by Elena Armas
The proof was last night. We had almost kissed. We had done more than just that. More than practicing or pretending.
Crazy. It was crazy, but it was also true. I was honest enough to admit that to myself.
But that didn’t mean I was brave enough to acknowledge it out loud. I was still the coward who had walk-of-shamed her way out of that room like her ass was on fire before I was forced to have a conversation.
And I’d do that again.
Aaron would soon become my boss, and that would change everything. Having him here—in Spain, in my home country, attending my sister’s wedding as my fake date—was already dangerous. It was reason enough for me to shake in my boots at the prospect of someone at work finding out. It didn’t have anything to do with a weird company policy or with me having a pet peeve. I had already been involved with someone where a supervisory relationship between us had existed, where I had not been the one in the position of authority. And where had that led me? To being the only one having to deal with the dirty and poisonous tongues that hadn’t thought twice before stigmatizing me and everything I had worked so hard for. Just for what? For a few laughs? For pointing a few fingers? For bringing me down, so they’d feel a little better?
History could repeat itself, and this time, I would be the one to blame. It would be me who had tripped over the same stone for a second time. This time, I’d be jeopardizing my career, too, not just the credibility of my work, my reputation as a woman, or my social life. And it would all be on me.
Taking another sip of coffee from my mug, I tried to shove all that aside.
Whatever I thought was going on between Aaron and me would have to … not go. Anywhere.
Because it couldn’t. It wouldn’t. And it was all a lie anyway.
As if the very devil was being summoned by Charo, who kept talking about him, or by me, who kept thinking about him one way or the other, Aaron materialized in the kitchen. His eyes immediately found me, as if I were the only thing between these four walls.
My mug froze midair. My lips parted, and my gaze was hungry to take all of him in. But how could I not? The simple tee that covered his broad chest did nothing to hide a body I now knew had been carefully cultivated to perfection for years. Decades. Those loose pajama pants I had seen hanging low on his hips last night still did. Enticing me. Making me think of how he had pressed those hips into me with painfully delicious softness.
But it was the look on his face that started—no, rekindled—the fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach. His features were seemingly snug with sleep, relaxed, and his hair was adorably ruffled. But his eyes … well, there wasn’t a trace of sleep there. They told a whole different story. One I had the strong suspicion was extremely similar to the one bubbling in mine.
And that only encouraged the flutter to take flight and spread to the rest of my body.
Averting my gaze before all this gawking and daydreaming damaged my brain, I forced my lungs to take in the oxygen my body seemed to need in that moment.
“Ay!” Charo’s screech made me flinch. “Mira quién está aquí! Good morning, Aaron. We were just talking about you.”
Peeking at Aaron, I saw his eyes widen and then quickly return to its normal size.
“Good morning,” he said into the room, looking still startled. It was cute. No, it was actually shocking that he had not spotted Charo’s bright red hair like a beacon in the distance. “I hope everything you guys were saying was good.” He accompanied that with a teeny-tiny, lopsided smile.
“Of course, of course.” Charo waved a hand in the air. “We have been waiting for you to wake up. I bet Lina was missing you.”
My back stiffened, and Aaron’s head whirled slowly in my direction.
Dammit, Charo. My lips curled in a tight smile that I hid with my mug.
My cousin continued, “There is fresh coffee. Would you like some? Do you take it black? Would you like some milk with it? Perhaps sugar too? Brown or white? Or maybe you don’t like coffee. Lina hasn’t said anything, so I assumed you would have some. Unless you don’t, of course. I won’t force you to drink it.”
Aaron blinked, looking a little lost.
“You should get yourself a cup,” I muttered.
My fake boyfriend cleared his throat and walked in the direction of the coffeepot. “I … I think I’ll serve myself a cup. Thank you, Charo.”
Charo’s answer was a satisfied grin.
Aaron poured himself some coffee, and before the man even finished filling his mug, Charo was at it again.
“So, did you have fun yesterday, parejita?” My cousin sang that last word. Parejita—little couple.
I rolled my eyes.
“I wish I could have made it, but I’m not young and wild anymore. Not like you guys. I hope the bed in your room is still standing after seeing how the other one ended up. Although I guess if that had happened, I would have definitely noticed. The walls are veeeery thin.” She followed that with a wink.
In the periphery of my vision, I watched Aaron wince. Couldn’t blame him. I winced too.
“Anyway,” my cousin continued, “you guys got home really late last night. I heard the front door closing.”
“Yes, we did. I’m sorry about that, Charo.” My gaze followed Aaron as he walked decidedly across the few feet that separated us, finally settling on one of the three high stools placed around the narrow breakfast bar. Right beside where I had sat down myself.
“Ay no, don’t worry about it,” I heard my cousin say as I kept my eyes on my fake boyfriend’s movements. “It did not bother me. I was actually happy to know you had made it back safely.”
Aaron scooted his stool closer to mine, and his scent hit me like a freaking moving truck, plunging me back to last night, when it had completely engulfed me. My eyelashes fluttered, and I had to avert my gaze.
“Oh, okay. Good. That’s good,” I absently told my cousin, feeling my cheeks flush.
“And I wake up a few times during the night anyway. I’m a light sleeper.” Charo’s voice kept fading in the background as the knowledge of having Aaron’s body within reach sank in. “So, if you ever hear weird noises at night, it’s just me walking around the apartment.” She chuckled. “With a little bit of luck, I won’t accidentally walk in on you naked or something.”
Naked. Aaron naked. My mind seemed to short-circuit the moment it ventured into that mental image, pushing me off my stool as if my ass were on fire.
Space. Air. I needed … something. Anything.
Not being able to go very far, considering the dimension of the functional kitchen, I opened a couple of cabinets, making sure my back was to Aaron until all that blood that had somehow risen to my face returned to its original place.
I fanned myself with one of the cabinet doors. Good, good. Better.
Needing an excuse for my very unclassy getaway from the stool, I snatched a package of chocolate chip cookies.
“So, tell me everything, Aaron,” I heard Charo say behind me as I ripped open the cardboard. “What do you think of our little hometown? I am sure it is very different from New York. We don’t have skyscrapers or any of that, but there are plenty of places to visit. Nature, beautiful beaches. The coast is really amazing. Lots of stuff to do.” She paused, and I extracted one of the cookies from the package. “How many days will you guys stay, by the way? I heard that you were here only for the wedding. That’s such a shame! You should book a holiday and just—”
The doorbell rang, interrupting Charo.
“Oh, I’ll get that,” my cousin announced quickly and then slipped out of the kitchen.
My eyes narrowed.
While I was busy wondering if we were expecting anybody, it took me by surprise when an arm—which I was starting to get very well acquainted with at this rate—snaked around my waist and pulled me backward.
My ass landed on something hard and hot, immediately molding into the space.
Aaron’s lap.
His breath c
aressed the shell of my ear. “You didn’t say good morning.”
My back straightened as I remembered my lame runaway moment. “You almost made me drop my cookie, Mr. Robot.” It was so weird, so strange, calling him that, like I had done so many times in the past. As if that belonged to a whole different life. To two different people.
Aaron chuckled, and it tickled my neck. “I wouldn’t dare. I know better than that.”
His arm tightened around me, and I had to restrain myself from wrapping my hands around it.
“What are you doing?” I whispered loudly.
Charo would come back in at any second.
“I was feeling lonely,” he admitted, lowering his voice and making my mind fly with everything he wasn’t saying.
Stupid. I need to stop being stupid.
“And if I’m going to sit through this one-sided interrogation, the least you can do is keep me company. Plus, you owe me a conversation.”
“I was right there.” My voice came out strangled. “And Charo is not here now.”
He hummed, and that noise traveled straight to my lower belly. “She will be back though. You know I like to be extra prepared.”
I did. I knew him pretty damn well, I realized.
And just like that, with that thought floating around my mind, Charo’s head popped up in my field of vision. Her eyes widened, and then her face broke into a ridiculously large smile.
Jesus.
She clapped her hands. “Oh, look at you two! Ay Dios mío. You are adorable.”
Aaron’s chest grumbled with a laugh, and I felt it in my back.
“See?” he whispered in my ear.
No, I didn’t see shit, frankly. It was hard to focus on anything, being swaddled in Aaron’s lap.
My mouth opened, but all words died when a second head popped up in the kitchen.
Charo turned in the direction of that second head topped with the same bright shade of red. “No ves, Mamá? Te lo dije.”
“Tía Carmen?” I mumbled. “Qué haces aquí?” What was Charo’s mother doing here?
The woman, who was an older and rounder version of my cousin, pointed a finger at me. “Venir a saludarte, tonta.”
She was here to say hi? I doubted it. She’d see me at the wedding tomorrow.
My eyes turned to Charo, who had guilty written all over her face. She busied herself with something on the counter.
Aaron moved underneath me, his legs flexing and his hand holding my waist securely, just as if—
Whoa.
He stood up. “We haven’t met before,” he told my aunt. Then, he stepped forward. Somehow keeping my body in his delicate but skilled hold. “I don’t want you running for the closest exit,” he whispered in my ear.
What the—
“Soy Aaron. Encantado,” he said louder for my aunt. While keeping me tucked to him.
So, he was going to carry me around in his arms until I talked to him. About last night. About our almost kiss. My head swiveled back, eyes narrowed.
“No, no, no,” Tía Carmen called, stopping Aaron’s advances in her direction. “You can sit back down, cariño. No need of formalities. We are all family.”
Aaron obeyed, placing us both back on the stool immediately.
Charo, who had been hovering around the kitchen during the exchange with my aunt, placed a tray on the breakfast bar. It contained fruit, cereals, nuts, a plate with all different kinds of cheese and embutido, and a few slices of bread too.
My eyes widened as I wondered how and when had that arrived to the apartment.
“I got a few groceries yesterday,” my cousin explained.
Cocking a brow, I zeroed in on her. That meant planning.
“Have you tried some jamón, Aaron?” she asked, ignoring my glance.
“I have. It’s delicious but—”
Tía Carmen leaned on the table. “Do you like chorizo too? This one is really good.”
“Here,” my cousin said, not waiting for his answer and serving him a few slices of both Spanish delicatessens on a small plate. She placed it in front of us. “Try it. I always buy the best kind.”
My fake boyfriend thanked her, probably staring at the plate and wondering if they actually listened when people talked. Taking pity on him, I patted his forearm, which was still around my waist.
“Y qué intenciones tiene este chico con nuestra Linita?” Tía Carmen asked my cousin as she snatched a slice of bread off the tray. What intentions does he have with our little Lina?
My jaw fell to the floor.
Charo seemed to think about it for a moment. “No lo sé, Mamá.” Her eyes zeroed in on the man behind—or rather beneath—me. “Aaron, what are your intentions with Lina? You are not just fooling around, are you? What do you think about marriage? Because Lina is about to turn thirty and—”
“Charo,” I interrupted her. “Ya basta,” I hissed. “And I’m only twenty-eight. Jesus.”
Aaron chuckled behind me. “Marriage is one of my favorite institutions.”
My jaw hit the floor.
“I’ve always wanted to get married.”
My breath hitched, my mouth still hanging open.
“Have a bunch of kids. A dog too.”
Swallowing hard, I tried my best to conceal my pure shock. I tried to take ahold of my mind, which had wandered away with dangerous rose-tainted images, born of Aaron’s words.
Fake. He’s only saying what every family wants to hear.
And then he really went for it. “We love dogs, don’t we, bollito?”
Managing to pick up my jaw from the floor, I answered with a weak, “Yeah.” Then, I shook my head and somehow recovered. “That’s why we’ll have a bunch of them. Instead of kids.”
His chuckle tickled my ear.
“But there’s plenty of time to talk about that,” I gritted out with a fake smile.
“Ay que bien! Dogs, babies, true love. Just in time before you are a little too old.” Charo clapped, and I shot her a look. “Mujer, no te pongas así.” Don’t be like that, she said. “Did you try that jamón, Aaron? If you ever get married and move to Spain, you’ll have all the jamón you’d ever want.”
Move to Spain? Jesus, what did she want? To make me lose my shit?
My cousin continued, “You see, Lina had to leave to America all those years ago because of everything that happened and—”
“Charo,” I cut her off, my breathing growing heavy. “Déjalo ya, por favor,” I begged her to drop it.
The doorbell rang again. And I muttered a not-so-quiet curse under my breath.
“Oh! They are here!” my cousin announced.
What? Who?
Then, she proceeded to link her arm with her mother’s, and they slipped out of the kitchen together.
Aaron’s hand squeezed my arm gently, and I released all the air in my lungs.
I was on edge after that. And I was going to ignore—no, forget—his comment about marriage and kids and dogs because it was completely irrelevant.
And I did as soon as his fingers trailed down to my wrist. The touch—the caress—so featherlike, so brief, but so very powerful that it created a riot of shivers to spread across my whole body.
“Relax,” he said in my ear. His fingers started moving in circles over the skin of my wrist. The brush of his fingers was lazy, calming. “That’s it,” he whispered as his fingertips kept flicking over my skin.
My shoulders gradually relaxed until my back settled completely against his front.
Aaron’s chin rested on the top of my head, and then he said, “We’ve got this.”
I wanted to believe him, to believe that we could fake date our way through this improvised family reunion today and then tomorrow. But as I finally surrendered and let my body fall into his, it felt like way more than just that. I realized a part of me didn’t want to believe in just that. Because it felt right to be in this kitchen, sitting on his lap, while he brushed his fingers over the sensitive skin of my wrist as we en
dured my family’s inappropriate antics.
We felt like a we, Aaron and I.
And when it was my mother’s head coming into view, followed by my abuela, my tía, and Charo, that realization solidified somewhere in the middle of my chest. Like a brick or a block of cement. Heavy, firm, and really hard to ignore. But it was when Aaron briefly peeled himself off me—just long enough to introduce himself to my abuela—that I felt the brick click into place, inserting itself like a Tetris piece in a nook that had been waiting to be filled. And by the time he returned his arm to my waist and my body to his lap, just after he looked down and smiled that smile just for me, I knew with certainty that I’d never be able to get that damn brick out of there.
It was there to stay.
Chapter Twenty-One
Surprisingly, everything was going smoothly. So far, no awkward or embarrassing moments had made me regret all my life choices, and no one had dropped any inappropriate questions that made me want to open a hole in the ground and plunge myself in.
With a little luck, I would even be able to get through this one dinner, unscathed. And I really thought I would.
I hoped this sense of contentment humming satisfactorily under my skin wasn’t a by-product of the food I had inhaled. Because that was what a Spanish feast could do to you. It could cloud your judgment.
We were all sitting around a round table on the terrace of a restaurant that faced the sea. The sun was setting on the horizon, about to reach the thin line where the ocean and the sky met, and the only sound filling the air around us besides the low chatter was the crashing of the waves against the rocks lining the coast.
To put it in a simple way, it was perfect.
The soft touch of a hand on my arm sent a handful of shivers rolling down my spine.
“Cold?” a deep voice I had come to anticipate in ways that made my breath hitch asked close to my ear.
Shaking my head, I faced him. Only a few inches separated us. Our lips.
“No, I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. I had learned that when Aaron came this close, I was everything but fine. “Just full. I might have overdone it.”
“No place for dessert?”
