"I won."

That's what my mother's eyes seem to say every time they settle on mine; glimmering a proud blue because her daughter finally got her priorities straight—literally. She adores Xavi and everything he represents for my future, and it's never made her more interested in my life or in me. I wish I could say it makes me happy to have her support now, but her venom-laced smiles and hugs leave me on edge.

Why now?

I keep asking myself that question despite knowing the answer, perhaps because there's a tiny part of me that's still in denial of the idea that my own mother might not genuinely love me. Even as she gushes over the thought of seeing me in a pretty white dress, the doubt gnaws at me.

What about my college graduation dress? Didn't you want to see that?

"You're an adult now, Lola," she'd said over the phone. "You don't really need your mom to come, do you?"

I wanted you to see it. I did need you.

"Of course not, Mom," I responded nonchalantly. I was good at faking it back then; good at convincing her that nothing she said got under my skin. "Liam needs you more that day."

For a fucking track meet, sure.

"Oh, Lola," she crooned happily. "You're such a good daughter."

I forced a smile in hopes she'd hear it. "Thank you, Mom. I'm trying to make you proud."

Are you proud, Mom? I wondered hopelessly as I walked the stage and accepted my degree.

Kyle and Mariluz were there, already like family to me after only a few months of working together for Kyle's and my internships with The People Agenda. They cheered me on and recorded the whole thing for my family. My brother sent back an unenthusiastic "congrats." My parents didn't even respond.

"Where should we grab lunch?" Kyle chirped excitedly after snapping a million more pictures.

My eyes lingered on the families of my classmates; parents, siblings, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, all there to support them in a way that I couldn't get a single person from my family to support me. My stomach tightened, and I looked at the exit, reading it more like "escape."

But I wasn't broken yet.

I forced a smile and tried to see things their way. "Anything sounds good. Let's just get outta here before the traffic starts."

They brought me to the bus stop after lunch and went off to the airport. I spent the trip home feeling uneasy about seeing my parents again. It had been months, and they had missed something important. I was bitter, despite insisting I wasn't, and I didn't know how to hide that.

"Oh, I've just been so busy," my mom explained halfheartedly when I arrived home. "They were nice pictures, though."

Too busy to congratulate your daughter properly?

"I understand, Mom," I assured her with a believable smile. But I didn't, and the words left a sour taste in my mouth.

She grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. They showed a deep unrest as she gazed at me; remnant resentment from just five years earlier when I came out of the closet. It hasn't left her sharp stare since the night it first clouded it.

"What exactly are you getting at, Lola?" she challenged me when I told her I liked girls.

Why don't you listen to me for a change?

"I mean, I-I'm trying to say th-that I like girls... r-romantically," I stammered nervously in response. My cheeks burned up so badly I could feel the heat in my eyes.

"You think you're a lesbian?" she sneered. "Who put an idea like that in your head?"

"N-no one." I trembled as my pulse rose, but it was fear back then, not anger.

"Was it that Nadya?" she spat. "I knew she was a queer the first time I saw her."

My chest tightened at the mention of her name—my first love. It was short and sweet, like most high school loves. She taught me a lot about myself, most importantly the fact that I am lesbian—or, was. I couldn't stand that my mother knew her name and could pick her out so easily.

"It wasn't her," I responded firmly.

My mom's eyes narrowed at me. "I know it was, and you won't be seeing her anymore."

And like many high school loves, it was our parents who drove us apart. Nadya's parents were no more pleased with what my mother told them than she had been when I told her. As a result, I didn't see Nadya again. She stayed out of school for a week, and then abruptly moved out of town.

"I'm looking out for your best interests," she told me coldly one afternoon in response to my tears.

Are you still? Is that why you're animatedly debating expensive wedding venues you'll have no part in paying for with Noemi, Xavi, and Rigo? Is it really in my best interest to spend that extra twenty grand showing off someone else's money?

"What do you think, Lola?" she asks me, her cheeks rosy with excitement.

I look at the venue she's suggesting: an elegant white church with big sunny windows and more pews than we could even fill on our side. I suppose the extra seats could fit the extended Reyes family that would surely attend, but it still feels so completely unnecessary.

"Why don't we wait to discuss the wedding until after the baby is here?" I suggest somewhat exhaustedly.

My words seem to go in one ear and out the other, because she takes the laptop back and continues scrolling through the pictures with excitement. "Your father would have loved this venue," she mutters contentedly.

Who's wedding is this again?

Xavi leans back on the couch, tightening his grip on my hand and reminding me that he's been holding it in the first place. I haven't let go since we walked up to the house together with Noemi in tow to greet my mother. Even as she pulled us into awkward hugs and explained that Rigo had offered to fly Liam and her in for a last-minute visit, I held on tight.

Liam appears about as thrilled for this visit as I am, sitting beside our mother with his arms crossed tight over his chest and a scowl fixed on his feet. We could bond over this; how ridiculous our mother is being about my wedding. A few shared complaints and laughs later, we'd finally be the family we've both needed all our lives. But she took away our ability to reach out long ago, so we'll suffer through this silently and continue on alone in the world as usual.

I sigh as I look away, my eyes landing on Rigo. How nice of him to offer this trip and not say a damn word to me about it, I seethe in my head.

He looks up to catch my gaze at that exact time and smirks. My blood boils instantly, and I take a deep, loud breath to calm myself. Xavi takes notice, and Rigo gets up to head back to the kitchen at the same moment.

"Are you okay?" Xavi whispers into my ear.

"Peachy," I respond at regular volume.

He appears concerned by my tone. "Are you sure? We can—"

"Ven a comer!" Rigo yells from the kitchen.

Noemi springs to her feet excitedly and skips to the kitchen, leaving Xavi and me with my mom and brother. Xavi purses his lips and begrudgingly looks away from me.

"Dinner's ready," he informs my family.

Chris, Mía, Ximena, Noé, Río, and Jazmin are all already in the kitchen with Rigo and Noemi when we enter. Jazmin avoids my gaze, and I'm thankful for that, because I can't keep my eyes off her no matter how much I tell myself to. It's purely out of fear, like watching the one stalking me. At any moment, she's going to corner me about the past three weeks of silence, and I still haven't figured out what to say!

"This looks great," my mother chirps with her usual facade of friendliness, sitting beside me at the island. "What is it?" She looks curiously at her plate of corn tortillas filled with seasoned, slow-cooked beef, onions, and cilantro with a small bowl of consomme on the side.

"Birria," Rigo answers absently as he plates more for others.

Jazmin helps him to pass plates out before sitting across from me at the island, keeping her eyes on her own plate the entire time. Rigo retreats to the breakfast nook with Chris and the kids, while Ximena and Noemi sit with Jazmin across from us.

I reach forward to grab my glass of water and her eyes snap to me instantly. My breath catches and she perks up as a thought hits her.

"Hay tequila?" she calls out to no one in particular.

Noemi clicks her tongue in disapproval. "Seriously, Jaz?"

Jazmin grins wryly as she abruptly stands. "Anybody else want a drink?"

"I'll have one," Ximena calls out nonchalantly. "And so will Xavi," she adds with a smirk.

"I knew twin telepathy worked," Xavi snickers.

"It's not good to drink around kids," my mother comments nonchalantly as she picks at her food. "I hope that's going to stop when my grandbaby is here."

Xavi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but I don't even look up. I know her intent is to establish herself as the authority in this part of my life too, but I won't have it. Not after I finally got out from under her thumb.

"Xavi's an adult and can drink if he wants to," I counter, equally nonchalant in hopes that I get under her skin the way she does mine. Xavi's finally twenty-one anyway, having celebrated his birthday in Tijuana with his sisters and friends last month.

"That baby's Mexican," Jazmin interjects with a hint of an attitude, setting down a stack of glasses and a bottle of tequila on the island. "They'll have their first sip of tequila before they turn ten."

"When are you going to tell us the baby's gender?" my mom inquires with an eyebrow raised, facing me directly now.

Jazmin starts sliding half-filled glasses of tequila across the island to their intended recipients, and I watch them glide as the aggravation scratches at my sanity. Another tiny kick from Ariel triggers a protectiveness I've never felt before. One more, and I face my mother with a subtly vindictive smile. The kind of smile that says "I won."

"We didn't find out the gender today," I correct her calmly. "We found out the assigned sex."

Her nose scrunches up as I speak. "Don't be so crude, Lola."

"They're different things, Mom."

Her expression gets serious as she glares daggers at me. This stare says, "you had better stop embarrassing me," but I won't. So instead, I continue.

"Gender can change, and it happens often," I explain as she cringes. "They are different, Mom."

"Well?" Jazmin chimes in before my mother can respond. Her already-empty glass hits the counter with a thud as she grabs the tequila with her other hand, meeting my eyes as if challenging me. "What's the assigned sex?"

"Maybe we're not telling today," Xavi cuts in smugly.

"After the wedding then," my mother suggests. "You should do that soon, anyway. You don't want to be massive in your pictures."

I fight back the glare that wants to escape and fake a smile. "The baby will be born before the wedding."

My mother scoffs at that, looking at Jazmin with a wry smile. "You know what, I think I'll have a drink too." She laughs the same obnoxious laugh she always pulls out around strangers, and Jazmin pours away with a soft shrug before sliding the glass across to her. My mom slowly raises it nearly to her lips as she looks at Xavi and me. "Have you thought of getting married in Lanesboro?"

Fuck me, I guess.

I resign myself to picking at my tacos while my mother discusses my wedding with the younger Reyes siblings as if it's got nothing to do with me. Jazmin engages my mother's every idea, egging her on while refilling both of their glasses and glaring at me whenever not speaking. I try my hardest to ignore it, but I can feel her eyes burning through me every time I look away.

By the time my mother's eyes start to glaze over, I'm feeling nauseous with unease at Jazmin's relentless glares and excuse myself to the bathroom. I don't make it far before I feel a hand on my shoulder—her hand—gripping tight and pulling me back.

"Where you going?" Jazmin demands from behind me.

I face her with my heart pounding in my throat and purse my lips to hold in my emotions, on the verge of exploding. She stands there exuding tequila-driven confidence and scowling at me the same as before.

"I have to use the bathroom," I squeak out in a nervous reply.

She nods and shrugs. "Let's go then."

Her fingers wrap tight around my bicep and yank me along with her, up the stairs and toward her bedroom. My heart pounds faster with mounting panic.

"Jaz, we passed the bathroom—"

"You can go to the bathroom after we talk," she interrupts me venomously. "If you have to go bad, you better talk fast."

Luckily it was only nausea driving me out of the kitchen, but this anxiety is no better. She slams the door hard behind us before ripping her hand away and leaving a dull throb in my bicep. She's drunk, but her eyes are sharp with anger, shattering all hope of walking away from this conversation easily.

"Your mom can't seem to shut up about the damn wedding, so is it actually happening, then?" she demands.

I hesitate to answer her as my throat goes dry. The wedding is happening, I'm sure of it now, but how do I explain that in a way that doesn't hurt Jazmin? Is it even possible anymore?

"Well?" she presses forcefully.

"Yes!" I blurt in a panic, panting as my stomach tightens.

Jazmin's face drops, the tension falling away from her body in a rush. "What?" Her voice is quiet; unsure.

I swallow back my fear and harden my face. "We are getting married. I should have told you that things had changed. I'm sorry."

Her sadness morphs into a sneer. "What changed? Mommy's support?"

My expression sours at her remark. "My mom has nothing to do with this."

"She seems to think she does."

"That's her own problem, not mine."

"That's Xavi's problem," she corrects me fiercely, "because you're about to marry him to make her happy."

"It's not about her!" I explode in desperate anger. "Would you just listen to me?!"

"I did!" she fires back. "For an entire fucking month, I bought into every word of your bullshit lies! And then you ghosted me for my own fucking brother!"

"Ghosted you?" I repeat incredulously. "We were engaged the whole time. You knew that."

"A loveless engagement, according to you," she reminds me, crossing her arms tight over her chest as the hurt reappears.

Loveless? The word irks me more than I ever thought possible, especially in reference to my relationship with Xavi. What we have is the furthest thing from loveless, regardless of how it began.

"I know I hurt you, Jazmin, but I was wrong," I tell her gently.

Her eyes tighten. "Wrong?"

Don't make me say it, Jaz.

"About what?" she continues when I don't respond.

Fuck.

My arms unconsciously slide around my ribcage as my gaze falls to her shoes. "About Xavi and me."

We're both quiet, allowing my latest confession to hang in the air as a painful distance grows between us. Knowing it had to happen doesn't lessen the way it sears through my chest to see tears streak her cheeks. This isn't how I wanted anything to go. I didn't want anyone to get hurt.

"Jazmin," I utter shakily after another moment.

She looks at me with renewed rage, her lip curving into a sneer as she forcefully wipes her tears away. "Don't apologize."

I wasn't going to.

My heart picks up in a rush of unexplained anger once again, but I try to calm myself. "I know you don't want to hear it—"

"I said shut up!"

My restraint falls away at the interruption. "You shut up!"

We both jump as the door flies open and Xavi comes in, his face a discontented scowl that shifts between the two of us. My whole body goes cold as I look between the siblings.

"What the fuck is all the yelling about?" he demands.

I naively look at Jazmin for a way out at the same moment she looks at me, and her lips twitch downward. "Tell him, Lola."

No.

My blood pressure rises rapidly, sending trembles shooting through my body as I squeeze my hands together tight. I can't relax no matter how hard I try, and I know it makes me look guilty. Xavi's face becomes more concerned as he looks at me, as if to confirm my thoughts.

"Tell me what, Lola?" he asks as he steps toward me, his voice gentler than before.

My shoulders rise and fall visibly with my quick breaths, and I shoot Jazmin one last desperate glance. Her expression is cold.

"Tell. Him."