Work Text:
“That's ridiculous! Rodrigo would never court Angélica in front of the whole town until he broke things off with María!” Mirabel argued.
Bruno shrugged. “I'm just saying, Rodrigo might not be -”
“What was that?!” Mirabel exclaimed as a seeming wave of rain crashed into Casita, followed by lightning and thunder, interrupting that deep discussion of the rat telenovela's next story arc.
“I think your cousin is still out,” Bruno replied with an unusual edge in his voice.
“The real miracle is when Camilo is home at night,” she replied, rolling her eyes at her aunt’s theatrics.
“… not that cousin,” he said, looking somewhat… angry?
“Ooooooh.”
“Yeah. Frankly, I don’t like it myself. How dare he play with her reputation like that?”
“Tío Bruno, Dolores is a grown woman.”
“But she’s still Pepa and Félix daughter! And he’s not even proposed!”
Mirabel was now rolling her eyes at her uncle’s theatrics. “Only every other time she sees him.”
“He’s not spoken with Pepa or Félix, though, so it’s empty words. I can’t believe that his mother is allowing this to go on.”
“So they’re either sitting in Señora Guzmán’s living room, or are out walking. Or were.”
Shortly after, they could hear the banging on the front door from Bruno's tower. He grinned. “I predict that your aunt got the result she wanted.”
Curiosity overwhelming her indignation on behalf of her cousin, Mirabel hopped off his bed and ran out to the landing, where she saw the usually well-coiffed couple slumping into the courtyard, bedraggled.
Her other uncle strolled down the stairs smiling, her still stormy aunt trailing him. “Good evening, cariño!” - he said with warmth, then narrowed his eyes and continued with a cooler - “… and Mariano.”
Still handsome despite the soaking, he replied, “Señor Félix, I can explain…”
Pepa thundered again. “Explain what you were doing out with our daughter alone, after dark?!”
“Talking about our future.”
“Until you have a talk with her parents, it’s just sweet nothings,” Bruno supplied from behind her.
Dolores and Mirabel’s eyes met and rolled, but Dolores’ parents both sharply nodded.
Mariano looked down at the ground for a few moments, then straightened. “I‘ve never intended anything other than marriage with your daughter.”
“You were kinda betrothed to my other niece for a while there,” Bruno pointed out.
Félix, Pepa and even Mirabel looked at Bruno sharply, but Dolores turned to Mariano. “Did you actually end the betrothal?”
“Uhhhh… Isabela pretty much said it with flowers,” he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose in memory.
“But did you two actually agree to break the contract?” Bruno pressed.
“Uhhhh… I don’t know.”
Everyone rolled their eyes at that, including Dolores.
“Did they?” Mirabel asked her all-hearing cousin.
“I deliberately ignored them,” she answered, her usually placid face clouding.
“Alright, there’s one person who would know,” Mirabel said.
“Abuela?” Félix asked.
“Isabela,” Mirabel and Bruno replied.
A multicolor swirl of petticoats swung down on a vine of unnaturally blue flowers. “You called?”
“Isa, did you break your betrothal to Mariano?” Mirabel asked.
“I said it with flowers. Twice.”
“But the contract?” Bruno pressed.
“What contract?” Isabela asked airily.
“The one you signed,” Pepa contributed.
“Oh, that? We were supposed to sign it after dinner, I think. Abuela was in charge of that, though.” She slung a vine back to the balcony, but apparently seeing that something more was expected of her, added, “But just in case: Mariano, I free you from our betrothal, if we actually had one.”
Everyone sighed in relief.
“Young man…” Félix began.
“Uh, Señora Pepa, Señor Félix… I would like to court your daughter.”
“And your intentions?” Bruno prompted.
“Marriage!” Mariano exclaimed. At Mirabel and Isabela’s hard looks, he added, “but only if she wants!”
“I do,” Dolores answered much more quietly. She then cleared her throat and said firmly, “I do want to marry him, Mamá, Papá.”
“Do you still have your and Tío Félix’s contract, Tía Pepa?” Mirabel asked, trying to blunt the next downpour.
“Por supesto,” she replied, “but how long will it take to copy?”
“Mirabel types fast,” Dolores and Bruno said, simultaneously, and all the Madrigals, present and future, laughed together.