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CESAR ALONSO
My dearest darling invited me to accompany her to her mother's wedding. I could not, in good conscience, leave her alone with the sons of her rival.
As usual, I waited in the living room of Isa's home, as she was still getting ready.
"Cesar ~ How do I look?" She sang my name melodiously. "Stunning as always, wifey," I murmured, watching her twirl in front of me.
She graced me with her radiant smile, "You look quite handsome yourself." We exchanged some light-hearted conversation as we made our way to the car.
Her emerald dress clung perfectly to her form, accentuating her curves.
We were in Las Vegas, a top destination on my bucket list.
"Care to share?" Isabella looked in my direction—or rather, I looked in hers.
"Nothing serious," I said, taking her hand; soft, small, and warm compared to my cold and large one.
Upon entering the venue, all eyes turned towards us.
"That's why you should never hold my hand, Cesar. People might mistake us for a couple."
Her usual rant. Blah. Blah. Blah. She's my best friend; I have the right to hold her hand, don't I?
"Let's sit there." Completely ignoring her words, we made our way to a table close to the stage—where the wedding would take place—right beside the Kims.
Those seven boys from South Korea glanced at me, then at our intertwined hands.
An involuntary smirk formed on my face. "Hello, Kims," I said, moving forward to pull out Isabella's chair.
We sat and chatted. "You're getting these seven ordinary boys from Korea as your step-siblings?" I asked, my annoyance palpable.
"Disappointed but not surprised. Yeah," she replied in a bored tone. "How are you even going to survive these chaotic people?"
"God knows how. Who knows what will happen to me next?" She rolled her eyes.
After a few minutes, she sang while scrolling through her iPhone, "Let's get married in Vegas, we don't need a guest list." She looked at me and winked, her lips curling into a wide grin at my reaction.
