Title: On This Day
Cristobal Rosales - July 10, 2012 02:39 PM (GMT)
July 7th, 2012
stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie for the fiftieth time. He never minded dressing up, if it was absolutely necessary, but he would have much preferred jeans. But today's suit was essential; after all, he was getting married today, and he didn't want his match to think that he was a total slob who thought their wedding was just another everyday occasion. He hoped he would only have to do this once, so he was doing it full out.
He flipped the ring he'd chosen for Coco like a quarter, watching the shiny object fall flat in the palm of his hand. Cristo hoped that she would like it, because he didn't know her and had no idea what her tastes might be. He had chosen this ring in particular because it was completely perfect in his mind. He was a fan of old movies, mostly B-films, and this reminded him of something that the hero in one of those would give to his new bride. He had always fancied himself the hero of a comedy of errors, which was essentially how he viewed his life.
As he left the dressing room at the chapel and strolled down the aisle, Cristo reflected on the people in the seats. Fortunately for him, none of these people were related to him. His father, dead twelve years, was the only one whose presence he felt at all, and only because Cristo had a tendency to always keep the man who had raised him in mind. The americano
and his cheating mother hadn't even been invited; he didn't care if he never saw either of them again. No matter what his birth certificate now said, the americano
(whose name he would always refuse to say out loud) was not
Arriving at the altar, he stood next to it while adjusting his tie for the fifty-first time. He slipped the ring casually in his pocket, and then put his hand down inside, the anxiety of losing it pressing hard against his brain. That would be the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him, not to mention a terrible omen. And he didn't want anything spoiling the day that was meant for him and for Coco.
Coco Guerriero. That was the name that was written on the letter from The Vow. Whatever she might do or say, he was certain that she wouldn't judge him for his foreign background, because, unless he was much mistaken, she had one, too. Perhaps Spanish, like his, Portuguese, or maybe one of the South American countries. That would be perfect, as far as he was concerned; it meant they had something in common right off the bat.
Coco Guerriero - July 11, 2012 12:54 AM (GMT)
Her proud and very self-satisfied mother, Eva, finished lacing the back of Coco’s
dress. Coco stared at herself in the mirror and wiped a single tear away as it started to fall down her perfectly and meticulously make-up painted face. This had been the dress she bought for the wedding she planned with David. It was incredibly beautiful, and she could not bring herself to return it even after he died. Staring in the mirror, all she could think about was that this was not her wedding to David, but to Cristobal. Cristobal Rosales.
Whenever she thought of the name, she had no face to attach to it, so instead, she thought of the letter she received from the Vow and the cursive script the name had been written in. Her mother had not noticed the tear and continued to doll Coco up with a matching, authentic, and pricey pearl necklace and earrings set.
The ring, unlike the dress, had been just for Cristobal. She had spent all day the day before searching for it. When she saw it, she immediately thought of simplicity and elegance; it had the same personality as the cursive script she associated with Cristobal. The price had not mattered, just like everything else in her life. She had learned young that money could buy you what you wanted but not what you needed, yet the money that she placed in the hands of the jeweler had done both when she bought this ring. It had bought her the ring she wanted and the new beginning she needed.
Finally finishing putting Coco together, Eva placed the wedding bouquet in her daughter’s hands. “I love you, Coco.”
She smiled and left Coco alone in the dressing room to claim her seat in the chapel next to Coco’s father, Alberto. In the silence, Coco set the flowers down, bowed her head, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands in front of her. “David,”
she sighed heavily, speaking as if he were really there, “I will always love you, and I know you want me to be happy without you, but-“
She began to choke up and wiped away the steady stream of tears away from her face, “I need you to help me. Please watch over me, and bless my marriage to this man I don’t know.”
She suppressed a pathetic laugh then heard the wedding music. Quickly, she threw on some more face powder, grabbed the flowers, and slipped the ring onto one of her own fingers for lack of a better place to keep it.
She emerged from her dressing room to walk down the aisle. She had strolled halfway down before realizing she had forgotten to put her veil on. Inwardly, she was absolutely flustered until she looked up the aisle to the man waiting for her at the end. He was unbelievably handsome. Her heart thanked David. She smiled. No more tears.
Cristobal Rosales - July 13, 2012 07:07 PM (GMT)
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. When his mother had been at home, Cristo had been subjected to multiple videos and audio tapes discussing various breathing techniques, meditations, and dance routines. While he hated thinking about them, because every thought reminded him of his mother, he was grateful for the calming breathing exercises that he had learned from them. Without that extra little boost of support from his brain, he was pretty sure that he would collapse under the strain. So much stuff was worrying him: was the ring okay? Would Coco like him? Would he like her? Was feeling this way normal for the groom?
To the last, he supposed the answer was probably, especially if the groom had never had too much success with a woman before. Well, there was one woman he'd had success with, but she was married now, and he'd already messed up with her once. He had no intention of sleeping with her again, especially now that he knew she was married, whereas the last time she'd completely kept it from him. He counted in his head the number of times that he had adjusted his tie, just to occupy it with something else until the processional music started.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a woman walk in and sit down next to a man. Cristo looked at them, his eyes focusing on their clothes. They didn't strike him as the hired type; the woman looked far too pleased with herself for that. He looked that the side of the aisle that would have made up his "family", and all of them (there were about ten altogether) looked as if they could drop dead of boredom at any moment. This woman on the other side of the aisle didn't have that air about her at all. This was the most obvious self-congratulation possible.
A few moments after that, the processional music began, and the man straightened to his full height, his nervous brain still wracking around and he gave the briefest thought to bolting for the nearest exit. He couldn't do that to himself, though; after all, he'd paid good money for this. It was what he wanted. Or, at least, what he was sure that he needed. And he wouldn't do that to Coco and the self-gratified woman in the pews, whoever she was. So he tugged his tie one final time (fifty-second in all), and turned to look down the aisle.
He was sure that his heart stopped. The woman coming down the aisle... she was maybe the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and that was saying a lot because he had seen a lot of beautiful women. She'd forgotten her veil, but Cristo couldn't say he missed the thin layer of gauzy lace in the least. Covering that face with any material, quasi-transparent or otherwise, was a sin. A deep, gouging, battering sin that would send the offender to the deepest circle of hell.
Cristo blinked. He was waxing poetic. He never did that, ever, not once in his whole life. His rational mind attempted to justify it as he was taken off-guard and therefore not to be held responsible, but his poetic mind was watching the approach of the woman in the white gown with a mixture of awe and terror. He could never, ever be good enough for her. Ever. And yet... here she was.
When she arrived at the altar, he wanted to say something, to introduce himself. But he couldn't make his lips move, couldn't force the words out. So instead, he held a shaky hand out, withdrew it to wipe the sweaty palm on his pant leg, and then offered it again, smiling in what he hoped was a confident, happy way.
Coco Guerriero - July 14, 2012 04:14 PM (GMT)
The pews on Coco’s side were, colorful. Her aunt from Portugal with her children, her father’s loud-mouth brother, and her very stuffy-looking grandparents had flew in with no idea that this marriage had been arranged. Each one was dressed perfectly, even the children. Eva didn’t tell anyone from home or in Portugal the truth about the wedding. She didn’t want Coco’s reputation to be spoiled; she was a Guerriero, after all. In bluss, the family all exchanged happy whispers commenting on Cristobal’s Spanish heritage. ‘Oh, what a charming young man he must be’ one whispered, ‘I wonder if he’s a native Spaniard’ whispered another. As soon as the music had started, they finally shut up. Alberto let out a sigh of relief.
It was unfortunate that her father had been unable to walk her down the aisle; he had torn a knee ligament the week before, and although he insisted he was fine, she insisted that he sit. As she walked, she wished she had her father to lean on. Her heart was racing inside her chest, and she was beginning to get a bit light-headed from the sheer improbability of being matched to someone like him. He had these eyes that she was enchanted by, and he had a perfect jaw-line. On top of everything else, he was tall. It wasn’t a well kept secret that every tiny girl in the world wants a tall man to wrap their arms around. He was just so perfect. She prayed he was just as beautiful on the inside as he appeared on the outside. She hoped he would like cuddling, dancing, watching movies and eating ice cream, books, and her.
She came to the end of the aisle, and he was just as gorgeous up-close as he was from afar, probably more so. On the inside, she laughed a little when he wiped off his hand but a wedding was no place for laughter, so she stifled it. It was cute, and somehow she loved him already. He didn’t even have to say a word. She put her hand in his and shook it politely. ‘That was strange…’ one of the children whispered and their mother immediately shushed them. Eva and Alberto exchanged pleasant looks, both knowing that their daughter had truly found something special. Her parents had wanted nothing more than for her to find love, especially with someone who could truly appreciate their culture. Coco leaned into Cristo, still holding his hand while she let the other hand rest on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Cristobal.”
Cristobal Rosales - July 20, 2012 06:12 PM (GMT)
All of those people, the ones on the bride’s side, they seemed so happy. Cristo, personally, was thrilled. He just hoped that the people on the other side, who were clearly members of Coco’s family, didn’t notice that the people on his side not only looked nothing like him, but also looked as if they didn’t want to be here at all. That might ruin Coco’s wedding day, and he didn’t want that. It felt strange to him, the fact that he didn’t know the woman walking toward him, but he still wanted to make her happy. She deserved every bit of happiness he could give her and more. He just hoped that he could be good enough for her, and that she wouldn’t care that he was a nerd. Oh, god. Please let her not mind nerds.
A strange flitter happened in his stomach when she took his hand, and when she leaned up, so close to him, he felt like he was going to faint. A smooth operator, he was not. She whispered in his ear, and he melted a little on the inside. Good grief. Was this how she was going to affect him all the time? There was a part of him that sort of hoped so, because there’d only ever been one other woman in his life, and she was married, and he wanted to move past that. But most of him didn’t think he’d be able to handle that kind of strain on his brain all the time. He might have a heart attack or something.
Please let me get through this without fainting, or thinking that she shouldn’t be here, Cristo prayed silently. He bent down (she was kind of short; he hoped she didn’t think he was a freakish giant or something), and very, very lightly kissed her cheek before leaning his lips up just a little bit and replying in a breathy whisper, ”It’s so nice to meet you, too, Coco. Are you ready?” He hoped that she was, and that she really wanted to do this, because now that she was here, the minister would start any minute, and it would be too late then for her to run out if that was what she wanted. He hoped not, but he didn’t think he would stop her if she did. He could never want anything more than for her to be happy in whatever decision she made.
Coco Guerriero - July 29, 2012 12:23 AM (GMT)
The Guerriero family, nor Coco, had truly noticed Cristo’s side of the pews. Coco had been far too enchanted by her future husband to look at anything else, and the rest of the Guerriero’s were far too interested in talking amongst themselves to even look over. He had no reason in the world to worry. Nothing could ruin this day for her as long as he stayed in that chapel and said the words ‘I do.’ She didn’t even know him, but it meant the world to her that he was standing next to her. Please, she silently prayed, please be a good husband.
She had no idea how he felt about her. Aside from her usual exterior of confidence and politeness, she was internally worrying. Did he think she was pretty? Did he want her there? Did he love someone else? What if he didn’t? She wasn’t sure how to tell if he felt as infatuated at first sight as she did. There should have been a predetermined secret vow code word that meant ‘oh god I don’t like you’ so at least then she’d know he wasn’t interested. At least then she wouldn’t be worrying herself into tiny little pieces.
Just as she thought she couldn’t take the worrying any longer, he leaned down and gently kissed her cheek. The worrying seemed to fade away, and all she could think about, besides his great height that she found so sexy, was what it would be like to have those lips on her own. She listened as he spoke and nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” She reluctantly turned away from him to listen to the minister. She ran her hand down his arm then slipped her hand into his and threaded her fingers with his. She hoped he didn’t mind, but she really couldn’t help herself from doing it. She had an irresistible desire to be touching him.
Cristobal Rosales - July 29, 2012 05:05 PM (GMT)
I hope that she's really ready, and not just faking that she might like me, because this would be very uncomfortable. In spite of being the happiest he could ever remember being, Cristo's mind was full of nothing but negative thoughts. Coco seemed like a wonderful lady, but looks could be deceiving, as his overwrought brain kept reminding him sullenly. What if this was just some sort of act? He thought she was beautiful, and he couldn't imagine anywhere else in the world that he'd rather be right at that moment, but what if she didn't feel the same way?
But as the minister started talking, he felt his fiancee's hand on his arm, moving slowly down toward his hand. She had the softest touch. Good grief. The muscles in his chest and shoulders were trembling lightly, as if his lungs and arms could seize up at any moment. Cristo did his best not to let her know, though, because he didn't want her to think that it was anything to do with her. Well... anything negative to do with her. None of the negative thoughts in his head were her fault. She was wonderful. He felt her fingers curl around his, and he looked down at their joined hands. Clearly, she wasn't thinking about running. He let out a sigh, careful to keep it quiet so that no one would know he'd been holding his breath.
The minister would talk to him first. Cristo knew enough about weddings to know that much. So he listened with great attention to the man in front of them, his heart seeming to reach up into his head and squash every bad thought that entered. That had to say something for Coco's effect on him, because it wasn't for everyone that he could squelch his worrywart nature. When the minister finally finished his prelude, he asked, "Cristobal Tadeo Rosales, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'til death do you part?"
The young man had to slowly exhale again, as he was still holding his breath, and he looked down into Coco's brilliant blue eyes. His smile lit his whole face as he replied, "I do." And with that done, now would come the moment of truth...
Coco Guerriero - July 31, 2012 05:12 PM (GMT)
When her mother had forced her into signing up for the Vow, she had never imagined that she would feel this way at her wedding. She had assumed she would be pitifully cynical, depressed, and trapped, yet here she was genuinely smiling for the first time in ages. She missed smiling. A girl like Coco could easily pretend to be interested in someone. She could fake anything if she tried hard enough, but she wasn’t. She truly, and wholeheartedly, was smitten by this stranger. Yesterday, he had just been name written in cursive font. Today, he was her knight in shining armor and husband. She noticed some of his little nervous quirks, and she adored him all the more for them. They were both vulnerable in this relationship.
Her hear flittered and fluttered in her chest as the minister spoke to Cristo. This was so very real, and her heart could hardly handle it anymore. She wanted so badly to sit and talk with him all alone. She wanted to know everything about him: good and bad. He seemed so perfect, but she knew all perfect people had flaws. What was his flaw? She was dying to know. As he looked down into her eyes, she looked up into his lovingly. She squeezed his hand with hers gently when he said ‘I do’. Inside, she was hoping that ‘til death did them part would last much longer than it had with her before. The idea of forever didn’t bother her at all.
The minister changed his focus to Coco, and she listened attentively, waiting for the moment she could express verbally a fraction of how she was feeling. Coco Elisa Guerriero, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, 'til death do you part?" Her face emulated the joy she was feeling, and her eyes glanced up into Cristo’s again. To have and to hold sounded wonderful right now. She could handle any sickness, and she knew she could handle the worst. Death couldn’t faze her anymore. She was ready for life, for better, for health. “I do.” Earlier, she thought her heart couldn’t take much more. She had learned differently though as her heart beat wildly in her chest. Screaming I do at the top of her lungs wouldn’t even have been able to convey how ready she was to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Rosales.
Cristobal Rosales - July 31, 2012 10:26 PM (GMT)
Cristo was a thousand percent sure that his heart stopped when he saw the look in Coco's eyes, so much so that he almost dropped the ring he had chosen as he tried with a shaking hand to slide it onto her finger. Was that... love he saw as she stared back up at him? He hoped so. Oh, God, he hoped so. Because it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; the love in somebody else's eyes for him. If it was. And he was thinking too hard again; he knew, because he felt his heart thudding in his temples, and his face was hot as the minister turned his attention to his stunning, sweet bride to be. As in, like, a matter of moments. He gently squeezed her hand back, thinking about how much he wanted to go out as soon as the wedding was over and get a real ring, one made of gold or silver and however plain or decorative she wanted it. A ring she could be proud of.
Oh. Good. Grief. He wanted to be able to breathe. He couldn't really, at the moment. He knew he'd been holding his breath since he'd seen her walking toward him, but this was different. He wasn't holding his breath so much as it just wasn't coming in quick enough bursts for him to really catch it. He was so afraid that she wasn't going to like him, that in spite of the look in her eyes, she was contemplating running up the aisle and never setting eyes on him again. He didn't think he could stand it. He'd probably drop dead right then and there if it happened.
But it didn't. The minister asked her the same question he'd asked Cristo, and she gazed up at him with that fantastic look in her mesmerizing eyes. And she said it. Her I do. His heart was turning somersaults. He was looking forward to spending the rest of his life carrying out his husbandly duties. Loving, honoring, protecting, cherishing... whatever they were, as long as none of them was leaving or hurting, and that went for any reason, including death. He couldn't stand the thought of her being alone. It hurt too much. Maybe that was what love was; worrying more about the other person than yourself. He was ready to find out.
There was nothing left now except for the kiss, and it would have been a lie to say that it was the part he was looking forward to the most. The minister said those last words, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." It had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone. But, in spite of his typical shy nature, he was going to take initiative this time.
Bending down, he put his hands lightly on her cheeks, cupping her face. He let his forehead rest against hers for just a moment, loving the feel of the soft skin against his, and then gave her the softest, tenderest, most romantic kiss he could summon. It was pacifying and electrifying all at once, and he felt his heart start up again, thunderously loud in his temples. And when the kiss was over, he sought out her hand once more, to hold for the first time as husband and wife.
Coco Guerriero - August 1, 2012 05:10 PM (GMT)
Coco watched as he slipped the ring on her finger. He wasn’t the smoothest guy she had ever met, but it didn’t bother her a bit. She learned young that the smoothest operators were the biggest jerks. She focused her attention on the ring itself; it was unlike any wedding ring she had ever seen before. It wasn’t traditional by any means, but then again, neither were they. It was beautiful in an unconventional way, and she didn’t mind. Her mother probably wouldn’t like it, and her father would probably think it looked cheap. It didn’t occur to her to mind though, and for possibly the first time, she didn’t care if something she had was expensive. Honestly, the shoes on her feet cost her over a thousand dollars.
It was now her turn to slip the ring she had bought him onto his hand. She really hoped he liked it; it was a man’s man kind of ring. It made a statement through simplicity. He truly outshined that ring. All he had to do was say he didn’t like it, and Coco would run through every jewelry store in the world to find one that was good enough for him. She would spend any amount of money on him if he asked her too. In heart, she knew he wouldn’t ask her to though. He knew nothing of the Guerriero money, and here he was. She held his hand just a bit longer after getting the ring onto his finger. She had a hard time letting go of him. The smile on her lips continued to shine on her face.
The moment had come. It was undoubtedly what she had been waiting for the entire ceremony. She was nearly positive that it was impossible for a man to look like that and be a bad kisser. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” She heard the magic words and felt his hands on her face, then her forehead to hers, then his lips to hers. She was convinced that her hypothesis was correct; she had never been kissed like that in her life ever before. It was the single most enchanting kiss she’d ever experienced, and she could hardly feel her heart racing anymore as she kissed him back with everything she had. She had always thought people didn’t just fall in love, but maybe, they did. As the kiss ended, her smile was unstoppable, and her fingers intertwined with his. Her mother wiped a tear away, and the entire family clapped politely for their dear Coco.
Cristobal Rosales - August 16, 2012 06:48 PM (GMT)
Cristo’s eyes flicked down to the ring that she was sliding onto his hand. It was perfect, much better than anything he’d owned prior to that. It made him feel horrendous that he’d picked out something so inexpensive. But he had promised himself that he would buy an inexpensive ring until he could get to know his fiancée better. And he wanted to get to know Coco much better. Because she was wonderful, and he’d only known her for about half an hour now. He felt (or perhaps hoped) that she would be just as wonderful as she seemed. She’d showed up, had said I do, and she deserved a better ring. He would get her one.
Their kiss was the best that he’d ever had. She kissed him back, which was something that he hadn’t expected. He figured that he’d be grateful for that until the end of time, because she didn’t have to be nice to him. She didn’t have to like him, or anything. But she seemed to, and it was amazing to him. No woman, as far as he knew, had ever thought of him as much more than a friend. This wasn’t the kind of kiss you just gave a friend. When it was done, he grinned brightly down at her.
He bent his head down and whispered quietly, ”Thank you so much. I thought this was going to be one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done, but it’s been one of the easiest. I think that’s mostly because of you. Thank you.” He squeezed her fingers gently and gave her another smile. And then he bent to whisper. ”I hope you will forgive me, but I don’t do well in crowds. I hadn’t planned on having any sort of reception, but if you want one, I would be more than happy to stay. I have to admit, though, that I feel a little uncomfortable in a tuxedo…” He gave her a sheepish look.
Coco Guerriero - August 27, 2012 03:54 AM (GMT)
Expensive or inexpensive didn’t matter a bit. She would shower him with all the things in the world if he asked for them. Somehow, she had fallen quickly for this handsome stranger and couldn’t imagine if it had been someone else waiting at the altar for her. It could have been someone hideously ugly, strange, arrogant, fake, and any other poor character trait you could think of, but here he was. This perfect man was her husband. He seemed kind, humble, and incredibly beautiful. The kiss they shared only moments before had set the entire marriage in motion, and what a beginning kiss it was! She was still reeling from the overwhelmingly warm and fuzzy feelings.
After a kiss like that, the sound of his voice made her heart do leaps, bounds, flips, and triple back hand springs like Gabby Douglas performing at Olympic gymnastics. She nodded as he spoke, listening intently. The whispering was driving her crazy; his voice was far too beautiful to be muted, but every second he went on whispering she treasured it more and more. The already comfortingly familiar squeeze of her hand by his and smile set her even more at ease. She didn’t mind not having a party or ridiculously awkward family gathering. If anything, she wanted to have her husband to herself so she could ask him every question she could think of and enjoy more of those kisses. “I could thank you for the same things,” she smiled brightly right back at him, “And I don’t mind at all. I’d love to be alone with you, and,” she held his hand and brought her face closer to his to peck his cheek, “You look great in a suit.” He was tall, dark, and handsome. How could he wear a suit and not completely redefine sexy?
Cristobal Rosales - August 27, 2012 07:36 PM (GMT)
The day was everything he could have ever wanted. Cristo still couldn't believe his incredible luck, even as Coco said her own thanks to him, and spoke and kissed his cheek. It took everything in his power to not flush horribly from her attention. There had to be something at work in this union, something that was divine and greater than anything he could have imagined. He was not entirely unconvinced that his father didn't have something to do with it. Miguel had probably been looking down from heaven, noticed his son's loneliness and sorrow, and had asked for something that would cure the young man of his pain.
If this wasn't evidence that there were deceased loved ones watching over the living still on earth, then Cristo didn't know what was. There was no way that the amazing and yet still fallible Vow service could have picked someone so suited to him without some kind of divine intervention. Most people would call his good fortune 'luck', but he would always consider it 'fate'. Hopefully, if he ever admitted as much to Coco, she wouldn't call him an idiot. He didn't think that she would, but there was always the chance that someone who didn't believe in that sort of thing would be unimpressed by the evidence.
It was, perhaps, the knowledge that, if they left now, they would be alone for the rest of the afternoon, which spurred Cristo into action. He leaned in to lightly brush his lips against hers once more, and then gestured toward the changing area. "I'm just going to go put on my other clothes, and then we can get out of here. Wait for me; I won't be more than a minute or two. I promise. Please, please wait." Begging. As if he thought she was an apparition, too good to be true, and would vanish if he took his eyes off of her for a moment.
Coco Guerriero - September 3, 2012 04:28 AM (GMT)
Coco knew all too well that divine forces were at work. She was absolutely convinced that her dead fiancée had his hand in bringing them both together today. Before, she thought she would feel guilty marrying someone else, but here she was. Her guilt was overwhelming overpowered by how thankful she was. This was the most serendipitous situation she could ever imagine; he seemed so perfect. They felt so perfect. She could hardly contain her joy.
She smiled and shook her head, “You’re so silly, of course I’ll wait.” She would wait forever if that’s how much time he needed. Marriage wasn’t something she took lightly. Marriage meant forever, and she was fully expecting forever with this man. She had already loved him in the last half hour than most people love in a lifetime. He could be her forever.They could age together and become even more beautiful together; she always felt that the faces of men and women who experienced true love always aged more gracefully than others. She watched as her mother strolled towards her, and she was all the more reminded of aging gracefully. After more than enough congratulations from the Guerriero family, her eyes began to glance towards the direction her Cristo had gone before.
“Mother,” Coco whispered into her ear, “We do not plan on having a party today, if you would please deal with everyone, please?” She learned long ago that saying please twice often swayed her mother. She might have taught Coco to throw a party for almost everything, but she also wholeheartedly insisted on over-politeness. Despite her disappointment, she nodded with a small smile. Sad to be letting her daughter go, Eva hugged her and whispered back, “Of course.” Coco smiled brightly, “Gracias mama.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and glanced once again, waiting for her handsome husband.