Falling With Grace

She let out a sorrowful sigh and released the photograph. I picked up the stiff, white-outlined picture and stared at it. “Is that his brother?”

“His best friend…” Rosa’s blank stare turned towards me as she tilted her head. “Andrés.”

19

Elias

“We’ll take the brown napkins.” I stared at the overwhelming array of napkin samples as the clock on the wall ticked.

Who needs this many options?

“Stop.” Nadia’s hand settled on my forearm, her touch light but insistent. “Brown?” Her voice was an irritated whisper. “That won’t go with our color scheme.”

Is that the time?

I glanced down at my watch, double-checking as I shirked her touch.

Brochures, catalogs, and portfolios littered the table next to us, and beside that were sixteen half-eaten cake samples lined up, each with a card below detailing the flavors, fillings, and frostings.

An eternity passed in the hours we’d spent on the wedding charade, the event coordinator proving just as useless as those napkins.

My arms sat crossed over my chest, my molars tight against one another as Nadia determined each option, color scheme, and flavor.

What is the purpose of my presence?

My foot tapped on the floor as I pulled out my phone. “I like brown.”

Nadia narrowed her gaze, and raised her shaped brow. “Since when?”

Since the key to solving all of my problems walked into my life.

Grace fell into my lap like a gift from God—a mute gift, but a gift all the same.

If I could get her to open up to me, she’d spill everything she’d learned while in his compound, including the location, his comings and goings, and acquaintances.

I glanced down at the camera feed on my phone’s screen.

Where is she?

Ishould be with her, gaining her trust, hoping she’d spill every intricate detail about his life, but instead, I was stuck doing the wedding planner’s job and wasting precious time.

“Nadia…”

Her shoulders tensed as she glanced at the rail-thin woman sitting across from us, her face wrinkled with age. “He’s just kidding about the brown.” She reached across the table, grabbed the napkin samples, and splayed them out. “Here.” She pointed. “I like this shade of red.”

What was Grace doing now?

My gaze shifted towards the woman Ma envisioned as my future spouse. The woman I had selected to carry on my lineage, to build a family with, to continue my legacy as my papa did before me.

She was beautiful with her flowing black locks, almond-shaped brown eyes, and a pert nose—a true steal, a remarkable catch.

So why was I thinking about another woman instead of enjoying this moment?

Reaching over, I clasped her hand, squeezing it. “Let’s take a break.” I let go of her hand before rising from my seat and tucking my phone into my jacket inside pocket. “We can resume this discussion another time.”

Her bottom lip puckered as though she were an adolescent. “But we haven’t selected the tablecloths yet.”

“I’m confident Juana can handle those details, don’t you think?” I surveyed the room and then focused on the wedding planner, who sat upright in her chair.