Julian locks eyes on Deputy Roberts. “My mom set me up on a few dates with Roberts’s ex.”
Roberts takes great pleasure in cuffing me, although Julian seems about one second away from having an aneurism.
“I’m sorry,” he says as soon as we are placed in the back of the cruiser.
I remain quiet as I consider where everything went wrong in the last ten minutes. Julian checks in with me multiple times during the car ride, but my anxiety has officially taken over, and I see no end in sight.
Getting thrown in a holding cell because of a personal vendetta against Julian isn’t doing wonders for my mood. Whatever bliss I felt in the truck has long since disappeared, leaving me antsy and irritable as I pace the perimeter.
Roberts didn’t charge us with anything, although the photo he took of us in the holding cell is damning enough. I pray it doesn’t make it on the internet.
I wrap my hands around the metal bars and shout, “This is unconstitutional!”
Julian takes a seat on the most uncomfortable-looking metal bench. “Welcome to Lake Wisteria.”
I grip the bars and attempt to shake them to no avail. “Roberts! What about our right to a phone call or bail?”
No one answers my shout.
Asshole.
I press my forehead against the cold metal. “So, what? He’s going to leave us here to rot because he hates you?”
“Eh. I give him a few hours before he calls our mothers to come pick us up.”
“Our mothers?” I turn on my heels with a screech.
“I overheard him telling one of the other deputies about it while you were busy having a private conversation with yourself.” His shy smile doesn’t ease my anxiety.
My makeup might melt away from how hot my skin gets. “My mom is going to kill me when she finds out why we’re here.”
“Consider yourself lucky. Mine is going to start planning our wedding and invite the whole town.”
God help me get through tonight without ending up disowned or deceased.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Julian
Despite my best attempts at distracting Dahlia from our current situation, I find her getting lost in her thoughts numerous times throughout the night. I hate to see her spiraling, but there isn’t a lot I can do while trapped in a jail cell.
I know she regrets admitting she is falling in love with me. Just like I know she plans on fighting me every step of the way until either she accepts the truth or I give up.
Words will only get me so far, so instead of making her a promise she won’t believe anyway, I keep quiet and hold her tight against me until Roberts returns.
The deputy takes his sweet time walking over to us, only to stop in front of the door and turn toward Dahlia. “Ben told me about the prank you had planned. Sorry I ruined it.”
The asshole doesn’t sound the least bit sorry.
“What prank is he talking about?” I ask her.
She rises from the bench and stretches her legs. “A stupid one.”
Roberts leans against the bars. “Dahlia here planned on having you thrown in the back of a cruiser and dropped off at your mother’s house with the sirens on so all the neighbors would make a fuss.”
Although my mother would have happily filmed the whole thing, I would have died of embarrassment before making it up the driveway.
He shrugs. “Too bad I ruined Strawberry Sweetheart’s plan.”
Dahlia’s cheeks flush.
“Don’t call her that,” I snap.
His lips curl. “Did I strike a chord?”
I force my mouth shut.
Dahlia stares at me for a solid ten seconds without blinking. “Strawberry Sweetheart?”
My hands curl by my sides.
She frowns. “My contact name on your phone doesn’t stand for Satan’s Spawn, does it?”
Mierda. No wonder she is hesitant about falling in love with me if she thinks her contact information on my phone means that.
Roberts unlocks the door with a special sparkle in his eyes. “You’re both free to go, although I’m not sure you will feel that way once you see your mothers.”
“Gracias por eso, pendejo,” I mutter under my breath.
Gracias por eso, pendejo: Thanks for that, dick.
Dahlia drags her feet behind me as Roberts leads us through the station. She prolongs the inevitable by asking to use the restroom and grabbing a drink of water, which only excites Roberts more.
“Good luck.” He walks back to his desk, where he can watch our mothers’ reactions with glee.
Dahlia cringes at the expression on her mother’s face as we walk up to them. “Mami.”
“Not here,” she hisses before walking outside. It’s still dark, which means we couldn’t have spent too long in the cell, although it sure felt like forever.
Dahlia follows behind her mother with slumped shoulders while mine locks elbows with me and whistles.
“？En la camioneta de tu papá? ?En serio?”
“Ma.”
“I didn’t think you had something like that in you.”
I trip over my feet.
She swats my arm with a laugh. “It’s okay. That truck has seen a lot of miles over the years, so I’m not one to judge, although it’s a good thing you redid the whole interior.”
A full-body shudder rolls through me as we walk outside to find Rosa raising her arms in the air and whisper-shouting while Dahlia’s eyes drop to her boots.
“I raised you better than that.”
?En la camioneta de tu papá? ?En serio?: In your dad’s truck? Seriously?
Dahlia flinches.
“I expect something like this from your sister, but you? Nunca en mi vida.”
“Perdón, Mami.”
“The whole town is going to know about this by tomorrow morning.”
Dahlia looks as excited about the idea as I probably do.
Rosa’s arms flail. “What will I say when Father Anthony asks how I feel about my daughter going to hell for premarital sex?”
“Do me a favor and ask him if the weather is hot all year round so I can plan my outfits accordingly.”
“Dahlia Isabella Mu?oz! ?No empieces conmigo!”
My mom nudges me. “Let’s go save Dahlia before she reconsiders moving back here.”
A little too late for that after her call about Archer.
“Rosa!” My mom claps her hands together. “Let’s relax. They’re kids. It’s not like we can expect them to know any better.”
“Kids? I had Dahlia when I was her age.”
“And you did such a good job raising her—this little incident with the truck aside.” My mother wraps an arm around her childhood friend and steers her toward her car. I bet she will talk Rosa down from her tirade in two minutes flat.
I loop my arm around Dahlia’s waist and lead her to the sidewalk instead of my mother’s car. “What do you say we walk
Nunca en mi vida: Never in my life.
?No empieces conmigo!: Don’t start with me.
back to the truck instead?”
Her gaze swings from my mom’s car to me a few times while she gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “Okay.”
Dahlia remains quiet as we walk toward the diner. I only last sixty seconds before breaking the silence. “Did your mom actually believe you were saving yourself for marriage?”