Just Amigos: A Brother's Best Friend Romantic Comedy (Precio Brothers Book 3) by Gigi Blume

Author:Gigi Blume [Blume, Gigi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sodasac Press
Published: 2023-07-12T23:00:00+00:00

13

MATEO

“Mister Precio! I can’t take you anywhere.”

Mom is absolutely livid, but I think a part of her wants to laugh.

“You’re overreacting, woman. Nobody heard me.”

“Everybody heard you! Every single soul inside that church. Heads turned. The priest looked directly at you.”

Never a dull moment in this family. Make that double when my father decides to go to church. Thank heavens we’re almost home. Next Easter, I think I’ll leave the country.

“Good,” says Dad. “Next time he’ll get better candles.”

“The priest isn’t in charge of buying the candles, Dad,” says Nate.

“And there’s nothing wrong with the candles,” adds Mom. “Except for the people who don’t know how to hold a candle without dripping wax all over themselves.”

“The cups are chaffa,” says Dad.

“My cup was fine,” says Dante.

“Mine, too,” adds Enrique. “How was yours, dear?”

January shakes her head. “I’m staying out of this one.”

I’m getting a huge headache and just want to go to bed. Easter Sunday Mass is ridiculously crowded, and we have a gigantic family, so getting seats is near impossible. That’s why Mom decided we’d go to the Saturday night vigil instead. Admittedly, it was beautiful. They passed out candles (with perfectly acceptable plastic cup shield thingies) to everyone and shut off all the lights. There was an orchestra and a fire pit outside for the lighting of the candles. And best of all: not crowded. But it lasted almost three hours. My butt hurts. My knees hurt. And to top it all off, Dad dripped hot wax on his hand when he tipped over the candle, causing him to curse like a Spanish sailor. Loudly. During a quiet moment of the Mass.

My poor mom looked like she wanted to sink under the pews and hide.

“El saserdote no entiende.” Dad waves it off like an annoying fly.

“No,” says Mom. You’re wrong. As usual. Father Mike does understand Spanish, and now I can’t show my face around the Pastoral Council for at least—I don’t know—until Advent.”

“No inventes,” he scoffs.

“I burnt myself on the menorah once,” says Olive. “I blew too hard and the wax went flying.”

“A customer did that years ago,” says Ignacio. “That's why the restaurants don’t have candles on the tables anymore.”

“I’m fine now,” says Olive to Ignacio. “Thanks for your concern.”

Ignacio pulls Olive to him. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Bleh. Could these two get any sappier?

They fall back to give each other butterfly kisses (or whatever) while the rest of us continue down the sidewalk. In the distance, I see a single headlight coming our way. It’s either a car with one light burnt out, or it’s a two-wheeler. As it gets closer, something inside me jolts when I realize it’s Desirée. All of a sudden, my headache lifts and the general ickiness I feel in my body dissolves. Just the sight of her makes me feel a thousand percent better. It’s magic.

She pulls into her driveway just as we approach her house. She gets off, unstrapping a canvas grocery bag, and waves at us.

“Hi Mr. Precio. Mrs. Precio. Everybody.

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