The Spanish Love Deception

by Elena Armas

My eyebrows bunched at the audacity. “Don’t be ridiculous, osito. I always have space for dessert. Always.”

  Aaron’s lips curled up, and his smile reached the corners of his eyes, transforming his whole face.

  Wowie. I hadn’t been prepared for it if the butterflies in my stomach were any indication.

  “Lina, Aaron, more wine?” my dad asked from the other side of the table.

  My parents had insisted we order wine even if the wedding was tomorrow—where alcohol would certainly flow in rivers of sidra, wine, cava, and whatnot. Nobody had tried to complain. Not even Isabel or Gonzalo, whose faces displayed the repercussions of our almost all-nighter. But in the land of wine, one simply didn’t go to dinner and not order a bottle.

  “No, thanks. I think I’m going to save myself for tomorrow,” I answered, removing my glass from my dad’s reach. The bottle had already been hovering midair.

  Unlike me, Aaron was too slow. So, before he could muster his answer, my dad was already refilling his glass.

  “You snooze, you lose,” I whispered, leaning in his direction.

  That bright smile that had taken his face returned, throwing me off my game in the blink of an eye. And then the arm that had been around the back of my seat stretched, and he playfully pinched my side.

  I jumped in my seat, almost knocking a few glasses off the table.

  Aaron’s other hand reached for his wine, bringing it to his lips. “Don’t be cute,” he said over his glass, pinning me with a look that made me shift in my chair. Then, he dipped his head and lowered his voice. “Next time, I’ll do more than just pinch you.” His lips finally met the glass, taking a sip.

  Keeping my eyes on his lips for a few intense seconds, I was sure something had just popped in the vicinity of my female reproductive parts.

  Cheeks flushed, I swiveled my head, searching for any evidence that someone at the table had heard that. My abuela was still busy cleaning her plate off. Gonzalo and Isabel seemed about to pass out from exhaustion and most likely a food coma by the time we reached dessert. My parents chitchatted animatedly with a waiter I hadn’t even realized was standing by our table. And Daniel—who had come alone because his and Gonzalo’s parents were arriving early tomorrow—was looking down at his phone like it held the secrets of the universe.

  That day weeks ago, when I had untruthfully declared that I was dating a man after being told that Daniel was engaged and happier than ever, I had done it in panic after picturing a scene almost identical to the one we’d found ourselves in. Except that the chair next to me would have been empty. Or occupied by someone else like my abuela or Daniel’s fiancée, knowing my luck. Or hey, maybe it would have been that escort I had briefly considered hiring. But either way, it would have been someone who didn’t make my heart race with nothing more than a look or my belly tumble with one of those smiles that I was beginning to covet just for myself.

  So, as I looked in Daniel’s direction, I realized a few things. First and foremost, my gut reaction to lie and thrust myself—and Aaron—into this ludicrous plan had been, perhaps, a little excessive. Then, there was the fact that despite being excessive, having Aaron with me had made everything easier in a way that I would never have fathomed. And last—and I struggled with wrapping my head around this one—there was a considerably large part of me, one that I was trying really hard to ignore but failing at it, that didn’t regret any of it.

  And that was extremely dumb of me. Because the man I found myself flushing around—and not regretting having by my side—would soon become my boss.

  “So, Aaron,” my mother said, returning me back to the present, “Isabel explained how you two met and started dating.” Her eyes sparkled, and I bet it had to do more with the wine. “That story you told them last night in the sidrería. It sounded so romantic, just like one of those movies we watch on the Netflix.”

  Of course, my mother would veer the conversation in that direction.

  “It’s just Netflix, Mamá,” I muttered, playing with my hands on the table. “And yeah. A proper office romance, just like in the movies, right?”

  “Only this one is real,” Aaron said.

  Real.

  His words came rushing back into my mind. “I talked her into believing that she needed me. Then, I showed her—proved to her—that she did.”

  My heart tumbled down my chest.

  “So, how much do you two actually work together?” My mother’s gaze was directed at Aaron, an inquisitive smile on her lips that told me she was dying to know everything there was to know.

  “We both lead different teams, and we don’t work on the same projects, but we see each other often.” He sent me a side-glance. “And if we don’t, I make sure we do. I try to catch her on her break, steal a glance or two in the hallways, pass by her office without having an excuse. Anything that will put me in her head for just a few moments a day.”

  I dipped my head, staring at my empty plate. Was that true? Aaron had had a way of popping up out of thin air. But had that been intentional? Even if it was to get on my nerves. I was beginning to struggle with something as simple as telling apart what was real from what wasn’t. Everything that left Aaron’s mouth was based on reality—us working together, us knowing each other for almost two years. And then it had a part of deceit—us dating, being in love. But everything else, everything that somehow lay between those two sides—all those ornaments he hung off both truth and deceit—belonged to a gray area I did not know how to define.

  “Qué maravilloso.” My mother beamed.

  Then, she translated what Aaron had said for Abuela, and the old woman I owed my slightly frizzy hair to beamed too. Honestly, Abuela had been charmed by Aaron since the moment he had greeted her with two kisses and told her how proud she must be of her granddaughter. Which, in turn, had turned me into a beaming idiot too.

  “You know,” my dad chipped in, “not everyone is able to handle our Lina. She has the biggest heart in the family, but she can be a little …” He trailed off, one of his eyebrows rising on his forehead. “Ay, what’s the word in English?” My dad paused, his lips puckered with frustration. “She can be—”

  “A total dork?” suggested Isabel, who had just—very conveniently—come back from the dead.

  “Oye!” I exclaimed.

  At the same time, my dad answered, “No. Not that one.” He scratched the side of his head.

  “Short?” offered Gonzalo. “Clumsy?”

  My head whipped in his direction.

  Aaron hummed. “Ridiculously stubborn?”

  Not bothering to turn toward him, I rammed my elbow into his side. He gently grabbed my arm and laced our fingers together, placing them on top of the table. I stared at our linked hands, all outrage immediately vanished.

  Then, Aaron dipped his head and told me in a low voice, “I didn’t want to be left out.”

  I looked over at him and found yet another of those smiles that made me weak in the knees. Something fluttered low in my belly. Dammit.

  “Gracias, all of you,” I murmured.

  My dad kept searching his mind for whatever word he didn’t seem to remember. “It isn’t any of those words. Just let me think.”

  Daniel cleared his throat, finally taking part in the conversation. “What if you tell us the word in Spanish, and we can translate it, Javier?” he suggested.

  My mom nodded her head. “Claro, usa el Google, Javier.” Use the Google, Javier.

  “Papá,” I told him with a sigh, “just let it go—”

  “Firecracker,” he blurted out. “Our Lina is a little firecracker.”

  All right. That was actually not that bad.

  “So, she can be too much to handle. Often.”

  Oh. I deflated a little in my chair, my hand remaining in Aaron’s.

  “She’s always chattering like she has too much to say and not enough time to do so. Or laughing like she doesn’t care she’ll wake up the half of the world that’s sleeping. She can also be a littl
e defiant, and God knows she is stubborn as they come. But that’s all fire. Passion. That’s what makes her our Lina. Our little terremoto.” Our little earthquake.

  My dad’s eyes started shining under the light of the few lamps that had switched on as we entered the night. Something in my chest constricted.

  “And for a while there, it wasn’t like that. All that lightness faded out, and seeing my daughter going through something like that wasn’t easy. It broke our hearts. Then, she left, and even if we knew it was what she wanted and needed to do, our hearts broke a little further.”

  Tears were rushing to my eyes by then, the pressure behind them increasing with every word from my father. With every memory he unearthed.

  “But that’s in the past. She’s here now, and she’s okay. Happy.” My mom reached out, taking my dad’s hand in hers.

  Not able to hold myself any longer, I stood up on shaky legs and walked around the table. When I reached my dad, I wrapped him in a hug and kissed his cheek. “Te quiero, Papá.” Then, I did the same with my mother. “A ti también, tonta.” All the while, I held my tears in as if my life depended on it. I wouldn’t cry. I refused. “Now, stop it, okay? Both of you. Save something for tomorrow.”

  When I returned to my seat, I watched my hand reaching for Aaron’s. As if it no longer conceived not being held in his. Absorbed by my own gesture, my heart flopped in my chest when his hand met mine midway, linking our fingers and bringing them to his mouth to brush his lips over the back of my hand. It was all so fast that by the time it was over and our linked hands rested on top of the table, I wouldn’t have known it had really happened if not for the scorching imprint of his lips on my skin.

  My mother spoke next, returning my attention to her, “It makes me so happy to have you home, cariño.” Then, her eyes landed on Aaron. “To see you like this.” Her smile widened, the sadness vanishing.

  A pang of guilt sliced my gut, followed by something sultry and dense. Something that tasted like regret and hope.

  “For a moment there, I thought she wouldn’t really bring you, Aaron. I even questioned if you were real.” She chuckled, and I swore my lungs stopped working for a heartbeat. Her gaze met mine, a light smile on her face. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve never talked about anyone you were seeing or brought anyone home from New York the few times you came back. And it was all so … sudden.”

  “Honestly, hermanita,” Isabel pitched in, sounding suspiciously interested, “we thought you’d end up like one of those old ladies who dedicated their life to a bunch of cats. But instead of cats, it would have to be fish. Or like … geckos because you are allergic to cat fur.” She snickered. “We constantly talked about it in family gatherings.”

  “Thanks for the faith,” I muttered and then stuck my tongue out in my sister’s direction. I couldn’t believe they were saying that kind of stuff with someone they believed I was dating at the table. Or better yet, with someone they knew I had dated sitting right there. “I’m lucky to have you.”

  Aaron’s fingers gripped mine a little tighter, and I felt mine returning the gesture.

  “No, we did not talk about such things,” my mother firmly denied, shooting her other daughter a look. “Stop teasing your sister, Isabel. You are getting married tomorrow.”

  Isabel frowned. “What does that have to do with any—”

  Mamá sliced her hand through the air, dismissing my sibling.

  I snickered, watching her cross her arms over her chest.

  “We never thought you’d end up alone, Lina. But we were terrified you would be lonely.” She looked over at Aaron, her eyes softening. “And knowing that you’re not, that you have someone to lean on and to return home to, maybe someone to call home one day, makes me sleep a little better at night.”

  The man beside me didn’t hesitate when he spoke, “I can promise you that much.” His voice reached my skin like a caress. Pushing my heart to bang against my chest walls, wanting out as much as I didn’t want to hear whatever was to come. “She’ll always have me.” His thumb caressed the back of my hand. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she is stuck with me.”

  I couldn’t not look over at him. After that, I couldn’t not want to search his handsome face. At this point, it shouldn’t have surprised me all that much. Aaron held that kind of power over me. So, I did exactly that. I allowed myself to turn. His eyes had already been on me.

  Does he feel that pull too? That urge to search my face for whatever answers he thinks he’ll find?

  Trying to get my heart under control, I peered into that ocean blue with trepidation. With anticipation too. And I found something utterly terrifying. Something that shouldn’t—couldn’t—have been there, considering that this was supposed to be a farce so therefore his statement was not true. But I struggled to deny what was in front of me, that those emotions were really there, radiating off his gaze. Raw honesty. Conviction. Faith. Reliance. A pledge. All of that looked at me from Aaron’s eyes. Demanding to be acknowledged.

  As if he was making me the promise and not my mother.

  As if what he had just proclaimed wasn’t part of our game in deception.

  But I couldn’t accept that. As much as my body shook with effort to restrain myself from wrapping my arms around his neck and begging him for answers or to tell me exactly where in the gray area we found ourselves, I wouldn’t allow myself to play with the questions spinning in my head and knotting together all my heartstrings.

  Because perhaps I didn’t really want to hear any of the answers to questions like: Had we gone from coworkers to deal associates to friends? Were we friends who vowed to be there for each other now? Friends who almost kissed and shared soft brushes of their lips? Was that promise really true, like his eyes pleaded with me to believe? Or was that nothing more than an ornament? And if it was, then why would he say something like that? Had he no disregard for my poor heart? Didn’t he see that I was no longer able to discern one thing from the other? But if it wasn’t a simple embellishment of the truth—an act, a tool in this farce—then what in the world was he doing? What were we doing?

  Not able to remain under everything that looked at me from Aaron’s gaze anymore or to process all the questions and doubts cramming my head, I straightened my legs with a brisk motion, and my hand let go of his. The chair underneath me screeched across the floor.

  “I need to use the ladies’ room,” I rushed out, snagging my gaze off Aaron.

  Then, I walked away as fast as I could without looking back.

  I did not turn. Not once.

  Not even after I heard my sister say, “So, now that she’s gone, can we talk about me? I am the bride, and I’m supposed to be the center of attention. I’m feeling neglected.”

  Had my head not been a mess, I would have laughed. Probably gone back and tugged at her hair for being a pompous, self-centered brat, but I was too busy running. Being a complete chickenshit again, which at this rate, I’d probably master by the time the weekend was over.

  I went through the motions of washing my hands and splashing some water on my face while I thought about nothing and everything, feeling completely overwhelmed by my own stupidity.

  That was probably why when I exited the bathroom, I didn’t realize there had been someone on the way until I was collapsing against a male chest with an oomph.

  “Mierda,” I muttered under my breath, going back a couple of steps. “Lo siento mucho,” I added right before noticing who was in front of me. “Oh, Daniel.”

  Brushing a few strands of hair off my face, I inwardly cringed.

  My ex didn’t show any sign of feeling as awkward as I did. “Are you okay?” he asked me in Spanish.

  Now that it was just us and Aaron wasn’t around, I answered in Spanish too, “Yeah, I’m fine. It was nothing. Just a little bump.” Clearing my throat, I dusted off imaginary specks of dirt off my pleated skirt. “Sorry again. It was really my fault. I was a little distracted.”

  “It’s all
good, Lina.” That dimple in his cheek made an appearance.

  I stared at it, a little lost in thought. And to think that all those years ago, it was that dimple that had set everything into motion. Now, I couldn’t even bring myself to feel the slightest hint of warmth when I looked at it.

  “I think I shouldn’t have come tonight,” Daniel confessed out of the blue, returning me to the present.

  I nodded slowly, trying to come to terms with the odd sense of sympathy I suddenly felt toward him. He wasn’t wrong. All throughout dinner, he had been nothing but a ghost. No one had really addressed him—something I could understand, considering our history—and he hadn’t talked on his own. Putting myself in his shoes, I didn’t think I would have accepted coming myself.

  “No, coming was the right thing to do if you believed you had to be here.” I clasped my hands together, keeping them from fumbling. “You did it for Gonzalo, and that’s very brave of you.”

  He laughed with bitterness. “I don’t think anyone at that table would agree with you. Except maybe Gonzalo, and he wouldn’t use the word brave.” His hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks.

  Again, he wasn’t wrong about that either. My parents had always been polite even if distant, but just for Gonzalo’s sake. For Isabel’s sake too. They knew how important Daniel was to him and how, without him, they wouldn’t have Gonzalo in their lives, and they loved him to pieces. But I still didn’t have a doubt that they’d never forgive Daniel for breaking my heart all that time ago. For having a part in what I had gone through.

  “Listen,” Daniel said before releasing a breath. “I know it’s probably too late for this, but I wanted to tell you that I am sorry. I don’t think I ever did.”

  No, he had never apologized.

  “But I never meant for everything that went down to happen. I never even imagined it was a possibility.”

  Of course he hadn’t, and hadn’t that been part of the problem? He dragged me along, and when things started looking ugly, he fled the ship. Leaving me there to sink with it. And that had been exactly what I did; I had been pulled under the surface, and I’d had to fight my way up. Alone.