“You’ve never had alcohol?” Gabby’s expression turned impish. “Not even a gulp of tequila to celebrate el Día de la Independencia?” “Of course not,” she sputtered. “Have you?” Isabel snorted while Gabby threw her hands wide. “Sí. Many times.” Ana María’s gaze darted between her sisters, who stared back with exasperation. “Siempre tan perfecta,” Isabel murmured, but there was no ire in her words. “Not anymore it seems. And the worst part is that the only reason I even knew what had happened was that Señor Fox told me.” She moaned, dropping her head to her chest. “He strikes me as an honorable
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