Once more, Aaron Blackford wasn’t wrong.
I probably was a little delusional. And he didn’t even know about the lie. My lie. Not that he’d ever do. But that didn’t change the facts. I needed someone, anyone, but not him, not Aaron, to fly to Spain with me for Isabel’s wedding. Because (A) I was the bride’s sister and maid of honor. (B) My ex, Daniel, was the groom’s brother and best man. And as of yesterday, I had learned that he was happily engaged. Something that my family had been hiding from me. (C) If you didn’t count the few and pretty unsuccessful dates I had gone on, I had been technically single for roughly six years. Ever since I had left Spain and moved to the States, which had happened shortly after my one and only relationship exploded in my face. Something that every single attendee—because there were no secrets in families like mine and much less in small towns like the one I had come from—knew about and pitied me for. And (D) there was my lie.
The lie.
The one I had sort of fed my mother and consequently the whole Martín clan because privacy and boundaries did not exist when it came to us. Hell, by now, my lie was probably on the Announcements page of the local newspaper.
Catalina Martín, finally, not single. Her family is happy to announce that she will bring her American boyfriend to the wedding. Everyone is invited to come and witness the most magical event of the decade.
Because that was what I had done. Right after the news of Daniel’s engagement had slipped past my mother’s lips and reached my ears through the speaker of my phone, I had said that I’d be bringing someone too. No, not just someone. I’d said—lied, deceived, falsely announced—that I’d be bringing my boyfriend.
Who technically did not exist.
Yet.
Okay, fine, or ever. Because Aaron was right. Finding a date in such a short amount of time was perhaps a little optimistic. Believing I’d find someone to pretend to be my made-up boyfriend was probably delusional. But accepting that Aaron was my only choice and taking him up on his offer? That was straight-up insanity.
“I see it’s finally seeping in.” Aaron’s words brought me back to the present, and I found his blue eyes aimed at me. “I’ll let you come to terms with it on your own. Just let me know when you do.”
My lips pursed. And when I felt my cheeks burn again—because how lame was I for him, Aaron Blackford, who had never even liked me a tiny little bit, to pity me enough to offer himself to be my date?—I crossed my arms over my chest and averted my eyes from those two icy and ruthless spots.
“Oh, and, Catalina?”
“Yeah?” The word left my lips weakly. Ugh, pathetic.
“Try not to be late to our ten o’clock meeting. It’s not cute anymore.”
My gaze shot to him, a huff stuck in my throat.
Jerk.
I swore right then and there that one day, I’d find a ladder high enough, climb it, and chuck something really hard at his infuriating face.
One year and eight months. That was how long I had
endured him. I had been counting, biding my time.
Then, with nothing more than a nod, he turned around, and I watched him walk away. Dismissed until further notice.
“Okay, that was …” Rosie’s voice trailed off, not ending the statement.
“Maddening? Insulting? Bizarre?” I offered, bringing my hands to my face.
“Unexpected,” she countered. “And interesting.”
Looking at her between my fingers, I watched the corners of her lips tug up.
“Your friendship has been revoked, Rosalyn Graham.”
She chuckled. “You know you don’t mean that.”
I didn’t; she’d never get rid of me.
“So …” Rosie linked her arm with mine and ushered me down the hallway. “What are you going to do?”
A shaky exhale left my mouth, taking all my energy with it. “I … I don’t have the slightest idea.”
But I knew something for sure: I was not taking Aaron Blackford up on his offer. He wasn’t my only option, and he surely wasn’t my best one either. Hell, he wasn’t my anything. Especially not my date to my sister’s wedding.