Love Unwritten (Lakefront Billionaires, 2)

I had intended on joining Rafael and Nico outside at some point, but the heavy weight pressing against my shoulders and chest has me sticking to the confines of my bedroom, where I can fully embrace my emotions through music.

I toss the guitar pick on the bed and reach for my notebook. The page is covered with a mix of unfinished lyrics and song ideas that failed to pass my first round of edits.

I’ve always written songs from a woman’s perspective, weaving my personal stories into purposeful lines and relatable lyrics. While it shouldn’t be a challenge to write from Cole’s point of view, I’m struggling. Hard.

I drop back on my mattress with a sigh and end up falling asleep for a couple of hours until I’m woken up by heavy knocking against my door.

“Ellie?” Rafael asks.

“Yeah?” I rub at my tired eyes.

“Can I come in?”

My heart picks up speed. “Sure?”

The doorknob turns before the door opens to—

I gasp. “Oh my God.” My hand instantly reaches out toward Rafael’s clean-shaven face, only for me to snatch it back.

His slightly pale cheeks, which I haven’t fully seen in the whole time I’ve been working for him, turn pink as his gaze meets mine. “You don’t like it?”

I most definitely shouldn’t, but I’m single with an active sex drive, so of course I like Rafael’s clean-shaven face. In fact, I like it a whole lot more than I should.

“It’s…nice,” I manage to say with an even voice.

He rubs at his cheek. “Just nice?”

“Are you fishing for compliments again?”

“Only because you’re starting to give me a complex.”

“Would you rather I say you’re hot?”

“See? Was that so hard to admit?”

I roll my eyes with a smile. “Anyone in town could tell you that.”

His eyes lock onto mine. “I don’t care about anyone else’s opinion.”

My stomach takes a dive into dangerous, butterfly-inducing territory. “Now you’re giving me a complex.”

I have to glance away because I can’t bear the weight of his stare. See, Rafael has always been hot, even with his rugged aesthetic, but this is different.

He is different.

I’m afraid to hope, just in case he takes another major step back, but at the same time, I am so proud of him. The idea of him reclaiming parts of the old him while becoming someone new makes me incredibly emotional. How can it not when I’m getting a front-row view of him pulling himself up off the ground after spending the last two years buried underneath his sorrow?

“Ellie?”

“Huh?”

“Jokes aside, are you feeling okay?” A worried line appears down the middle of his forehead.

“Oh. Yeah.” I clasp my hands together to hide the way they tremble.

“Nico wanted to get you some medicine.” He places a paper bag on the edge of my bed. “He was worried about you. I…uh…was too. I texted you to check in, but you didn’t answer.”

A part of me dies inside at the hint of self-consciousness in his tone.

I’ve done my best to keep my feelings toward Rafael in a locked box with a massive do not touch warning label. It was easy when he was so unlikable, but now that he is doing and saying things that make my heart skip more beats than a damaged vinyl record, I don’t stand a chance.

Most definitely not when he is looking at me like my well-being matters to him and checking in to see if I’m okay.

“I know you weren’t feeling well, so I wasn’t going to bother you…” His voice trails off.

“But?”

He doesn’t smile. He beams. “Nico and I had an amazing day today, and I need to talk about it with someone.”

His happiness is contagious, and I find myself smiling for the first time today as well. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t remember the last time we had so much fun together.” He starts pacing beside my bed, stopping right next to me before turning in a hurry. “He wanted to build a sandcastle with me, so we tried. It wasn’t half as good as the one you and I made two days ago, though.”

I flick my hair over my shoulder. “Obviously. I am a champion after all.”

He chuckles to himself, adding to the growing list of things he does that tug on my heartstrings.

“We missed you,” he says next, taking an invisible battering ram to the wall protecting my heart.

I glance away. “You’re just saying that.”

He abandons his pacing and walks up to me. “No, I—Wait. Why are your eyes all red and puffy?”

“Huh?”

I’m hit with an overwhelming sense of loss as his smile is replaced with a frown. “Were you…crying?”

I shift my gaze toward the window that overlooks the vast ocean. “No.”

He clasps my chin and twists my head until I look up at him. “I thought you said you were sick.”

Heartsick is more like it. “I am.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It will be.”

His fingers tense against my skin. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll see you at dinner?” The change of topic is far from smooth, but I hope he takes it as a hint that this conversation is over.

He stares at me for a few hard seconds, his mouth opening and closing once before he releases my chin with a nod, turns around, and leaves my room like he just saw a ghost.

I wait until Rafael storms out of my room to open the bag he dropped off. Although he said Nico chose the items, the truth becomes clear within the first ten seconds.

Rafael handpicked most of these items himself but gave Nico all the credit.

I’ve been grocery shopping with Nico before, so he knows I love cookies with rainbow sprinkles and that I prefer snacking on clementines and kettle corn, but his attention to detail usually stops there. Anytime I’ve sent him into another aisle to get me something, he always comes back with the wrong brand, which is an impressive feat in itself, seeing as we usually only have three options back home.

Nico can’t pick out my favorite sparkling water, let alone my favorite flavor, but Rafael apparently can. I’m surprised he even remembered since the strawberry-lemon ones are impossible to get because they are always sold out.

I always thought Rafael was too stuck in his own head to notice little details, but he keeps proving me wrong.

So very, very wrong.

With each item I pull out of the bag, I quickly come to the conclusion that Rafael doesn’t only pay attention.

He cares.

From afar, at least. That way, no one can ever hold it against him.

The truth becomes painfully obvious as I pull out a box of my favorite chamomile tea, my preferred brand of saltine crackers that have the little elf on the packaging, and some fuzzy socks.

While it was probably Nico’s idea to buy me a new pair since it’s become a running joke between us, the pattern has Rafael’s name all over it because there is no way a nine-year-old kid would think to choose socks with alcohol bottles on them.

I press them against my chest and smile at the reminder of home and the eight crazy animals waiting for us to come back.

Rafael even got me more Dramamine pills, plus a few off-brand options for motion sickness with a hotel-branded sticky note that says, Sorry it’s not Xanax, but you can still hold my hand.

I fall back on the bed with a huge grin on my face and my heart swelling to twice its usual size. A care package shouldn’t make me feel so happy I could cry, but the more I think about it, the harder it is to control my emotions.

And I have no one but Rafael Lopez to blame.