The Spanish Love Deception

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The Spanish Love Deception Page 34

by Elena Armas


  His apology was long overdue—perhaps it was even too late—but at least I was finally getting one. And that counted for something.

  “It’s water under the bridge,” I told him, and I meant it. Even though a little part of me would always remember that he had been a big player in something that left a scar I’d always carry around. “Don’t worry about what my dad said, by the way. He’s a little emotional.” I waved my hand in front of us, stopping myself the moment I realized I didn’t owe Daniel a single thing. I shouldn’t have been trying to make him feel better. I cleared my throat. “You know how weddings bring out the best and worst of us.”

  I was the living proof of that, my fake boyfriend sitting at a table with my family, finally facing my newly engaged ex.

  Although the problem with coming back home for Isabel’s wedding—single, dateless—had never been about seeing Daniel. It was about facing everyone else while doing that. It was the anticipation, the idea, of having every single person who had seen me grow up, fall in love, get my heart broken, lose a little part of myself for a while, and then flee to a different country. It was about facing a man who had clearly put his life back together when I hadn’t. That was what had set this whole thing into motion, exactly what had made me push the panic button.

  And how stupid had that been? How dumb had it been to let something like that drive me to lie? To create and sell them this ridiculous and wholesome image of myself that I’d thought would make me complete and happy in their eyes?

  I realized now, as I stood in front of the catalyst of this whole mess, that it had been very fucking stupid.

  “I hope you mean that, Lina. This whole thing is better left in the past anyway.” Daniel looked at the ground for a moment and then nodded his head. “Are you happy now? With your life? With him?” He tilted his head. “You don’t look completely happy.”

  My throat dried, my eyes widening, as I tried to process his words. “Of course I am,” I said, but it came out in a breathless way. Pure shock swirled in my body, mixing with stupid fear at being called out on my lie. “I’m happy, Daniel,” I repeated, those two emotions turning into something else. Something that tasted a lot more bitter.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked calmly, in a confident and patronizing way that had me rearing my head back. “He seems like a stand-up guy, this Aaron. Although he looks a little … dry. Stuffy,” Daniel continued, and my eyes fluttered closed for a fraction of a second, a strong sense of protectiveness washing over me. “But I guess he’s good to you. He has been stuck to your side since the moment I met him.” He chuckled. “Not my style, this guard-dog vibe, but I could understand the appeal.”

  My lips parted as I found it hard to believe the words leaving my ex’s mouth.

  “But are you really happy, Lina? I know you, and this is not the carefree Lina you are. You have been on edge in the short time you’ve been here, and I’ll be honest, I can’t help but be concerned.”

  Concerned? I blinked. Then, I did it again. And again and again.

  Had I been on edge? I could believe that. I had certainly felt that way more than once. But … whether what he thought was true or not wasn’t important. It was the fact that he believed he had any right to deny something I was telling him myself.

  Oblivious to my growing outrage, Daniel kept going, “It could be coming back home. That must be a lot of pressure for you. Or maybe it’s that Isabel is getting married and you aren’t.”

  A breath got stuck in my throat.

  “Or maybe it’s him. I don’t know, but—”

  “Stop,” I hissed. Something lit up inside of me. Like a bonfire. I could even hear the flames crackling and sizzling. Burning away the remains of my patience. “Don’t you dare do that, Daniel.”

  His brows wrinkled together, his expression one of confusion. “Do what?”

  “Do what?” I repeated, my voice going up an octave. Closing my eyes, I tried my best to get back my composure. “Do not pretend that you care or that you even know me anymore. You have no right to judge or doubt my happiness.” The pace at which my breath entered and left my lungs increased, my anger not receding. “So, stop throwing in my face whatever it is you think you know or see. You lost that right a long time ago.”

  He shook his head, sighing loudly. “I’ve always cared about you, Lina. And I always will. That’s why I’m worried about you. Why I’m trying to have a conversation.”

  “You’ve always cared about me? You’ll always care?”

  “Of course,” he puffed out. “You are like a little sister to me. We are about to become family.”

  Something deep inside of me turned to ice. The marrow in my bones freezing, rooting me to the spot.

  “I’m like a little sister to you now?” His statement tasted like something tart in my mouth. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Daniel.”

  His expression assembled into one that was meant to impose. To convey authority. I had been well acquainted with that face when I used to sit across from him in his classroom. “Don’t be like that, Lina.”

  “Like what?”

  He tsked, bathing me in condensation. “Don’t be a child. We are both adults now. You can talk and act like one.”

  Now. He had said now. Opposed to what? To when we had dated?

  “Had I been a child when we were together, Daniel? When you dated me? Made me feel special? Told me you loved me?” I watched his jaw press into a tight line. “Is that all that I was to you when you dropped me like a hot potato after you so much as sniffed a little trouble coming your way? I guess that would explain everything. Why I’m only getting an apology now that you deem me worthy of one, having finally turned into an adult.”

  I took a step back, hearing my heart drumming in my ears as I watched him remain very still.

  “You know what? I’m over this.” Shaking my head, I laughed bitterly. “I don’t owe you a single thing. And you don’t owe me anything either. You never cared about me, Daniel. Not enough at least. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let them eat me alive.” I swallowed, pushing all those memories away as much as they banged and screamed, demanding to be let out. “I really wish you hadn’t said all this. I really do. Because these last few minutes have wiped out the little respect I had for you.”

  Watching him as he stood in front of me, barely moving, I took another step back.

  His mouth fell open, but no words came out besides, “Lina.”

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “I don’t expect anything from you. As I told you, it’s water under the bridge now.”

  His lips snapped closed, his shoulders falling in what I hoped was acceptance.

  “But I can tell you this much: I am happy.”

  And I was. Confused too, if I was being honest. Yes, my heart was mixed up and disoriented. Terrified on top of all that. But there was a force that seemed to tear the shell of fear that covered that poor and beat-up organ, seeping through the cracks and wanting to obliterate all those doubts if I let it. Promising safety and comfort.

  But that wasn’t a conversation I owed to Daniel. I did to someone else.

  Someone I needed to make my way back to.

  I was about to turn in my heels and do exactly that when someone who always managed to put a smile on my face turned around the corner.

  “What have you been doing here for so long, cariño?” Abuela asked in Spanish, looking over at Daniel. “Oh, I see now.” She shot him a sideways glance and ignored him altogether. When she looked back at me, her lips were tugging up, mischief written all over her face. “That boyfriend of yours is sitting on that table, looking like an abandoned puppy.” She linked her arm with mine, and I felt a little lighter already. “He ordered you dessert, you know? And he keeps staring at where you left, like he is holding himself from coming to get you.”

  My belly flopped, a fluttering sensation taking over. “He is?”

  Abuela patted my arm. “Of course he is, boba.” She clicked her tongue, pulling us b
ack to the restaurant. “He didn’t even ask for two spoons, so he knows that getting you to share is fruitless.” She snickered, and I tried to ignore how the flutter was now spreading to my chest.

  “He … he’s pretty perfect,” I murmured, surprising myself.

  “Yes,” she said without thinking much about it. “That’s why you shouldn’t leave him sitting alone for so long. He’s too beautiful for his own good.”

  He was—for my own good too.

  “You think he will save me a dance tomorrow?”

  “I think he will.” I didn’t have a doubt in my mind he would. “Only if you ask nicely, Abuela.”

  She giggled, and I knew without a doubt that I’d probably have to fight my own grandmother over my fake boyfriend’s attention.

  Then, the woman who had snuck chocolate after bedtime more than a million times guided us back to where the rest of the family was, chatting animatedly.

  Right before reaching the table, she lowered her voice. “They didn’t make men like that back in my day. Abuelo was handsome but not like that. Although it wasn’t his looks that won me over.” She winked. “You know what I mean.”

  “Abuela!” I loud-whispered.

  She patted my arm. “Don’t play coy around me. I’m old. I know better. Now, go.”

  A pair of blue eyes immediately found mine. They bounced to Abuela and then somewhere behind me. Looking around, I noticed Daniel was a few steps behind us.

  After parting ways with my grandmother, I let my gaze fall back on my fake date as I made my way to him. I could see the unease edged in Aaron’s handsome face. His jaw was clenched, and his forehead was bunched. When his gaze met mine once more, his eyes held questions and that protectiveness I had felt a few minutes ago when Daniel had mentioned his name. It was clear as a cloudless summer day.

  Aaron was worried. He was holding himself back from meeting me halfway and asking me what the hell had happened. He cared. He cared about me. And he’d shield me, hold me, or just stand by my side if I so much as opened my mouth to ask. I knew. Hell, he would even if I didn’t ask.

  Honest, genuine concern. Contrary to whatever Daniel had claimed.

  Letting myself fall delicately on my chair, I took a moment to plaster a calm smile on my face. A neutral expression. But my lips probably curled the wrong way, my features displaying everything still churning inside of me after my exchange with Daniel because when I turned and faced Aaron, his eyes flared more intensely.

  I willed my lips to inch higher, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

  My sister started chattering about something—what exactly, I couldn’t tell. My head was somewhere else.

  My hands were in my lap when I felt Aaron’s palm fall against them. For the second time tonight, he interlaced our hands. Our fingers weaved together, each and every one of them. But this time, he kept our linked hands right where they were—on the top of my thigh. As if he was trying to tell me, this way—with them below the table, hidden from everyone else—meant that this was just for us. Not a part of the charade.

  He squeezed my hand with purpose, his fingers tightening around mine, his palm warm against my skin. Just for us, it seemed to reassure me. To promise me.

  And like the biggest dummy in the universe, I found the greatest comfort in those five long fingers. In that warm palm. So, I brought our joined hands closer to my belly, and I squeezed right back.

  There was something lodged right in between my ribs that felt a lot like a ticking bomb.

  “I can hear the gears in your head spinning,” Aaron said as he crossed the room in that pair of pajama pants, which was doing mad things to my belly again. Same went for the T-shirt. He was wearing the one he had slept in yesterday.

  At least he was wearing one. I didn’t think I could take shirtless Aaron right now.

  “I’m okay,” I lied, my head throbbing with every replay of my conversation with Daniel. It had been on a loop since we left the restaurant. “Just going through everything I need to get done before the big day tomorrow.”

  Which was what I should have been busy doing.

  Clad in my sleeping clothes too, I aligned the two pairs of heels—the ones I’d wear and the backup—on the floor. Right against the wall. Meticulously leaving the same space between them.

  I stepped back, admiring my work. Nope.

  Unconvinced, I knelt and rearranged them.

  When I had something in my mind, I did one of two things. I compulsively ate or organized. And considering we had just had dinner and seeing the pile of neatly stacked clothes and perfectly in line items displayed on top of the dresser, it seemed that this one time, it was the latter.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I sensed Aaron plopping himself on the bed with an ease and finesse no one his size should have.

  “There’s smoke coming out of your ears.” He rested his back on the headboard, and the wood complained under his weight.

  I reached for the shoes again, moving them an inch to the right. “I don’t think so,” I said in a clipped tone. Then, I moved the two pairs half an inch to the left. “For that, I would need to be overthinking something. And I’m not doing that.”

  “Oh, but you are,” he said from his position on the bed. “Talk to me.”

  I didn’t bother answering him. Hearing his sigh, I kept my focus on my task.

  Maybe if they face the wall—

  “Catalina,” Aaron called.

  And the way he had said it made me turn around and face him.

  “Come here.” He patted the bed with his hand.

  Brows bunched, I sent him a look.

  “Sit with me for a little while, and then you can go back to torturing those shoes into perfection,” he told me with a sigh. “Just for a few minutes.” Then, he placed his palm on the comforter again. When I didn’t say anything or move, he added very softly, like it would break his heart if I didn’t give him this one thing, “Please.”

  That please, that freaking please and the way he had said it, launched my legs forward.

  Before I knew what I was doing, my ass was on the bed, right beside his hip. I knew what he wanted to talk about. That cocktail of emotions and memories and questions that had slowly been assembling in my head. The one I had brought back to the apartment, and that I knew if I so much as opened my mouth, it would burst and spill right out of me. But that meant completely confiding in Aaron. Telling him about a part of my past that I didn’t find any joy in revisiting. Giving him a key that would help him understand—know—me better. And did I want to do that? Could I do it without wanting to tuck my head in his chest and look for comfort in him?

  “I don’t want to bore you with the melodramatics of my life, Aaron,” I sighed, and I meant it. What I didn’t tell him was that beneath all that, there was only fear. “You don’t need to worry—”

  In one smooth motion, Aaron picked me up and placed me between his open legs. Another sigh left my parted lips, but this one had nothing to do with exhaustion or whatever was brewing in my head.

  “Anything that bothers you matters to me, and I want to hear about it,” he said from his position behind me. “Nothing about you is boring or doesn’t interest me—ever. Understand?”

  I felt myself nod and perhaps mutter a quiet, “Yes,” too. My heart drummed too loudly in my ears to know.

  Aaron continued, “If you want to talk about whatever happened, then we’ll do that.” His hands fell on my shoulders with a tenderness that disarmed me. Then, he brushed my hair to the side, and his fingers traveled to the back of my neck. “And if you don’t, then we’ll talk about something else. But I want you to relax. Just for a few minutes.”

  He paused, and his thumbs started massaging along the line of my spine. I had to hold back from whimpering like a stricken animal. Only I wasn’t in pain.

  “Sound like a plan?”

  “Yes,” I answered, incapable of not melting into his touch.

  There was a beat of silence, and Aaron’s fingers trail
ed up the back of my neck, gently kneading the muscles there. Another sound rose in my throat, almost leaving my lips. But I held it in.

  “What your dad said during dinner made me think of something my mom used to tell me when I was a little kid.” Aaron’s fingertips kept working my skin, easing more than the tension in my shoulders. Turning me into softened butter as I listened to his deep voice taking me out of my head. Trusting me with yet another piece of himself. “Back then, I didn’t really understand or care about it. I didn’t until I was older and she was diagnosed and the possibility of her leaving us became real. But she used to tell me how the moment I was born, she knew she had found her light in the dark. That one lighthouse that, no matter what, was always up. Lighting up the night and signaling her way home. And as a kid, I thought that was either corny or very dramatic.” A low and humorless chuckle left him.

  My heart broke all over again for him, hurting and begging me to turn around and give him any comfort I could. But I stayed put. “You must miss her so much.”

  “I do, every day. When she passed and my nights got a little darker, I started to understand what she’d meant.”

  That was a loss I hoped I wouldn’t experience in a long time.

  “But what your dad said—about you having this fire inside, that lightness and life, and how it dulled for a period of time …” He paused, and I swore I heard him swallow. “It just …” He trailed off, as if he was scared of his next words. And Aaron never feared speaking his mind. Aaron was never scared. “You are all that, Catalina. You are light. And passion. Your laughter alone can lift my mood and effortlessly turn my day around in a matter of seconds. Even when it’s not aimed at me. You … can light up entire rooms, Catalina. You hold that kind of power. And it’s because of all the different things that make you who you are. Each and every one of them, even the ones that drive me crazy in ways you can’t imagine. You should never forget that.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Then another one. And then one more. Until no air was getting in or out and I could tell my heart had stopped beating completely. For the longest of moments, I remained suspended in time, thinking I’d never bounce back from this because my heart was not functioning anymore, but hey, if those were the parting words I had to leave this earth with, then I’d be happy.

 

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