making a mistake,” he says, wagging his finger and shaking his head.
“Stop. You look like one of those bobblehead dolls people stick on their dashboards.”
I wish I could tell him the whole truth. But if I do, he’ll try to run Aaron over with one of Tío Manny’s taco delivery trucks and ask his brothers to be his alibi. Guilt and love mix in my heart, and I give Hugo a tight hug.
“Don’t worry,” I say, more a prayer than reassurance. “It’s all going to work out.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jo
I stop in front of the original Manny’s Tacos location, which still stands proudly in downtown Los Angeles. Of course, it’s gotten bigger over the years as the business has grown, taking over a patio and space that used to belong to a small café that shut down after the owners retired. Tío Manny and Tía Bea not only make the best Mexican food in the world, but they’re shrewd businesspeople.
I’ve been to most of the taco restaurants my uncle and aunt own, but this is my favorite. It holds some of my best memories from childhood and adolescence, having hosted so many family meals and celebrations. It’s where we sang “Happy Birthday” on every birthday and toasted to another amazing year to come. My brothers and cousins showed off college acceptance letters and fist-pumped over job offers and career opportunities.
Some of the events were for me, too—when I landed my first big client…when I had enough clients to turn a profit…and when I started to make so much that I could begin to help fund the college scholarship my family started ten years ago to help others who are less fortunate.
I’m definitely going to star in…something…tonight. I doubt we’ll be celebrating much, though. At least I won’t, not in my heart, where it counts.
Inhaling deeply, I push the door open and step inside.
Becky the hostess smiles at me. She’s been with the restaurant since the day it opened, and I adore her.
“Hi, Jo! Everyone’s here. In the private party room, as usual.” Her gaze drops to my feet, and she sighs. “You have the hottest shoes. So in-charge and sexy.”
Normally a compliment like this would send a zing of pleasure through me. But right now, I’m too tense to feel anything but a grim determination to get through the evening—and hopefully convince everyone I really, really want to marry Aaron. That’s why I’m still in my super power ensemble that radiates “Don’t question my decisions.”
Still, my private issues aren’t her problem. I manage a smile. “Thanks, Becky.”
I weave my way through the packed restaurant. The air smells of spices, meat and fresh tortillas. Even though the restaurant name makes it sound like it only serves tacos, it has everything Mexican, and the absolute best margaritas.
The party room is enclosed in frosted glass. I push the door and step inside, ready for exuberant hugs and kisses, lots of comments and questions about how I’m doing. My family’s greetings wouldn’t be complete without them.
Mama sees me first, and—sure enough—she envelops me in a huge hug, placing kisses on my cheeks. I let her hold me in the comforting embrace, inhaling her soap and shampoo. She’s dressed in a gorgeous pink Armani I bought to congratulate her on becoming regional manager at the jewelry store chain she’s been working at since forever. The sight makes me happy. Mama deserves pretty clothes, but she’s always reluctant to spend the money on herself, preferring to do so on us—her children—or sock everything away for retirement.
“How’s my baby?” she says, finally pulling back, her dark eyes warm and inquisitive as she looks at me.
I’m pregnant with Edgar’s baby, who also happens to not love me, while being forced to marry Aaron, who I despise, but other than that… “I’m doing great.”
“You’re so skinny, Jo!” Tía Bea says, hustling over. She and Tío Manny are in Manny’s Tacos T-shirts and jeans, their unofficial uniform. She pulls me tight against her soft body. “You gotta eat some food. We have plenty of your favorite guacamole.” She kisses my cheeks. “And I’ve been meaning to say thank you for the hair spray you got for me! No more frizz!” She turns her head this way and that, showing off.
“I’m glad it helped.” Battling frizz is her thing. She says her hair hates her, but I think the curls look super cute.
“Jo!” Papa kisses me on the cheeks, then hugs me. His thinning hair neatly combed, he’s in a plain button-down shirt