by Tif Marcelo
Trenton: Downstairs.
On my way. Her face broke into what she knew was a silly grin. The worry about the flan and the business fell away. After their one night together, Pearl had expected an awkwardness to ensue. That he would’ve stopped calling, or that she would’ve found a reason not to take his calls. But their relationship held steady. They were still good friends. Good friends who happened to have slept with each other.
Admittedly, Pearl was content without a label. Now with a professional line in the sand between her and her sisters, she didn’t want more pressure. The fact that he was her best friend’s brother was a pressure point in itself.
Barefoot, she flew down to the first floor and unlocked the front door. Trenton stepped into the foyer, dressed in his work clothes today: dress shirt and slacks. His smile was bright and infectious, and Pearl reacted as she always did in his presence—like a giddy little girl in front of her crush.
He lifted a to-go coffee cup in one hand and a little brown bag in another. “I bring sustenance.”
“Aw, thank you.” She rolled onto her tiptoes and kissed him. He smelled like a fresh shower and toothpaste, and she savored the moment and the ease. She took the coffee and bag from him. “This is a surprise.”
“Was down for a meeting in the area, and I thought I’d pass by.”
“On a weekend?”
“I work when my boss works. But I’m still on for coming to Pio’s party this afternoon.”
“Good, because you know what we have to do.”
They hadn’t yet come out to Kayla. Her call schedule was hectic, and this was the kind of news one didn’t reveal over the phone.
Okay, so maybe Pearl was being a scaredy-cat, too. What would she have said?
Hey, so your brother and I hooked up. Whoops!
Or: Know that crush I’ve had on your brother since we were kids? Well, yay, we’re sleeping together.
Or: Remember the time you said it would be gross for me and your brother to get together? Guess what!
His face darkened. “I know. How about we talk to her about us after Pio’s party.”
“All right.” She exhaled, though it didn’t do anything for her nervousness. Because what was us? They’d expressed the nebulous idea about being there for one another, of “doing us.” But they hadn’t dated “for real” before they slept together. Technically, they were still at the beginning stages of a relationship.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” Trenton said.
“Oh. No, you didn’t.” She heaved a breath. “I’m running on fumes. It’s all adding up, this pressure to do good not only for Daphne, but for me.”
“You’ve got this. You have me. You have your sisters.”
“Uh . . . no.” She looked askance at Mari’s door. She lowered her voice. “It’s precarious. I’m competition.”
“I would not categorize this as a competition. I’m a hundred percent sure they don’t want you to fail. If you don’t want to ask Mari for help, then ask Jane.”
“Jane has her own issues at the moment . . .” She didn’t want to talk about it now, not because she hadn’t thought of it, because she had, but because she wasn’t sure how to broach the fact that she wished she had someone to help guide her. “I think it’s just going to take some time.” She turned her face up to him and channeled optimism. “But I love the coffee and the treat. Thank you.”
His lips lifted into a smile. “Call you later?”
“I can’t wait.” Her insides brightened at the thought. She loved that there would be a later, that despite all the effort of these computerized systems to find her a match, hers had come through friendship.
He kissed her on the cheek before heading out the door. With a final wave from the driver’s seat, he pulled away from the curb, leaving Pearl to stare at the empty space and relish in the fact that despite all her struggles these last couple of months, she had him.
A black Audi slid into the spot, snapping Pearl out of her thoughts. Reid Quaid stepped out in dark glasses, a plain white tee, and jeans. He grabbed a bag of groceries from the back seat and tucked it under his arm.
Pearl’s interest was piqued. He was back for the weekend. Normally, Pearl would have been up in her sister’s business; she would’ve begged for details. Did Mari think Reid was datable? If so, would he be the one?
Pearl’s tummy hollowed out. How much had she missed? Would her sisters still share with her if something big happened in their family? And if ever Mari were to get married, would Pearl be part of the planning?
Would Pearl be in the wedding?
Of course she would.
Wouldn’t she?
twenty-two
Mood: “If You Leave” by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark
Pearl’s and Trenton’s voices in the building’s foyer brought Mari to her front door and she peeked through the peephole. She had been curious as to what her sister was up to the last couple of days, now in the transition of setting up Pearls of Joy, Inc. She’d passed by Pearl’s former office yesterday and had paused at the stark space, now empty of her sister’s touches, of her blinged-out pillows, her vases burgeoning with fresh flowers, and her trademark piece: an impressionistic and bold canvas painting she’d picked up from a street vendor at the Washington DC Art Festival.
Aside from what Mari had deduced—okay, she’d been stalking Pearl’s personal accounts online, too—nothing seemed amiss. Pearl gave no indication that something had significantly changed in her life. Pearl gave no clue that her relationship with Mari had cooled significantly, that days had passed since they’d texted one another aside from their sister group text. Pearl’s tone in her social media posts was still as relaxed and positive as ever, without revealing an inkling of the stress running through the shop.
So Mari drank in Pearl’s interaction with Trenton, thirsty for a glimpse of her sister’s true emotions despite their muffled and indiscernible conversation through her closed apartment door. She witnessed Trenton’s kiss, a sweet one, so loving it forced Mari to look away, to walk to the window and watch Pearl’s new man getting into his car.
A month ago, Mari would have known when Pearl and Trenton had decided to make their fake relationship real. They would have talked about it—the teasing would have been relentless.
An Audi drove into the empty spot Trenton’s car had occupied, snapping Mari out of her nostalgia.
Reid was home.
Mari stared at her phone and willed it to ring, even while in the middle of mixing up the batter of a chocolate sheet cake for Pio’s birthday this afternoon. Forty minutes had passed since she’d backed away from her window, letting the sheers fall in between her and the view of Reid’s back. Mari had promised herself one hour. An hour of restraint before throwing herself at Reid. Make one dish, post one picture on the Rings & Roses Instagram account, and then call him.
And, geez, have some chill.
Chill, she didn’t have. Instead, the gamut of emotions invaded her: anticipation and excitement that they’d pick up where they’d left off, but also a melancholy that their relationship had an expiration date. Despite her growing feelings for him, he called Atlanta home, and Mari wasn’t about to get in a relationship with a guy who would take her away from her life, not even one as kind as Reid. Logistically, the distance would be a problem. Emotionally—well, that was another issue.
For now, she pushed these concerns aside and focused on the positives. He’d given her a rose.
Mari hummed, surprising herself. God, she was turning into a sap. Grinning, she poured the batter into a sheet cake pan, tapped it against the counter to eliminate those dang air bubbles. Her mind wandered to the guest list: three sisters, Pio, Trenton and Kayla Young. A group of eight of Pio’s friends and their parents.
You can invite Reid.
She shook her head at her conscience. Kid parties were personal, and while her sisters knew about Reid, it didn’t mean their relationship was bring-home-for-family-parties worthy.<
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She stuck the pan into her preheated oven, setting the timer for fifty minutes. Oven door, and subject, closed.
One hour turned into an hour and a half, and Mari still didn’t have a picture to post on Instagram. She was standing on her couch, holding the phone level to take a picture of one of Just Cakes’s cupcakes that they’d purchased for Pio’s party. Her planned caption: Carolina from Just Cakes not only makes your wedding confections, but your birthday ones, too!
Except, despite dozens of shots snapped with her phone, not one was of any quality remotely close to Pearl’s previous photos.
“Damn it,” she said aloud, when she realized the shot she just took captured a lean shadow created by her body blocking the light. She grunted, eenie-meenie-miney-moed a filter, clicked to post it, and called it a day.
Mari took her previous statement back: social media was hard. Pearl had made it look so easy.
She sure missed that pain in the butt sister of hers.
Finally, Mari untied her apron and jumped into her flats, and before she could talk herself out of it, went out of her back door to knock on Reid’s.
She halted in her tracks. Her body softened.
Reid was already in her backyard, fastening the rope to the top of Pio’s piñata. “Oh, hey. Looks like a party today, so I thought I’d help. That’s a pretty high branch.” He pointed up at their trusty oak tree.
Mari dropped her head but couldn’t keep herself from grinning. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slung a piñata up there. I think I could’ve handled it.”
“I never doubted that. But since I’m here, why not make myself useful, right?”
She walked up to him and watched his fingers tie the rope into an intricate knot. “That’s an impressive knot there, Mr. Quaid.”
“I can do more with my hands. Besides cook and tie knots.” He grinned, sly. “I also play the guitar. And I’m a badass bowling king. Now where’s your ladder?”
“Over there.” She gestured to the fence and laughed, holding the piñata. “Who knew you were so talented?”
“I could tell you, if we spent more time together.” She held the ladder still as he climbed it to the fourth rung and then slung the rope up. One try was all it took. He descended holding the rope. “Where should I tie the loose end?”
“Around the trunk of the tree is just fine.”
After he tied it with expert precision, he went to the patio table, to Jane’s basket of activities. He picked up the package of balloons and tore it open.
“Thank you,” she said, watching him stretch the balloon out straight. “For helping out, and for the rose.”
He smiled and stuck the open end of the balloon in his mouth.
“Reid?”
The balloon inflated as he blew, cheeks puffing out. He twisted the end into a knot, then batted the balloon to Mari so it hit her on the forehead. “Yeah, Marisol?”
“What do you want from me?” At the sound of her words, Mari laughed. “That sounds terrible how I just said it, but the rose, the patio conversations, you helping me today. I don’t want there to be any confusion between us.”
“I’m not confused.” He smiled. “And I think I’ve been pretty straightforward. I like spending time with you. It’s easy to be around you—I don’t have to guess what you’re thinking and feeling because you simply tell me. Coming here, to your patio, is relief. Look at me, I’m blowing up balloons for a birthday party. When was the last time I did something so . . . family? I can’t even remember. My feet feel like they’re on solid ground when I’m around you. So even if you don’t want to or aren’t ready for anything more, that is truly fine with me.”
Her cheeks warmed, but this time with appreciation.
“But my expectation?” he continued. “Only one thing—honesty. I mentioned a near stroll down the aisle. I don’t want to be fooled, ever again. If I wear out my welcome, will you tell me?”
“Of course.” She swallowed back giddiness. “Well, I . . . like spending time with you, too.”
“Good.” He grabbed another balloon from the bag and made like he was going to blow into it, then paused. “Can you just tell me one thing?”
“Okay.” She fiddled with a balloon.
“If my sister wasn’t your client, and if we’d met by happenstance, would it be this complicated? Would you have simply shown me where the Whistling Pig was? Would you have said yes to dinner?”
Mari grinned and reflected on his question, on her love life the last ten years, or the lack of it. What exactly was she available for? A commitment when she had no room for one? A relationship that would’ve put any man second to her business? Anything beyond—the idea of marriage and children of her own—was a dream that maybe, just maybe, wasn’t in her cards. “I liken being a wedding planner to being a teacher, how they’re mothers to dozens of children—I live the happily ever after almost every week through my clients or my sisters’ clients. Whenever my clients fight, I feel their anxiety. Their joys are mine. I’d like to think I’d take their same risks. But—”
“You don’t believe in happily ever after.”
“No, that’s not it. Of course I believe in it. I just don’t think that mine has to match theirs. I have my own history and expectations. I’m not an easy woman, Reid. This is all so cute and exciting because you’re only here on the weekends. I’m your next-door neighbor, and you see me in my profession as the beacon of couplehood, but that’s not all me.
“Your sister is important to me, too, and that’s a big factor in this.” She tripped on her thoughts, seeing a window where she could’ve given him a clue of what she felt about Brad. “I want for her to feel open and comfortable, always.”
“Likewise.”
She didn’t know how else to proceed, where the line was between fact and bias. Where her own experience had clouded her professional judgment. Where client confidentiality stopped, and where friendship began.
No, she couldn’t tell Reid anything yet. Not until she’d spoken to Hazel first. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want to lose her trust. Especially after the pregnancy news that I was supposed to have kept secret.”
“I think she’s already forgotten about it. And knowing my sister, she wouldn’t mind . . . us.” He brushed a leaf off her shoulder and let his hand linger. His thumb grazed the line of her jaw. She leaned into it, savoring the touch. A buzz of electricity traveled between them. The draw, and his smile, and his amazing ability to make her feel like right now was all that mattered—it was undeniable. But he retrieved his hand as if remembering his place and blew into the balloon until it was taut, then knotted it.
“Here’s a garbage bag.” She pulled a clear bag out of a box and opened it wide. “We’re having the kids do a balloon game where they sit on and pop as many balloons as they can in a minute. The one who pops the most balloons wins.”
“Sounds like fun.” He stuffed the first balloon into the bag. Fiddled with another balloon. “Marisol, you think too highly of me. Everyone has a history that has shaped them.”
“Yes, but I think I still have to work through mine. I set rules for myself, and in the last couple of weeks, I’ve realized the rules were all wrong. I’ve let these rules hold me back.”
“So don’t let them. Jump in.”
“Not that easy.”
“Yes, it is.” He blew up another balloon. “Know this, though: categorizing yourself as a tough woman to deal with isn’t a deterrent.” He tied a knot in the balloon and stuffed it into the bag. “But I’ll respect your boundary. No more pressure from me, except, damn, de la Rosa, I’m beating you at this balloon game. You’d better catch up.”
“Is this how it’s gonna go?” She stuck the end of the balloon into her mouth, beaming from his dare, from him. “You’re on, Quaid.”
“I’m not doing a dang thing until you tell me the truth. You like him. Like more than a little. Like enough to date.” Jane was visibly giddy, chatty while Mari iced the cake. With an hour l
eft before Pio’s party, she said with a hoarse voice, “Be honest. I saw you guys. You were right outside my kitchen window.”
“You were spying,” Mari said.
“No. I was cooking.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, yes, okay, so I was spying.”
“I was there with Jane, and I concur. Though, you guys were loud enough.” Pearl said at the doorway, arms overflowing with Nerf water guns. “Ate Jane, where do you want this?”
“Outside, please. And tell Pio not to play with them.”
“You’ve got it. And hold that thought, I want to do the sprinkles.” Pearl passed them and exited through Mari’s French doors to their backyard.
“Speaking of, let me go find the candles.” Jane marched toward Mari’s front door. “I can’t keep my list straight. It’s this decongestant, I’m walking around in a fog.”
Pearl returned and grabbed the sprinkles from the cupboard. “Ate Mari, Reid seems like a really nice guy.”
“I know. He’s patient and persistent all at once. And you? Things with Trenton are good, yes?”
“How did you—”
“This is a small building.” She slid the cake to her left, and Pearl uncapped the sprinkles and dumped half the bottle into her palm. “I’ve always liked him. A little part of me wants to give him the third degree though, just to make sure he knows how to treat you.”
“Same here, to Reid, that is.”
Mari’s heart squeezed. She braved the moment by addressing the big elephant in the room. “So how . . . are things, with work, with Bling?”
Pearl had covered most of the top of the cake with sprinkles. “Good.” A pause. “Great, actually.” She took out her phone. “Oops, a call, I’ll take this outside, but I’ll be down in time for the party. Tell Ate Jane that if she needs anything else, to text me, okay?”
Except Pearl’s phone hadn’t buzzed, hadn’t rung. Mari felt her sister tearing herself away, running in the opposite direction.