Lovestruck Forever (6 page)

“Thanks,”
she said, opening the door for us both. “Let’s stash that
stuff in the car before we go to the bakery.”

The
intoxicating smell from Gloria’s reached my nose when we were
still a few buildings away. Sofie stopped on the sidewalk next to me,
closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. “It’s been
too long,” she murmured.

“Come
on.” I grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the door. “The
sooner we get in there, the sooner we can actually eat things.”

Gloria’s
had a small storefront, filled with glass cases. In each case was an
array of different baked goods, each more enticing than the last.
“Here,” I said to Thomas, grabbing a cafeteria tray and a
set of tongs from the shelf in front of the door. “It’s
self-serve.”

He
looked around the room, wide-eyed. “Okay, I concede that you
weren’t exaggerating.”

“And
you haven’t even tasted anything yet,” Sofie said
happily, grabbing the tongs from him and opening the first case.

Though
just about everything in the store was delicious, there were three or
four things I particularly liked—a jam-filled sugar cookie, a
churro covered in powdered sugar, and a delicate cinnamon cake—that
I was sure to grab. Thomas, however, was not interested in being
discriminating. He grabbed at least one of every single thing that
looked good to him, until our tray was overflowing.

“When
are you going to have time to eat all of that?” Sofie demanded.

“I’ll
find a way.”

At
the counter, Sofie gave my sister’s name to a tired-looking
employee with flour stains all over her shirt. The woman smiled and
slipped into the back, returning with two large, white cardboard
baker’s boxes. “What’s that?” I asked with
interest, reaching for the lid to the first box.

Sofie
slapped my hand away. “That’s our special order. The cake
and about a hundred tortillas.”

“I
want to see the cake,” I persisted, reaching again. This time
she grabbed my hand and twisted my fingers, a favorite trick Maria
employed as a child to keep us from touching her things.

“You’ll
see the cake at the party.”

I
scowled at her, but she merely turned to the register to pay for the
special order.

“I’ve
got this stuff,” Thomas told her, holding the tray closer to
his chest.

“Damn
right you do,” she said, smiling at him sweetly. “Since
you’re the one that pigged out.”

Once
everything was paid for, Sof stacked the two boxes in Thomas’s
arms, his full-to-bursting paper bag of goodies on top. I laughed at
the picture he presented and took his arm to guide him back out to
the car—I doubted he could even see over the bounty.

Once
we had everything loaded up in the car, Thomas pulled out into the
late afternoon traffic. “That was a really nice day,” he
told me, his hand comfortably on my knee.

“I’m
glad you got to see this place.”

“Who
wants a churro?” Sofie called from the back seat, rummaging
through the bag.

“Me!”

We
feasted on baked goods the entire way home. I was already full from
the large lunch, but somehow managed to help Sofie and Thomas make
our way through half of the bag.

“I’m
not ever eating again,” Sofie muttered from the back seat as we
pulled onto my parents’ street.

“You
say that now,” I said, rubbing my own aching stomach, “but
just you wait until you get into my mom’s kitchen and smell all
the smells of delicious things cooking for the party.”

They
both groaned as Thomas parked in front of the house. It was still
early—my dad and brothers would most likely be at work. But
Maria’s and Laura’s cars were both parked out front,
along with Sofie’s mom’s. As we hopped out of Thomas’s
SUV, I sensed her tense next to me. I was reminded of all the weird
little things I’d noticed throughout the day, the way she
seemed more annoyed than usual about her family, the way her
expression had tightened when Thomas and I talked about the wedding.
There was something going on with her, I was sure of it.

Before
I could say anything, she was moving to unload things out of the
trunk. “Give me a hand,” she called. “Just because
this is your party doesn’t mean you’re off scot free.”

I’ll
ask her about it later
,
I promised myself.
After
the party is over
.

I
followed her inside, to a kitchen that was almost certainly already
full of preparations, and tried to ignore the little seed of worry
that was planting itself in my stomach.

If
there was one thing that could be said for my family, it’s that
they sure know how to throw a party. I stood in the kitchen on Friday
night after Thomas, Sofie, and I had dropped off the supplies from
Mexicantown and watched as a collection of sisters, aunts, and
cousins went to work, cooking and baking. Maria, true to form,
flitted from the kitchen to the back yard, where the guys in the
family were busy organizing the folding chairs, putting up the tents,
stringing lights, and hauling coolers, grills, and other various
equipment from the back of pickup trucks.

“Holy
crap,” Thomas had muttered, staring out at the yard in
something close to awe. “They’re not messing around, are
they?”

I
shook my head, feeling like I might burst into laughter at the look
on his face. “My family doesn’t really know the meaning
of the words ‘keeping it simple,’” I pointed out.

He
smiled, slipping an arm around my waist. “I hope you remember
all of this the next time they’re driving you crazy,” he
murmured into my ear.

I
nodded. “I know. I’m too hard on them. I need to remember
how hard they’re always willing to work for others.”

His
eyes met mine, a smile dancing around his mouth. “That’s
not really what I meant. I want you to remember how much they all
love
you
.
I mean…look at this, Lizzie. This is all for you.”

“For
us,” I amended, and he shook his head slightly.

“The
fact that it’s for us only proves my point. They’re
letting you know that “us” is okay. They wouldn’t
all be here, working this hard, if they hadn’t accepted your
decision to be with me.”

I
snuggled into him, knowing that he had a point. This party was
definitely their way of showing me that my engagement had their
blessing, particularly for my dad and Maria, who’d had such a
hard time with my leaving home and were now working so hard to make
the party special for me.

We
stood like that for a moment, a bubble of calm in the midst of so
much chaos, before Thomas shook himself slightly. “We should be
helping.”

We
both visibly braced ourselves as we approached Maria, asking what we
should be doing.

To
my great surprise, she shook her head firmly. “Go home. Get
some rest. You have a big day tomorrow.”

“You
don’t actually think we’re going to leave you guys to all
of this—” I started, but she merely crossed her arms, the
scary Maria face firmly in place.

“No
way. This is your party. We’ve got it.”

I
looked around the kitchen, at the half finished work, and wondered
how on earth they would ever get it done. But Maria was already
pushing us toward the door. “You need to be up early to get to
the airport for the Harpers,” she reminded me. “And
there’s no way I’m going to let you ruin this party by
yawning your way through the entire thing.” At the front door
she stopped pushing and winked at me. “All my hard work would
go to waste.”

I
was filled with a sudden surge of affection for my bossy big sister.
I threw my arms around her shoulders and squeezed, tight, realizing
that Thomas was right. This wasn’t just about them putting on
the game face for family and friends. They really were doing this for
me, because they loved me. And maybe even because they accepted
Thomas.

Maria
indulged my hug for a moment before pushing me away. “Go on
now,” she said, her voice commanding—but she smiled at us
both, even reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss Thomas on the cheek.
“See you tomorrow.”

As
we drove away, I couldn’t help but doubt her ability to pull it
off. The house was a mess, the food unfinished, half the chairs still
missing, two of the tents refusing to take shape. How could they
manage it all in only a few short hours?

Apparently
I forgot whom I was dealing with. By the time Thomas and I arrived at
our engagement party the next afternoon, the house had been
transformed.

“Look
at all the lights!” Bryony, Thomas’s younger sister,
squealed from the back seat of my SUV, pressing her fingers to the
glass of the window. “And all the colors!”

I
felt a lump come to my throat as I looked at my parents’ house.
They had strung lights and paper lanterns all over the front porch
and along the drive and walk ways. Potted plants had been brought in,
probably from the back yards of various relatives, to add to the
festive vibe. There were also balloons and streamers everywhere, tied
up to every possible surface, including the porch railings and the
oak tree in the front yard. There were already dozens of people
making their way up the driveway and milling about the front yard.
Behind the house, I could just make out the billowing white tents.

To
some, it may have seemed overkill. Gaudy, even, with all the colors
and cheap decorations. But all I could see was the love that went
into it.

“You
okay?” Thomas asked, squeezing my hand. I got the sense that he
knew exactly what I was feeling. When I merely shook my head, unable
to speak, he chuckled, opening his car door. “Come on, weepy.
Let’s go to our party.”

“This
is brilliant, Lizzie,” Bryony said, climbing out of the back
seat to join us on the pavement. “Oh, I can’t wait to
meet your family.” She stopped suddenly, grabbing my free hand.
“Who is
that
?”

I
squinted in the direction she was looking. “That’s my
cousin, Juan,” I told her, waving to him.

“He’s
gorgeous
.
Oh, I just love Latin men. Would it be weird if I tried to get off
with one of your relatives? I mean, we’re not technically
related—”

“Bryony,”
Thomas said, a warning note in his voice.

She
winked at me and I laughed. “I would just be careful of using
that phrase here,” I told her. “I’m not sure it
translates that well to American.”

“What
are we waiting for?” she asked, closing her eyes. “God,
it smells good. I’m starving!”

“We’re
waiting for Mum and Dad,” Thomas said, and I stifled a laugh at
the sound of his voice. He’d only been in the presence of his
little sister for a few hours, and he was already losing his patience
with her. He sounded just like my older brothers when they talked to
me.

“They
were right behind us,” I reminded Bryony. “I’m sure
they’ll be here soon.”

We
had picked up Mr. And Mrs. Harper, along with Bryony, earlier in the
day, meeting my parents for a quick breakfast before taking the
Harpers back to our place to rest before the party. I’d felt a
little bad, expecting them to socialize with my parents so early
after a long flight, but, as Thomas pointed out, it was kinder than
expecting them to have their first face-to-face meeting with my folks
when they were also meeting the dozens of extended family members
that would be at the party tonight. After their rest, Mr. Harper had
insisted on driving himself and his wife to the party. Apparently he
had been reading up on driving in the States and was eager to
practice driving on the wrong side of the road. In retrospect, maybe
it hadn’t been such a good idea to let him give it a go…

“Dad
is probably pulled off to the side of the road right now, having a
panic attack,” Bryony said, rolling her eyes. I met Thomas’s
gaze, and it was clear that he agreed with his sister, whether he
would admit it or not. Luckily, Thomas’s father chose that
moment to pull up behind us in Thomas’s SUV. Through the
windshield, I could see his wife, Anne, yelling and gesturing wildly
with her hands, while Gilbert looked sheepish—and more than a
little proud of himself. I stifled a giggle as they climbed out of
the car.

“You
made it,” Bryony said, sighing loudly. “We’ve only
been standing out here
forever
.”

“How
was the drive, Anne?” I asked, watching as she visibly
rearranged her features into a more calm expression.

“It’s
best not to talk of it, dear,” she said, patting my arm. She
looked up at the house, a smile breaking out over her face. “Well,
look at that!”

I
felt a sudden fluttering of nerves. I so badly wanted tonight to go
well. The initial meeting of the parents over breakfast had been
fine, if slightly awkward and formal. But tonight was a much bigger
deal. I knew firsthand how quickly my family could become
overwhelming, and I hated thinking of Mr. and Mrs. Harper feeling
uncomfortable. Even more, though it made me feel guilty to admit it,
I hated thinking of them possibly judging my family. Though Thomas’s
parents were far from the cold and restrained British stereotype I
had initially feared, there was a good chance they might not have any
idea what they were getting themselves into with my clan.

“This
looks wonderful,” Gilbert said jovially, patting my back.
“Shall we go back and mingle?”

I
steeled myself, trying to remember that the Harpers were warm and
kind and would not, in all likelihood, run screaming in fear from
such a crowd. “Sure,” I said, hoping my voice sounded as
light and casual as I intended. Thomas squeezed my hand again, making
me think that perhaps I hadn’t quite pulled it off.

“You’re
going to go crazy for the food,” he told his parents, leading
the way down the sidewalk to the house. “Lizzie’s aunts
and sisters are magicians in the kitchen.”