The Spanish Love Deception

“You can blame yourself for that.” My sister’s pointer finger joined her accusation. “You brought Clark Kent’s doppelgänger to the party.”

“He does look like him, doesn’t he?”

Isabel nodded. “And by the way …” She paused, and before I could dodge it or be prepared for it, she tugged at my ponytail. A little too hard.

“Hey!” I grabbed my hair and moved out of the trajectory of other possible attacks. “What the hell was that for, bridezilla?!”

“Don’t be a baby; you deserved it. How dare you keep that”—Isabel pointed at Aaron, making me smack her hand down—“hidden from me!”

“Isabel,” I warned.

She went on, ignoring me and waving her index finger in my fake boyfriend’s direction, “When my sister starts dating someone, I expect a full report. Vivid descriptions, photos, videos, oil paintings—I don’t care. Even those dick pics I mentioned, which you never sent.”

“Isabel.” I lowered my voice. “Shut up. He will hear you.”

We were only a few feet away from the group.

She cocked an eyebrow and then tilted her head slowly.

Dammit.

“He is dating you. What’s the big deal with him hearing you talk about it with your sister? You’ve seen his penis. We are allowed to discuss it.” She rolled her eyes. “Actually, I think we are expected to do that. I’m sure he’s talked to his friends about your bubbies.”

I cursed under my breath.

She stared at me, inspecting my reaction.

I looked nervously in Aaron’s direction. Our gazes met. Those blue eyes, which always seemed to find me, held mine for a long moment.

Jesus, did he hear that?

Shaking my head very lightly, I returned my gaze back to my sister.

“You know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “you only mentioned him a couple of times, so I was convinced it wasn’t that serious. But I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My heart sped up as I feared what she might say.

We had barely had any time to act all snuggly and lovey-dovey or however a boyfriend and girlfriend were supposed to behave. All the Wedding Cup shenanigans had consumed all our time and energy.

“Well, for one, he’s here,” Isabel pointed out. “You bringing him home—to meet Mamá and Papá and basically the entire town—tells me that he’s not just anyone. There must be something special about him. You wouldn’t bring someone you were casually seeing or dating. Not even if they looked like him. You don’t trust people easily anymore.”

Stumbling over my own thoughts, I came to a stop.

Her words had smacked me right in the face. Emptying me of anything I could say.

Impostor. The accusation took shape in my head. How could it not when I was a big, fat liar?

Isabel took my silence as a sign to keep talking. “Then, there’s the way his eyes have been on you the whole time we’ve been here.”

Whoa, what?

“It’s been only, what? A couple of hours? And he’s still absorbed by you, watching and following every single move you make, as if you were pooping rainbows and leaving behind a trail of glitter. It would be disgusting if I wasn’t in love myself.” She patted my hand. “And trust me, sis, you all red and blotchy? Not that cute.”

My head whirled in Aaron’s direction again. He was chugging water from a bottle, not looking half as physically exerted as everybody else. Even after carrying Team Groom on his back along with Gonzalo. As I got lost in the way his arm stretched and his throat worked down the water, I wondered if my sister had imagined all that or if Aaron’s acting was that amazing. Maybe I hadn’t given him enough credit.

“Anyway,” she added as we finally reached the group, “you’ll have to catch me up on this and tell me all the dirty details. Don’t think that just because I haven’t drilled you for them, I don’t want them.” Isabel warned me with a look that told me she’d bug me until I broke under the pressure. “But until then, just keep doing whatever you are doing.” She winked. “Because, hermanita, he has it bad.”

A snort involuntarily escaped my lips. “Yeah, sure.”