"You don't look happy, either, Andrés." It's a statement, not a question, and I wait with bated breath for him to answer.
If anything, the tension in the truck cab thickens, so much that I can feel his nervous energy snaking up my spine.
"I had a rough day at work." His jaw is so tight, I'm amazed he can even speak.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. I want to forget it." His tone is clipped, firm, leaving little room for me to argue.
This pregnancy, this wedding, can't be helping his stress, and lately he seems very stressed. I admire how Andrés acts like a different man at work, focused, authoritative. But having worked with him so long, I'm starting to see through his tough guy veneer. Andrés is a strict boss, uncompromising with his employees. I used to think his style was a product of his military training, but more and more lately, I'm noticing the weariness in his eyes, the stoop of his shoulders every time something goes wrong at one of the shops. Andrés hates his job.
"So what's going on with the wedding?" Andrés cuts into my thoughts. I look at him with a weary gaze. His aunts weren't thrilled with my mom's wedding plans. I wonder what Andrés will think. After all, this is his wedding, too.
"We're still looking at February first." I pause as I summon the nerve to hit him with the latest news. I know he wanted the wedding at the ranch. "Nora is talking about having it at a hotel on The Riverwalk."
"We can't do it at Tio's ranch?"
Damn. He didn't miss a beat.
I try to keep my tone even, though my body and soul are weary. I don't feel like discussing this wedding anymore. All I want to do is curl up underneath my blankets, fall asleep, and pretend this wedding isn't turning into a nightmare. "My stepdad has a large family. My mom wants it someplace bigger, more formal."
"The ranch has a lot of room, and you can make it more formal. That's your job now, isn't it?" There's no denying the accusation in his voice. I want to get mad at him, to argue, but he's right. It is my job to decorate weddings. I know I could make the ranch look just as beautiful as any hotel. But my mom is so set on having it in San Antonio. She wants to give me an extravagant wedding because she's missed out on all of the other milestones in my life, and she feels if she spends a lot of money, she'll somehow make it up to me. I'd feel bad denying her that.
"I don't know. I think The Riverwalk sounds nice." I lean over and try to look into his face, but Andrés doesn't so much as blink, much less look in my direction. "That's where we went on our first vacation together, remember?"
"I remember, mija," he says, "but Tia's not going to be happy."
I stiffen my spine. "This isn't her wedding."
He finally looks over at me, and a knot tightens in my chest at the accusation in his gaze. "It's not your mom's wedding, either."
"I know," I say as I look away. The weight of this wedding is pressing so heavily on my chest I fear I may suffocate, especially when I realize there's no way I can make everyone happy.
***
After we get home, Andrés fixes me a virgin sangria. We climb into bed, and he asks me to fill him in on our wedding plans. I tell him all about Nora. I sense he doesn't like the idea of this woman planning our wedding. I try to emphasize that she and The Cobra are no longer friends, but somehow I get the impression he's not buying it. I don't blame him, either. I wish I could find a way out of using her.
We discuss the wedding party. I tell him I want my brothers to be ring bearers and he wants his little cousin Amelia to be the flower girl. I only want one bridesmaid, Grace, since I don't talk to my other sorority sisters anymore and, besides Andrés, she's my only good friend. Andrés is going to ask his cousin Cesar to stand up with him. He hints he wants to see my dress, but I think back to what his aunt said about it being bad luck. I'm starting to think this wedding doesn't need any more bad mojo, so I smile coyly and tell him he'll have to wait until the wedding.
As tired as I am, I fall into him and wrap my arms around his neck when he kisses me goodnight. I try to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back and plants a chaste peck on my forehead. What the heck? He doesn't even bother making a move.
"Goodnight, mjia," he says.
When he gets out of bed and pads toward the living room, I bite on my lip and squeeze my eyes shut, trying my best to stifle my tears. A few slip out of the corners of my eyes, anyway. I keep my eyes shut; I don't want to open them and see Andrés is gone. I squeeze my pillow as fatigue overtakes me. It's been a long day, and I fear the time between now and the wedding may prove to be even more demanding.