Page 11 of American Sweethearts

I let our family and friends hurry up the sandy path to the cocktail hour area and lingered behind, giving myself just a minute to breathe through the wave of emotions that had hijacked me during the ceremony. It was so strange to feel so alone when I was literally surrounded by every person I loved. I could see them all right now, and still I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I sighed, sick on my own bullshit, and decided I’d take a stroll on the beach before rejoining the rest of the group. Just as I was about to turn, I felt a light touch under my elbow. It was almost like my body could recognize him before my mind did.

“You bracing for what our nearest and dearest are about to do to that open bar?”

Just like that, the tension balloon that had taken over my chest popped.

I tried my best not to laugh, but then stopped fighting it and busted up. When I looked up, he was grinning from ear to ear. “You think you’re funny,” I said through fits of laughter. “Although my dad’s been availing himself of the Blue Label like it’s his job.”

He scoffed as we took a few steps toward the darkened beach. “I can’t talk; my parents took so many crab legs from dinner to their room last night they could barely walk.”

I shook my head and grinned, certain he was only exaggerating a little bit, then bumped his shoulder. “You guys looked great up there.”

“Shiiit. Is that a compliment?” I could barely make out the grin on his face, now that it was fully evening and we weregetting further from the lights of the reception area. But it was there.

“Don’t let it go to your head, this day has us all in our feelings.”

“I know. Milo’s so damn happy that for a whole ten minutes there, he forgot to boss us around.” That made me laugh for real. I lifted my face to the sky and felt the briny sea breeze as we walked.

For a second I felt him hesitate, but then he lifted his arm over my shoulder. He didn’t drop it though, just let it hover over there for a second, waiting for me to pull it down. I didn’t question my impulse as I brought a hand up to settle his arm around my shoulder.

chapter eight

juan pablo

There were many sides to Priscilla, and over the years I had seen most of them, but her vulnerable, quiet side was not one I’d seen a lot.

I wasn’t sure what to think when we reached the edge of the hotel property and she had her hand gently resting on the arm I’d draped around her shoulder. It was too dark now to see her clearly, but at the ceremony, I could hardly keep my eyes off her.

She was wearing a long gray and turquoise maxi dress. The top hugged her breasts and showed off her strong brown arms. She’d braided her hair in an intricate design, which made her look like a Taino princess. I was never any good at coming up with clever or romantic words, but for Priscilla, corny shit always seemed to be right at the tip of my tongue.

“Do you need to get back to the reception? Photos, speeches?”

I startled when her voice pierced the quiet, and turned to look at her. “We took all the pics beforehand, because it would be too dark after the ceremony.” She dipped her head once at that. “But I do have to be there in—” I lifted my arm to look at my watch “—about fifteen minutes. We let Priya and Ayako convince us to act out a poem for our joint speech, and I have to go look like a jackass in front of a hundred people.”

She busted up at that. “Of course they did. I can’t wait to hear what those two came up with. It’s so great that Milo and Tom’s friends get along so well.” She said it in that same glad-but-a-little-sad tone she’d been using all week. As we walked back up to the hotel, I wondered if all this was also getting to her.

I almost asked her what was wrong, or if this weekend had just a tinge of bittersweet to it for her, too, but getting to Priscilla’s soft underbelly was almost never a pleasant experience and I didn’t want to ruin the moment. “We all do get along well. Ayako and Priya are thick as thieves. They’ve been working on that program together. Sanjay and Priya are giving a ton of money to start a South and East Asian LGBT+ Youth center in Queens and Ayako’s been really involved with that.”

Pris nodded and when she spoke, I could hear the smile in her voice. “Leave it to Milo to find the one set of millionaires in New York who are not only all gorgeous and nice, but seem to be hell-bent on spending all their money on helping people.”

I cracked a smile at that. “And that little monster still finds shit to complain about.”

“That’s why we all love him. You never need to know where you stand with Camilo. He will let you know.”

I grunted some kind of affirmative response, feeling that a little more intensely than she probably meant me to. As we got closer to the lit reception area, we could smell the jerk chicken on the grill, but Priscilla spoke before I could. “Damn that smell’s making me hungry. I didn’t think I’d be able to eat after that gigantic lunch, but I could use a cocktail and some wings right now.”

I laughed at her ravenous expression. “Same. The food this week has been amazing.” Because Camilo was CubanandJamaican, we would have a Jamaican-themed cocktail hour, and dinner would be Dominican/Cuban fusion.

“Nesto really outdid himself on this one.” Pris’s voice was full of that pride she always had for her cousin. Nesto had asked two of his friends from culinary school—one Cuban and the other Jamaican—to come help out. Last night we’d had an amazing Afro-Caribbean fusion meal at the rehearsal dinner, and from the scents hitting us right now, we were in for another treat.

As we started walking up the stone path to the large covered terrace where guests were milling around various food stations, I slid my arm from her shoulders. I almost didn’t say anything, but no matter how much things had changed, I still had to be me. “I’m gonna take this arm off you right now, but know that it’s ready and able to be deployed whenever you need it.”

She just gave me some side-eye…and a smile. “Duly noted. Not that we want to give any of these people the wrong idea. Team JuanScilla is going strong in the Gutierrez family.” I grinned when she mentioned the nickname the guys had given us during a particularly hot and heavy time for us.

“Fuck no!” Throwing my hands up as if to shield myself. “Don’t even mention it in front of Camilo.”

I was about to make another joke about all the grief we put up with over the years when I noticed Patrice hurrying towards us, “Oh good! Here you are. We’re going to go practice this poem fiasco one more time before the speeches start.”