The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 22

“That’s okay.”

Is it?

If it was really okay, I could tell my mother. I had the chance to end this lying circus, bury all that regret somewhere

deep and dark, and breathe. I could tell her that, yes, I was no longer in a relationship, and consequently, I was no

longer taking my—nonexistent—boyfriend home. That I’d attend the wedding alone. And that it was okay.

&nbs

p; She had said it herself. And maybe she was right. I just needed to believe she was.

Taking a deep breath, I felt a surge of courage and made up my mind.

I’ll come clean.

Attending alone wouldn’t be fun. The pity looks and whispers of a past I didn’t want to think of would certainly suck.

And that was putting it lightly. But I had no options.

Aaron’s scowling face popped up in my mind. Unannounced. Definitely unwelcome.

No. I kicked it out.

He hadn’t even mentioned it again since Monday. It had been four days. Not that if he had, it would have changed

anything. I was on my own. But I had no reason to believe he had been serious.

And it was okay; Mamá had said so.

I opened my mouth to follow up with my decision of growing the hell up and to stop acting like a compulsive liar for

something I should have the maturity to face alone, but of course, luck wasn’t on my side. Because my mother’s next

words immediately killed whatever I was about to say.

“You know”—the way her voice sounded should have tipped me on what was about to come—“every person is

different. We all have our own pace to put back together our lives after going through something like that. Some

people need more time than others. And if you haven’t managed to get there yet, then there’s nothing to be ashamed

of. Daniel is engaged while you are not. But that isn’t important. You can come to the wedding alone, Lina.”

My stomach dropped to my feet at the thought.

“I’m not saying Daniel needed to put his life back together in the first place because, well, he jumped off that boat,

unscathed.”

And wasn’t that the damn truth? Something that, on top of everything, would make things even worse. He had merrily

continued his life while I had … I had … gotten stuck. And everybody there would know. Every single person attending

that wedding would know.

As if reading my mind, my mother uttered my thoughts, “Everybody knows, cariño. And everybody understands. You

went through a lot.”

Everybody understands?

No, she was wrong. Everybody thought they understood. Nobody did. They didn’t realize that all those pobrecita, poor

little Linas, accompanied by all those pitiful looks and nods, as if they got why I had been scarred and not able to find

somebody else, were the reasons why I had lied to my family. Why I wanted to crawl out of my skin at the prospect of

showing up alone when Daniel—my first love, my ex, the groom’s brother and best man—being there with his fiancée

would only reinforce their assumptions of me.

Single and alone after fleeing the country, heartbroken.

Stuck.

I was over him; I truly was. But, man, all that had happened had … messed me up. I realized that now—not because

it’d suddenly hit me that I had been single for years, but because I had lied—and what was worse was, I had just

made up my mind not to go back on my lie.

“Everybody understands. You went through a lot.” Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

A lot was a very gentle way to put it.

Nope. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t be that Lina in front of my whole family, the whole damn town. Daniel.

“Lina …” My mother said my name in that way only a mother could. “Are you still there?”

“Of course.” My voice sounded wobbly and heavy with everything I was feeling, and I hated that it had. I exhaled

through my nose, straightening in my chair. “Nothing happened with my boyfriend,” I lied. Lies, lies, and more lies.

Lina Martín, professional liar, deceiver. “And I am bringing him, just like I said I would.” I forced out a laugh, but it

sounded all wrong. “If you’d just let me talk before jumping to silly conclusions and sermonizing me, I could have told

you.”

Nothing came through the speaker of the phone. Only silence.

My mother wasn’t stupid. I didn’t think any mother was. And if I believed for a second that I was out of the storm, I was

probably wrong.

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