“Te gusta?” “Mamá, por Dios es mi—” “Tell me the truth,” she incessantly demands. “I’ve only known her for six weeks.” “Your father knew me for a week and knew I was the one.” “Yeah, well this is different,” I retort and attempt to pull my head back, but she has a strong grip on my chin. “She’s really pretty.” She is, she really fucking is.
