It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Chick Lit

by S. E. Babin

  “Reese?” Javi stared at me with an odd expression on his face. “You coming inside? We’re going to freeze out here.”

  After shaking myself out of my reverie, I followed him inside the restaurant.

  Focus, Reese, I told myself. I wanted to remember everything about dinner and the night so I could recount it to Zoey and Malcolm, and my hypothetical future children.

  Javi and I settled into a cozy booth near the kitchen. With the dim light of the low-hanging chandelier over our table, and the high, tufted walls of the booth, we were alone in our own little world. It was the perfect place for a proposal.

  I scanned the table for anything that looked out of the ordinary. Everything looked just as it should.

  “Reese!” Javi said loudly.

  I jerked my head in his direction. “Yes?”

  He frowned. “What’s going on with you tonight? I asked what you want to eat at least five times.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. I grabbed Javi’s hands. “I’m sorry; I’m all ears. Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

  As Javi began some boring tale about one of his clients, I flipped through a menu, my mind on anything but food.

  “Queso?”

  I looked up from the menu, my eyes meeting Javi’s. “What?”

  “Do you want queso?” Javi asked.

  I studied him. Maybe the ring would be in the queso! “Do you want queso?”

  Javi tilted his head to the side. “What’s going on?”

  I groaned in frustration. “Nothing’s going on. Get the queso.”

  “Okay, okay. One queso coming up,” our waiter snapped. “No need to have an attitude.”

  I jumped, not realizing he’d been standing there. The waiter tossed his head and stomped away.

  Javi whistled. “Remind me to give him a good tip.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You seem a little high-strung tonight. You want a margarita?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t need a drink,” I said, craning my head around the side of the booth. Where was the Mariachi band that had been playing the last time we’d come? Maybe they were off hiding somewhere until Javi got down on one knee?

  Our waiter returned with a tray of fresh chips, queso, and salsa. As soon as the waiter placed the bowls on the table, I dragged them to me before Javi could touch them.

  The waiter raised his eyebrows at me but directed his comments to Javi. “…I’ll give you another moment.”

  I resisted the urge to plunge my hands into the bowls of dip, instead opting to grab a chip and comb through the salsa, my face hovering only inches above it.

  No ring in the salsa. It would have been too easy to spot anyway. I stuffed the first chip into my mouth, grabbed another, and raked it through the cheese again and again.

  “Digging for treasure?” Javi asked, the corner of his mouth lifted.

  Ignoring him, I kept up my search. No ring in the cheese. I dropped the soggy chip and gave Javi a tight smile before pushing the bowls across the table.

  “Thanks for letting me eat some of the chips I ordered,” Javi joked.

  I guessed it was just as well that the ring wasn’t in the queso; how the hell would I have gotten all the cheese out of the tiny crevices? But it was okay—we still had to get through a whole meal and dessert.

  When our waiter returned again, we placed our food orders, and even though I’d turned down his offer of a margarita, Javi ordered one for me anyway, and a beer for himself.

  I forced myself to be present in the moment. I really was happy to be spending time with Javi. But I would be that much happier if I was spending time with him, and there was an engagement ring on my finger.

  Our food came, and the conversation remained light. I didn’t find a diamond solitaire in my arroz con pollo, so my only hope was dessert.

  When he’d emptied his plate, Javi wiped his mouth with his napkin, and placed it on the table. He looked at my own plate where I’d been absentmindedly pushing around rice.

  “You leave any room—?”

  “Yes!” I shouted before he could finish the question. “Waiter!”

  “Okay, Reese, that’s enough. What’s going on?” Javi asked sternly.

  “You said you had something important to ask me,” I blurted out. “It’s been driving me insane.”

  Javi burst out in laughter, and the velvety rumbling made me shiver. I felt the urge to demand the check and hightail it back to my place for some “quality time.”

  “That explains it,” Javi said. “I knew I should have just sprung it on you.”

  I leaned forward, gazing intensely at him. “Sprung what?”

  “Let’s discuss it over dessert.” Javi lifted his hand to call the waiter over.

  Finally.

  Part of me was relieved that the proposal was finally going to happen. The other part of me was anxious as to how everything would go down. Would there be cameras? What if something was stuck in my teeth?

  Crap. Maybe I should excuse myself to the bathroom to freshen up?

  “Fried ice cream for the señor y señorita,” the waiter announced as he put a giant white plate with two spoons in the middle of the table.

  The dish was one of the most decadent I’d ever seen. The plate was drizzled with zigzags of chocolate sauce and caramel. Petals of fried tortillas dusted in cinnamon and sugar surrounded a ball of ice cream in a cereal crust. The ice cream ball was topped with more chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry.

  “Alfonso really outdid himself tonight,” Javi said to the waiter, gesturing at our dessert.

  The waiter nodded. “He tried a new recipe for the crust to keep it crunchy longer.”

  I tried to contain myself. I really did. But something in my brain snapped as I ignored their inane chatter.

  I grabbed one of the spoons from the plate and dashed it through the ice cream crust again and again. Breathing hard, I only looked up when the ice cream ball was pulverized, and melting all over the plate.

  No ring. My shoulders slumped in defeat. Both Javi and the waiter looked at me as if I'd suggested we take off our clothes and streak through the restaurant.

  Javi recovered first and glanced up at the waiter. “Could you excuse us?”

  “Gladly,” the waiter muttered, drifting through a door marked “Staff Only.” No doubt he was going to gossip with his coworkers about the crazy girl with no table manners and erratic behavior.

  Javi waited until he was well out of earshot. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shot back. “I thought you were going to propose.”

  Javi’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Propose? Propose what?”

  Heat rose in my cheeks at Javi’s incredulity. “Marriage?” I squeaked.

  Javi threw back his head and let out a guffaw. His laughter attracted the attention of other patrons and servers, and continued to ring out until tears leaked from his eyes. He struggled to catch his breath.

  “Propose? After a month and a half?” he asked, face flushed.

  “It’s been two months,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster.

  “Reese, what on earth gave you the idea—never mind,” he said. “I know your brain works in mysterious ways.”

  He sobered when he realized I wasn’t laughing with him. In fact, I wished I was anywhere but sitting across from him, laughingstock of the restaurant.

  I stood up and grabbed my purse from the back of the chair, wiping a renegade tear with the other hand. “I’ll just call Malcolm to come and pick me up.”

  Javi stood as well and reached for my hand. “No way. I’m not letting Malcolm whisk you away in his little Leaf again. Sit back down for a second. I did want to ask you something important.”

  Since I no longer had an appetite, and knew I wasn’t getting engaged, I didn’t want to stay at the restaurant any longer than necessary. But I was curious as to what Javi wanted to ask me if it wasn�
�t about marriage.

  “So?” I prompted.

  Javi cleared his throat. “Every year my parents throw this big Christmas party. They invite the extended family, all their friends, and some bigwigs in the community. I’d love for you to come and meet everyone.”

  I stared at him. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to meet your parents?”

  “And the rest of my family: my abuela, Santi, my crazy uncle Diego, and his girlfriend, Carmen. And all of my cousins.”

  I let out a breath. It was the first time Javi had ever mentioned introducing me to his family. Even if we weren’t getting engaged at the moment, this was a step in that direction.

  “It’s kind of a big deal,” I said.

  “It is,” he agreed. “I never take anyone home unless it’s serious.”

  I managed to crack a grin. “So that means you’re serious about me.”

  Javi smiled at me and stroked the back of my hands with his thumbs. “It would seem that way. What do you say?”

  “I say, bring on abuela…and can we get another order of fried ice cream?”

  3

  A week later, just two days before the Delgado family Christmas party, Zoey and our friend, Nikki Valdez, lounged on my bed while I combed through my closet.

  “What am I supposed to wear to meet his family?” I asked, flinging clothes onto the floor. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “You’re overthinking this,” Zoey said. “Just be you.”

  I turned around and fixed her with a look. “So you’re suggesting I go to this party in my unicorn leggings and an ALF sweatshirt?”

  Zoey rolled her bright blue eyes. “Obviously not. I’m just saying that it’s not as serious as you’re making it out to be.”

  Nikki propped herself up on one elbow and ran a hand through her wavy, dark brown hair. “I don’t know, Zoey. She wants to make a good first impression. The clothes she shows up in are part of that impression.”

  “See? Thanks, Nikki.”

  Nikki gave me a nod in solidarity.

  “Now help me,” I commanded.

  If anyone was an expert at making a great first impression, it was Nikki. A lifestyle photographer by trade and total fashionista, she always looked like she belonged on a magazine cover. A couple of months ago, Nikki had helped me figure out a signature style for myself and dressed me for my ten-year high school reunion.

  It was her turn to roll her eyes, but she stood up. My phone clattered around on my nightstand. Zoey glanced at it and gave me a devilish grin.

  “It’s Javi,” she sang.

  “Ooh!” I exclaimed.

  Javi had been out of town for the last three days, working on a case for one of his clients. He was supposed to be coming back home the next day. I leapt over the pile of clothes at my feet and scooped up the phone.

  “Hello, boyfriend!”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nikki open her mouth and stick a finger in as if she were about to vomit. I ignored her; it wasn’t my fault that I could proclaim my love to the world while she had to hide her forbidden romance with a married man.

  “Hey Reese,” Javi replied. His voice sounded apprehensive, like he was about to deliver bad news. My mind jumped to conclusions. Was he in the hospital somewhere? Maybe he’d thought better of it and wanted to un-invite me to his parents’ party?

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. In my periphery, Zoey’s brow furrowed in concern.

  Javi chuckled. “You can be really perceptive when you want to be.”

  “I’ll ignore that barb. Just tell me what’s up.”

  Javi sighed, and I imagined him running a hand over his stubbled chin. “It’s nothing bad. It’s just…I’m going to be here longer than I thought.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Whatchu talkin' bout, Javi?”

  “We’ve run into some obstacles up here; I’m going to have to stay for a couple more days.”

  “Excuse me?” What did this mean for the party and meeting his parents?

  “I’ll still make it in time for the party—but only just. You’ll have to meet me there.”

  So I was just supposed to show up at Javi’s house without him and make his family fall in love with me on my own? I knew I was an acquired taste; I needed Javi to mediate my meeting his parents, and at the very least translate my Reese-isms.

  I frantically glanced at Zoey and Nikki. Zoey had a question in her eyes and Nikki mouthed, “What?”

  “Reese? You still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” And ready to throttle you through the phone.

  “So I’ll get off the plane and come straight to the party. I’ll send you the address.”

  “Why don’t I just come pick you up and we can go to the party together?” I asked desperately. I really didn’t want to show up at the Delgado house without Javi by my side.

  “Two reasons. One: You’re never on time—”

  “Hey!” I cut in.

  Javi ignored me. “If you pick me up from the airport we’ll get there after the party’s over. My parents really value punctuality so that’s a no-go. And, two: Santi’s been driving my car all week. I want to make sure it’s still in good condition.”

  “But—”

  “You don’t even have to go in before I get there. I’ll meet you outside, okay?”

  I sighed. “Okay.”

  There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the phone before Javi said anything else. “Look, babe, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you on Saturday, and everything will be fine.”

  “Have a good night,” I said glumly.

  “Sweet dreams. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  I clicked off the call and faced Zoey. Nikki was preoccupied with my closet. “So, Javi’s not getting home until right before the party. He wants me to meet him there,” I said.

  Zoey pulled a face. “Well, that’s not ideal, but what can you do?”

  “Zoey, you know you want to go to this party with me,” I pleaded.

  “Reese, I wasn’t even invited! Besides, meeting Hayden’s parents the first time was nerve-wracking enough, and I’m actually in a relationship with him.”

  “But you’re in a relationship with me,” I wheedled.

  Nikki turned back to us. “I’ll tell you what she can do—she can look fabulous. So fabulous that Javi will never want to leave her again, and that his parents will be suitably impressed.”

  “See? That sounds good,” Zoey said. “And if you take a gift, that’ll show you’re thoughtful.”

  “A gift?” I exclaimed.

  “Just a little token that says, ‘Thanks for inviting me to your home. My parents didn’t raise me in a cave,’” Nikki said. “It doesn’t have to be anything big.”

  “A rotisserie chicken?” I asked.

  Nikki pursed her lips before answering. “I meant more along the lines of a bottle of wine.”

  Zoey nodded. “I took Hayden’s parents a nice bottle. They really enjoyed it. I’ll see if I can remember what brand it was.”

  Nikki clapped her hands. “So there you go. With us on your side you can’t go wrong.”

  Nikki and Zoey may have been convinced I was well on my way to winning over the Delgados, but I wasn’t so sure.

  4

  “Zoey, seriously, pick up! I’m standing here looking like a dumbass in the middle of the liquor store because I forgot which wine you told me to buy. Call me back!” I hissed into my phone.

  It was Saturday evening, and I was supposed to be at the Delgado homestead in less than an hour. At the moment, I was walking aimlessly up and down the aisles of a local liquor store because it happened to be on the way, and I was determined to prove Javi wrong about my inability to be on time. I was trying to take Nikki and Zoey’s advice to heart by bringing a gift to the Delgados. Unfortunately, when Zoey had told me the brand of wine she’d given Hayden’s parents, I didn’t write it down because I just knew I’d remember it.

  And o
f course I didn’t.

  An overweight man wearing a wife-beater covered in suspicious stains and baggy basketball shorts ambled up my aisle and stopped next to me.

  “Looking for something in particular?” he muttered around the toothpick in his mouth.

  I pointedly looked him up and down. “Do you work here?”

  “No.”

  He stayed where he was, not saying a word, and I began to get uncomfortable.

  I snatched a bottle of José Cuervo from the shelf and brandished it in order to get him to leave. “Ah! Here it is.”

  The man grunted and gave a satisfied nod. “That’s the good stuff. Cheap and it’ll get you tanked.”

  I frowned. I had come into the store with the intention of getting wine, but why not get some kind of spirit like tequila? Maybe Javi’s parents could add it to punch.

  “Maybe I should get something a little more expensive?” I wondered aloud.

  I looked at the price tags of the other bottles on the shelf. Way too rich for my blood. “Nope, this’ll have to do. Is it weird to just show up to meet someone’s parents with a bottle of tequila? Should I get a plant or something to go with it?”

  My new friend planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t ya get a mixer?”

  “Huh?”

  “A mixer. Like strawberry or mango.”

  “Good idea…” I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Name’s Jay,” he said with a nod. “Don’t get too crazy tonight.”

  “Back ‘atcha,” I said to his retreating form.

  A moment later, I was studying the mixers on the shelf below the tequila when a thought occurred to me. The man had said his name was Jay. The Phone Perv was named Jay. And though I wasn’t one to stereotype, my wife-beater-wearing friend gave off a Phone Perv vibe. Was Jay really that common of a name?

  I shook my head to clear it. I didn’t have time for distractions; I was a woman on a mission. I looked back at my choices for margarita mixers. Classic lime was boring. Mango might be a little too exotic. Strawberry could be fun—its coloring made it festive, and who didn’t like strawberry?