They’re horrible at this.

It occurs to me that all but Sophia are here, and why the hell aren’t my sisters at work instead of skulking around town spying on me? It takes Mariana a good forty-five minutes to get into the city, and that’s when there’s no traffic.

Why do they so obviously hate me?

I pull the ball cap on my head down further, knowing it’s far too late in the game to hide but attempting it regardless.

“You don’t look so good,” True observes, biting into a slice of pizza. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Your face got really pale.” Her eyes flit back and forth between my face and my sisters’ table. My face.

Their table.

“Does your sick stomach have anything to do with that group of girls sitting over there?” She tilts her head in their general direction but doesn’t point or stare.

I’m not sure what to say.

“Because they’ve been staring at us since they walked in. It’s almost like they know you.” She considers this. “Or maybe they’re super fans.” True is biting down on a slice of pizza, the mozzarella melting off one side. “Do you think they’re fans, or am I just being paranoid?”

One, you’re not being paranoid, and two, those are my sisters and I’m going to single-handedly strangle each and every one of them when I get my hands on them.

Why the hell I thought Gloria could be trusted to keep my location secret from the others is beyond me; I should never have even told her the woman I was meeting for lunch is the same girl I slept with at Buzz Wallace’s wedding (who ghosted me), and I sure as hell shouldn’t have mentioned we were having pizza, or at what restaurant, or at what time.

I am such a goddamn moron. I basically gave them my itinerary!

This was way too tempting an opportunity for them to resist, and my sisters aren’t fools.

I get it—they wanted to see what True looks like, though they’ve no doubt google-searched her a million times.

They wanted to see her in person.

¡Estúpido, estúpido, estúpido!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You would think I would have learned my lesson the first time this happened—yes, it’s happened before.

Remember, I just said I’m a moron.

Three years ago to be exact, when I was dating an actress on a daytime soap opera—a telenovela, specifically, and one they all absolutely adore. They wanted to meet this fiery Latina beauty in person, but I wasn’t ready to introduce her to the family, so they did what any self-respecting girl gang would do: they ambushed me.

Showed up to that date—a romantic dinner in the park—and pretended to stumble upon us before proceeding to set up their own picnic a few feet away, killing the entire mood.

I should have known that relationship with Eva wasn’t going to last long—she was horrified by my sisters’ behavior, their fawning, their lack of etiquette, how loud they were.

And I was horrified by Eva’s lack of enthusiasm for my blood; it was a turn-off the way she treated my sisters, the way she spoke about them afterwards, the way her eyes sparkled when she ridiculed them.

She showed her true colors, and that was when I knew she was not my forever person.

Which makes me wonder…how would True Wallace behave if the Espinoza clan were to let loose on her? If my sisters got up from their table, made their way over, and—

“Oh my god, are you José Espinoza?” The high-pitched squeal interrupts and comes from Mariana’s mouth, the oldest of the bunch though not nearly as mature as she should act at her age.

She calls me José because that’s the name the team officially uses for publicity, smug smile tipping the corner of her bratty mouth. She may be older than I am, but goddamn she’s acting childish.

“Oh my god, I can’t even believe it! Eek! Can I have your autograph?”

Mariana is carrying on as if she’s meeting a real-life celebrity, like a rock star or movie star.

What a sarcastic dick.

She comes bearing a napkin and a pen, thrusting it toward me the same way a fan might do, if she were an actual fucking baseball enthusiast.

It takes all my self-control not to swat her dumb hand away.

I’m conflicted. Do I bust my sisters and have to admit to True that they’re spying liars, or do I pretend they’re complete strangers?

A few heads in the place turn.

I sigh.

“True, this is my sister Mari. Mari, this is True.”

Mariana shifts in her sneakers, rocking on her heels, studying True Wallace. “Your name is True? Like True or false? Or is it a nickname?” The rest of the bunch hovers behind her, waiting for their turn to humiliate me.

Immature and rude!

I want to die.

“That’s my actual name.” True graciously puts her hand out for my sister to shake. “It’s good to meet you, Mari.”