Page 12 of American Sweethearts

I just rolled my eyes as I stepped up to where he was with Pris next to me. “It’s a little difficult to buy how annoyed you are about this when you’re grinning so hard I can see your molars.”

Pris rolled her eyes at him, too, pointing at Easton who was walking toward us with two champagne flutes in hand. “He probably thinks this is going to earn him points with Easton.” She clicked her tongue at Patrice, who was now waggling his eyebrows and mouthing, “You know I am.”

“Oh how the mighty fall. Patrice Denis, trying to get ass by acting a fool at a wedding. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

We all cracked up at that and by the time Easton made it to where we were, we had tears in our eyes. He handed Pris one of his glasses after giving Patrice a kiss. “Stop teasing my man, Priscilla.”

She balked at that. “How do you know I was teasing him?”

If any of us didn’t know her as well as we did, we’d think she was dead serious.

“I can tell. Now drink your delicious signature champagne cocktail so we can go get food from that unbelievable cocktail hour spread while these men go practice.”

She saluted us with one hand as she took a sip and moaned. “Damn. This is good. Champagne and what?”

Easton nodded in appreciation. “Tamarind and passion fruit.”

“Thank you baby Jesus for making Camilo skanky.” She pressed a hand to the champagne flute as if in prayer. “Because we are all reaping the fruits of his efforts.”

Man, I hadn’t seen that glint in Priscilla’s eyes since we’d gotten here. I didn’t want to get a big head and say our walk turned her mood around,but I could think it. I didn’t want to leave, just so I could get a little bit more time with her.

But before I could mess more with her, P clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go J.”

Pris and Easton lifted their glasses to us as we turned to join the others.

“Are you two patching things up?” That was another big change in Patrice, since he’d joined the ranks of the coupled off and blissfully happy. He nowvolunteeredto know about people’s feelings.

“I wouldn’t say patch things up, but yeah it’s all good.” As we headed to join the rest of the wedding party to figure out how many ways we could make asses of ourselves in honor of our friend’s marriage, I thought about how good it had felt to havemy arm around her, to see her at ease and joking, the way her laugh still did more for my soul than anything else in the world, how it probably would forever.

I knew it then. It was time to take my chance.

chapter nine

priscilla

No matter how I was handling my own feelings about my love life or my future, tonight had me feeling grateful. Tom and Camilo’s wedding had not just been beautiful, but it had been a freaking love fest. It was impossible to be sad in the presence of two people that much in love with each other. It was also so good to be with family and friends to lift Milo up. No one deserved a happily ever after more than him.

The guys and Ayako had brought down the house with their adorable and hilarious speech. Even Milo’s prickly ass hadn’t been able to keep from cackling as they relayed hilarious stories about Camilo’s reputation as the group’s ring leader and all the ways in which they loved him. For their first dance, Tom actually flew in Juan Luis Guerra, whose music meant so much to both of them, and they danced to “Cuando Te Beso,” as we all basically melted from how monumental it all felt.

It was past midnight and the party was still going strong. And another one of the merengue bands Tom hired for the wedding had all the Latinx people still going hard on the dance floor. I’d danced about three songs in a row with my dad and was about to call it quits when I felt someone tap my shoulder.

Before I could turn around, I saw my father’s face light up. “Juan Pablo, you cutting in?”

He moved so he was standing next to my dad, a shy smile on his face, and my traitorous stomach dipped. He’d been dancing all night, too. With his salsa skills, he was always in high demand at weddings. At some point he’d unbuttoned his shirt, so I could see just a peek of that chiseled chest I’d been getting eyefuls of all week.

My dad released my hand and looked between the two of us. “Que dices, Pris?” WhatcouldI say? No?

I mean, I could but… I may not have wanted to admit it to myself, but I’d kept an eye on him as he’d danced with other partners tonight. No matter who it was, he was always the one leading; he was a beautiful dancer. I wanted to dance with Juan Pablo. He knew it, too. I winked at my dad, trying to keep the mood light and not make this a thing like I seemed to do with everything lately and extended my hand to him.

He took it immediately, as my father clapped a hand on his shoulder and pointed to my mother, who was sitting at our table watching the dance floor with a tired smile. Her gauzy yellow dress hiked up to her knees. “I’m gonna get Maritza and head to the room. You got your key, right?”

I nodded and my dad walked off, leaving me in Juan Pablo’s arms. Just as I was about to make a snarky comment about his dance card finally having an opening, the first notes of “Entre tu Cuerpo y el Mio” started and he and I both stiffened at once.

Of fucking course our old song would start playing the moment we began dancing.

“That’s a throwback.” Juan Pablo wasn’t even trying to sound casual as we started moving. I couldn’t even remember the last time we’d danced together. It’d been years, but as soon as he pressed his hand to the small of my back, we were back in sync. Our feet stepping in unison, hips swaying to the same exact beat. I closed my eyes, confident in J’s lead as I listened to the singer belt out the lyrics to what had been our anthem. I felt his griptighten when she sang about lovers that gave each other their very souls, bodies that fit so perfectly there was no space at all between them when they came together. He pressed closer and I let him as I mouthed the words from the song, my head thrown back.

I felt his beard brush against my face, as I pressed closer. We were almost the same height but with my heels on, I was just a little bit taller. I smiled at that, because for all his posturing and vanity, Juan Pablo had never cared about that. On the contrary, he loved seeing me in heels.