Besides, I didn’t think you really wanted to go.”

I hadn’t at first. But then I had called Welita a few weeks ago to ask what kind of bread she used in her capirotada recipe. She kept telling me how excited she was about the party and that she couldn’t wait to see me. Even after all these years, Welita still knew how to lay on the guilt. So, I had changed my mind.

Getting Esteban to agree to go had been easier than expected. I knew he was feeling his own guilt for making me say no to Julissa, and he’d been bringing me home presents every day since our big fight.

A sour realization struck me then. Had he only said yes to the party because he never had intended on going?

I accused him of exactly that.

“Of course not!” he insisted. “I really did forget. Besides, you could’ve gone without me.”

I threw up my hands. “Ugh. That’s not the point. I told you I needed you there to help me face my dad. You said you would go with me.”

This time he was able to wrap his arms around my waist and hug me. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. We’ll spend tomorrow afternoon together, and I’ll take you shopping and then to dinner. Anything you want, anywhere you want to go.”

Esteban kissed me, but I didn’t kiss him back.

I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t buy or kiss his way out of everything. I wanted to tell him that I felt like I didn’t exist anymore in this marriage. I wanted to tell him that if he wasn’t careful, his best friend could steal me away.

“Really? You’re really going to be mad at me because you missed a party you probably didn’t even want to go to?”

I pulled away and took a deep breath. “It’s not just about the party. Sometimes I feel like I’m not a priority to you.”

“What are you talking about? You are my world. You are my only priority.”

“You know that’s not true. At least not anymore.”

He looked as if I’d slapped him. “Marisol, everything I do is for you.”

“I know. I know. But sometimes it would be nice if instead of doing everything, you were just here with me.”

“Is this about the trial? You know it’s not going to last forever. Things will go back to normal.”

I didn’t want normal. Not anymore.

But I knew I couldn’t make him understand. At least not tonight. So I headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To bake.”

“Wearing that?”

I looked down at my dress. “No, silly. I’ll put an apron on.”

But when I got to the kitchen and pulled the apron out of the drawer, I put it right back in.

Suddenly, I didn’t care about my dress. Or the apron.

I eyed my phone, which I’d placed on the counter. The urge to text Erica overwhelmed me. Then I remembered that she was probably at the party. Selena and Gracie would be there too. And although I’d convinced myself that I was ready to see them, I wasn’t so sure anymore if I was ready to talk to them.

I thought about calling Chris. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since the day we went to lunch. It had almost been a relief that he hadn’t dropped by again. But the longer I went without talking to him, the more I wished that he’d at least send a text.

And then what?

No, there was no one I could call. So I opened my recipe box and pulled out the card for a spinach-and-bacon quiche. If I couldn’t sleep, then I’d make sure I’d have something to eat when the sun came up.





Chapter Twenty-One


GRACIE


It turned out that Tony and I were both busier than we’d thought.

So instead of getting together on Monday, we had to do our brainstorming right before the committee meeting on Friday. He suggested we go to the Denny’s diner down the street from the school, and I agreed.

I rushed home after school to change into a pair of jeans and a red peasant blouse that I knew hid the parts of my body I was self-conscious about. I “borrowed” some mascara and lipstick from Rachel’s makeup bag and tried to do something with my hair but couldn’t figure out how to work her hot rollers. After fifteen minutes of getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror. My sweaty forehead, ruddy cheeks, and frizzy hair made me want to cry.

“You can’t lose fifty pounds or make yourself over in thirty minutes,” I muttered to my reflection.

So I washed my face, put my hair in a ponytail, and drove to Denny’s. I wasn’t going to kill myself trying to impress Tony. I wouldn’t let him have that control over me again.

At 4:33 p.m. I walked into the restaurant and looked for Tony. I didn’t see him, so I got a table and sat down and waited.

Dear God, please don’t let me have a panic attack. Amen.

But with every minute he was late, my anxiety climbed. And the more it seemed possible that he’d stood me up. I was such an idiot.

I finished my coffee, left a couple of dollars on the table, and grabbed my keys out of my purse.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” Tony slid into the booth across from me. “I wanted to take a shower and change, but then I got a call, and it took me longer than I expected. Sorry for making you wait here for me.”