The Book of Broken Hearts by Sarah Ockler Read Free Book Online Page A

Please don’t notice the family resemblance. . . .
    “Let me do the talking,” I said.
    “ Hola, mi amor .” Mom kissed my cheek and gave Emilio the side eye. “Where’s your father?”
    “Taking a nap. This is—”
    “Emilio,” he said, and I winced, hoping he wouldn’t say the V word.
    Mom looked at him a moment, assessing. “Are you . . . one of Jude’s boyfriends?”
    “ Mom! God.” Mari was the one with the string of random dudes all through high school. The only boy I’d ever brought home was Dylan Porter in tenth grade, my first-last-and-only boyfriend, ancient history. “Don’t be weird. He’s the mechanic. The one we hired to fix the bike.”
    “Oh! Sorry, querida ,” Mom said. “I was confused. It seems like you two are old friends already.”
    “Tryin’ my best, but she keeps shootin’ me down.” Emilio flashed another dimpled smile and leaned in close, our arms brushing. Beneath the faint smell of gasoline and metal, a warm wave of leather and fabric softener wafted up. His muscles tensed as if he were trying not to laugh.
    I was trying not to die , not that anyone cared.
    “Are you staying for dinner, Emilio?” Mom asked. “I’m making milanesa napolitana .”
    “He can’t,” I said before she launched into a description of her mouthwatering creation. I should’ve seen it coming.Feeding people—friends, family, notorious bad boys—was pretty much her holy mission in life, a mission that even trumped the no-strangers-in-the-house rule. “He has a thing.”
    Emilio was laughing now. “I do?”
    “Yeah, you know. Your thing!” I stared at him with wide, desperate eyes. Basketball practice, chess club meeting, monster truck rally . . . Make something up!
    “Right. My . . . thing. Guess I forgot.”
    “Some other time, then.” Mom watched us for, like, five hours. “Oh! Look at me, talking off your ears. I’ll leave you alone to say good-bye. Nice to meet you, Emilio. I don’t know why Juju said your name was Eddie. You don’t look like an Eddie. Emilio suits you so much better—”
    “Mom! Go inside before you hurt someone.”
    She was practically blushing. What was with the women in this family? Vargas was like Hernandez Lady Kryptonite!
    Thank God I had my father’s genes.
    “Good thing I’m such a charmer with the parents,” Emilio said once Mom was gone. “Otherwise, this boyfriend thing wouldn’t stand a chance.” Emilio winked, straddled the bike, and jumped on the kickstart, which I now knew, thanks to his helpful lesson, was just for show.
    Who’s this hottie you’ve got working at the house?
    What’s Mari talking about? Hottie?
    OMG, what’s Lourdes talking about? Do you have a new boyfriend?
    FINALLY! I hope you’re being careful!
    It had been less than two hours since Mom met Emilio, and already my public Facebook wall—yes, public, thank you!—glittered with my sisters’ peanut gallery commentary. Was nothing in this family sacred? Five women, and after decades of shared news and gossip, it was still like the nonstop telephone game. At least Mom had left out his name. So far.
    Delete, delete, delete, delete.
    I thunked my head on the desk and closed my eyes, my sisters’ questions flashing behind my eyelids. No, I didn’t have a boyfriend, so no, there was no need to be careful. And if my sisters found out just who this hottie not-boyfriend was, they’d kill me anyway. Lourdes would be on the next plane to New York, Celi would meet her at JFK, they’d rent a Prius and speed all the way to Denver without stopping once to pee, they’d snag Mari, and the Holy Trinity would be on the scene by morning, looming over me at the breakfast table, hands on hips, demanding an explanation.
    “It’s fine,” I said to the family of stuffed owls on my bed. Emilio was temporary. A means to an end. As soon as the bike was running, he’d be out of my life, and “Vargas” would never again pass my lips.
    Over.
    Done.
    Terminado .
    I nodded