Page 97 of Fair Trade
After giving the restaurant a run for their money on bottomless mimosas, we ate family style, sharing multiple sweet and savory plates. The fact that it was a drag show brunch meant that I’ll probably have no voice come tomorrow morning after the number of times I’ve yelled, “Yas,Queen!”
Even Daisy decided to let loose, participating in the show and waving dollar bills in the air. Knowing Daisy could be a bit of a lightweight, I made sure to make her table-side drinks myself, always giving her a full glass of orange juice with a splash of bubbly. I tried to be as covert as possible so she wouldn’t notice and feel like I was trying to baby her, since I’m sure her brother does enough of that.
Now we’re sitting in a private room at a quaint Spanish restaurant with views of the busy downtown sidewalk and a private exit, slowly sipping on cava, since we are old enough to know that it’s not smart to switch up your alcohol once you’re enjoying a nice buzz. Prevents you from having to be the big spoon to a porcelain toilet.
“Gosh, I know we ate less than an hour ago, but those queens had me dancing my ass off, and I think the patatas bravas are calling my name,” Isabella says as her eyes scan the menu like it’s her favorite romance novel.
“Oh yes, carb us up. I’m sure we’re going to need it if we’ve got to rally before we meet up with the men. And let’s order another pitcher of water. Hydration is key. Even if we spend the night peeing, it’ll be worth it tomorrow when we’re not hungover,” I say as I pull out my phone to make an order that will go straight to the kitchen.
“What are you thinking, Daisy?” Isa asks.
Daisy nibbles on her thumbnail. “I don’t know. That does sound good. And the gambas al ajillo here are the best in the city… but we already ate, and I have a dress fitting after the holidays, so I probably shouldn’t.”
Isabella and I scrunch our faces, but Isa speaks before I have the chance. “Okay, my understanding is that a dress fitting is for, I don’t know, maybe to make the dress you like fitsyou?”
Daisy takes a small sip of her drink. “I know, but Damien’s mother picked this dress that—”
“Wait, hold up.” I put my hands up. “Your future mother-in-law picked out your wedding dress?”
Daisy stumbles over her words. “No, I mean, yeah. She said it was a classic silhouette. And it is very nice. But I doubt it’s meant for someone who has my body type.”
“Let me guess, someone with ass for days?” Isabella muses.
“Do you think my ass is that big?” Daisy worriedly places her hands on her hips.
“Wait, Daisy, are you being serious? You’re drop-dead gorgeous. Women around the world would pay top dollar for an ass like yours. You’re perfect. You look exactly like most of the women in my family.” I pause as I gather the courage to say what I’ve been tiptoeing around. “Like a beautiful Dominican woman. Your hourglass figure was most likely passed down from your mother’s side of the family. But I’m guessing not growing up around women of color might not have taught you from a young age how to love and appreciate every curve, bump, and stretch mark that adorns your body.”
She’s silent for so long that I think she might not respond to what I said, so I’m caught off guard when she does. “No one in Damien’s family has my body type. Makes me feel like a sideshow every time I have to attend an important family dinner. And now that the wedding is in a few months, the comments on my body have ramped up. It started innocently enough. Things that most brides probably obsess over, trying to look perfect on their special day. But now it’s become much more blatant. It feels like they’re putting up with me at this point, like I’m some paid actor meant to stand in that day and do as I’m told. And Damien just sits back and lets it all happen, even when I—”
I internally curse the waiter who appears with our order. She’s finally opening up, and I don’t want her to run back and slip back into her shell.
“Daisy,” I hedge, but she shakes her head.
“Sorry, must be all the bubbly getting to my head. I don’t know what I’m saying. Was I really complaining about having an ass? Talk about being tone deaf when there are much more important things happening in the world. Ignore me. Tell me when you’re planning on looking for dresses, Isa. I’m assuming Mateo wants to run down the aisle with you as soon as possible.” She pours herself a full glass of water and brings it to her lips before I can wrap my head around her full one-eighty.
Isabella doesn’t get a chance to answer, since the doors to the private room burst open, and Nick strides in with a big grin on his face, walking straight toward us.
“What are you guys doing here? We have at least two more hours of girl time before we’re meeting at the theater,” Daisy complains as her brother plants a kiss on the top of her head, then squeezes Isabella’s shoulder in hello.
I lift my face, expecting a kiss, when I’m suddenly lifted. “What the hell?”
Nick takes my seat and promptly sits me sideways on his lap. “There, that’s much better. Now greet me, wife. Plant one on me.” His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and I throw my head back in laughter.
He takes full advantage and places quick kisses all over my neck.
“I think a dog with a full bladder has more patience than he does. As soon as we met up, he was ready to dash and crash your party. I’m surprised he allowed you guys to wrap up your brunch before hauling us over here,” Mateo says as he grabs extra chairs for him and Luke.
“I don’t know what you’re moaning about, Martinez. The second I told you Isabella was only three blocks away, you had three hundred-dollar bills thrown on the table with your ass out of the chair.”
“It’s polite to leave a tip,” he mutters as he takes a seat next to Isabella and places a sweet kiss on her lips.
“We ordered three coffees.”
“Didn’t know billionaires were so cheap,” Mateo jabs.
“Easy there, Martinez. Before my husband goes and buys this place just to prove a point.” My hands cradle the back of his neck as I lean down and give him what I thought would be a quick kiss but quickly turns into something much steamier.
“Children,” Luke huffs.
