The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 20

I opened my mouth to confirm that, but she didn’t give me the chance.

“Perfect,” she cut in. “That is such a beautiful dress, Lina. It’s classy and flirty.”

Flirty? What was that supposed to mean?

“Your boobs will be entering the banquet before you.”

Oh … oh. So, that was what she meant.

“But the color does really flatter your skin, body shape, and face. Not like the frog dress.” Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I don’t think I’ll ever wear green again.”

“Good,” she said far too quickly for taking it as a good-hearted comment. “So, what’s this boyfriend of

yours going to wear? Are you going to match? Papá got a tie in the same shade of baby blue I’ll be

wearing.”

A tiny groan slipped out of my mouth. “Mamá, you know that Isa hates that. She specifically told us not

to match.”

My sister had been very insistent—no matching couples. I even had to fight her over not adding that

instruction on the invites. It’d cost me a lot of energy and patience to convince her that she didn’t want

to be that kind of bride.

“Well, given that I gave birth to the bride and that I already bought that tie for Papá, I think your sister is

going to have to make an exception.”

Leave it to her to be stubborn. I certainly was, my sister probably even more, but our mother? The

woman had created the term bullheaded as she opened her eyes to the world the day she was born.

“I think she’ll have to,” I admitted under my breath.

Reaching for my planner, I scribbled on my to-do list to call Isa to warn her.

“I have an online voucher you can use, I think,” Mamá commented while I unlocked my laptop and

absently checked my inbox. “Although maybe it does not work outside Spain. But it should, shouldn’t it?

You are my daughter, and you should be able to use my vouchers, no matter where you are in the

world. Isn’t that what the internet is supposed to be for?”

I clicked on an email notification for a new series meeting I had received. “Yeah, sure.” A quick scan of

the contents of the description told me I should have probably waited for my mother to hang up before

opening it.

“Yeah, sure, the internet is for that? Or yeah, sure, you’ll use my voucher?”

I leaned back on my seat, reading through the information attached.

“Lina?”

What are we even talking about? “Yes, Mamá.”

“Well, you’ll have to check the voucher yourself; you know I am not good with this internet thing.”

“Of course,” I said, still not knowing what I was agreeing to.

“Unless he has a tie already?”

He.

All my attention returned to the conversation.

“Does he?” she insisted when I didn’t answer. “Your new boyfriend.”

Small beads of sweat formed on my forehead at the prospect of discussing this.

Him.

The boyfriend I didn’t have but my family believed I did.

Because I had told them.

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