The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

Stopping myself from crawling under the table was becoming a real hardship. But if Isabel kept up the Aaron and Lina questioning for a little longer, I’d have no other choice but to do exactly that. Otherwise, my last resort would be to knock down the bride with one of the metallic trays containing the variety of pinchos we were snacking on. It would be a waste of food, and it was her bachelorette-slash-bachelor party, but it’d be the only way. She was a resilient woman; she’d recover in time for the wedding.

We stood in one of the most frequented bars—sidrerías—of my hometown, surrounded by the characteristically loud chatter of people and the sour smell of spilled sidra—the regional apple cider. These were establishments that one could find in every corner of any city or town in this region of the north of Spain. People gathered around in groups of all sizes and ages. Some stood around tall tables, just like we—bride, groom, best man, Aaron, and I—were doing. Others had been seated to have dinner, and some were leaning on the bar, chatting animatedly with the waiters.

Willing my lungs to take a slow, deep, and calming breath, I tried to order my thoughts, so I could dodge the last one of Isabel’s questions.

“Come on. There has to be more to the story of how you two met.” Isabel’s eyes shone with curiosity, bouncing from me to my very stoic fake boyfriend, who stood close enough to my side to steal a fair chunk of my focus. “You are playing really hard to get, Lina.”

“That’s the whole story, I promise.” Sighing, I averted my eyes to my hands, which were lying on the smooth surface of the table. My fingers were busy playing with my empty glass. “Aaron started working for InTech, and that’s how we met. What else is there that you want to know?”

“I want the details you haven’t told me.”

I could tell my sister was about to start whining in that annoying and persistent way that had never once failed to break people and make them give her whatever it was she wanted. I had been there myself—many times.

She tilted her head. “Hey, if you guys experienced lust at first sight and started hooking up and then dating, it’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of. Plus, it would explain that bed-breaking rumor going around.”

My lips parted, and my eyes widened. “Charo works faster than I thought,” I muttered.

I sensed Aaron shifting by my side, closing the small distance between our arms.

But I didn’t turn to look at him as my sister continued, “I am not Mamá, Lina. You can tell me.” My sister batted her eyelashes, and I heard how Gonzalo cleared his throat. “Or share with the group—fine, whatever.” She rolled her eyes at her fiancé. “Come on. We are listening. Did you guys hook up first? And if so, how many times?”

Daniel, who had been oddly quiet for someone who was supposed to be having a good time, sighed noisily. “I don’t think there’s any need to share that with the group.”

My gaze swiveled in his direction, finding him with a deadpan expression.

“Thanks, Dani,” Isabel gritted out between her teeth. “But I’ll let my sister decide if she wants to share her sexcapades with the table.”

Oh Lord, did she just call it sexcapades?

At the change in Isabel’s tone, Gonzalo wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her against his side. I watched Isabel’s body relax immediately, letting go of what I knew were years of contained animosity toward her fiancé’s brother.

Sighing silently, I felt a pang of guilt slice across my chest. It was unprecedented, and I had no reason to feel responsible for the situation, but at the same time, it was hard not to let some of the weight fall on my own shoulders.

In an ideal world, the best man wouldn’t be my ex. In that same world, I wouldn’t have panicked when learning that he was engaged while I seemed to be stuck in time and alone, and I wouldn’t have felt the need to lie to my family and tangle myself into the web of deception I had woven. Perhaps, in that ideal world, the man by my side would be there because he loved me and not because I had struck a deal with him.

But those scenarios were hypothetical and therefore unreal. Unattainable. And each of them painted a picture that was far from the truth. In the real world, there was a consequence to every decision I made. To every choice that I ever took. A perfect world where life happened neatly and ideally didn’t exist. Life was messy and often hard. It did not wait for anybody to be ready or to expect the bumps on the road. You had to grab on to the wheel and steer your way back to your lane. And that was all I had done. That was what had brought me to where I was. For better or for worse.

It was unfortunate that the one man who Gonzalo shared DNA with was not only my ex, but also the man who had been the other half of the relationship that was the catalyst for me leaving everything I had once called home. But I had made the choice to date him. My university professor. The man who would introduce my sister to the love of her life.

Because life wasn’t ideal. It turned and bent. It spun you out for a minute and swung you right back in the next.

Contrary to what most believed, when I had applied for the program abroad that had taken me to New York, a year after everything had blown up in my face, I hadn’t been escaping Daniel; I had been escaping the situation that my relationship with him had thrust me in. Granted, in the process, he had also broken my heart. And that was what everybody saw. The scolded, heartbroken runaway. But the damage went beyond a simple breakup. After that, I went through the worst year of my life. I almost quit uni and threw away my education. My future. All because people, those I had considered friends at some point, spun disgusting lies about me. And it hadn’t only scarred me; it had also impacted my family.

For one, that sadness that everybody had regarded me with stuck to me across time. And the very few times I had come back home, single, it had thickened until solidifying into something that I carried with me.

Even my parents in a way. I could tell they were scared I’d never bounce back from it. Which was stupid. I was over Daniel. My singlehood had nothing to do with that. I simply … struggled to trust somebody enough to give myself completely. I managed to keep myself one or two feet from anything that had the potential to hurt me. And that always ended one of two ways. I either walked away, or I was the one who was walked away from. But at least, I did come out of it wholly.

As for Isabel, she had gone from loving Daniel for giving her Gonzalo to threatening the best man’s balls. Repeatedly. And while she turned into my fiercest protector and cheerleader, the breakup never shook the foundation of her own relationship. Which was evidence of how much they adored and loved each other. Besides, over the years, she had come to accept that even if Daniel had been at fault for a part, he hadn’t done anything besides accept to break some unspoken rule about dating a former student. Society had done the rest.

Which didn’t give me—or Isabel or Daniel—the right to force Gonzalo to pick a side. Something that Isabel had come to terms with. Eventually. In her own way.

“There were no sexcapades, Isa.” I shook my head lightly, trying to shove all those thoughts and memories away.

“Not even one? Come on. You guys work together. And I saw you during the soccer match. You—”

“It was a very boring and uneventful meeting,” I interrupted her. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Isabel’s mouth opened, and I was left with no choice but to elbow my fake boyfriend.

Maybe Aaron’s confirmation would appease her.

“Correct,” he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “No sexcapades took place.”

I watched my sister’s lips clip closed.

“Unfortunately,” he added.

My own mouth was the one clamping down then. Or it fell open and to the floor—I didn’t know.

Don’t look at him. Don’t look shocked. This is all part of the deception.

Focusing on my sister, I ignored Aaron’s last comment and smiled—hopefully naturally.

Isabel reached for the bottle of sidra and poured a culín in my glass, filling only the bottom of it. Exactly how tradition stated sidra had to be served. Once she had served me a culín, Isabel proceeded to do the same with Aaron’s glass. “You are not telling me something.” Her eyes narrowed to thin slits as she pushed our drinks in our direction. Then, she leveled only me with a look. “I can see it in your eyes. Drink.”

I didn’t think she was bluffing. Lying wasn’t something I was particularly good at, and my sister had the sibling ability to see right through me.

My palms started sweating. My sister was onto something. And I needed to start talking, give her anything.

I downed the contents of my glass in one single gulp—exactly how tradition specified too.

“Fine, okay.” I placed my empty glass on the table. “All right, so the day Aaron and I met …” I started, my eyes unconsciously jumping to Aaron’s face and finding him looking at me with a new kind of interest. I returned my gaze to Isabel. “It was a cold and dark November 22—” I stopped myself, feeling the need to explain why I remembered the date so accurately. “I remember because it was the day of my birthday, not because—” I stopped myself again. Then, I shook my head. I had barely started, and I was doing an awful job already. This was why I should never, ever lie. “Anyway, it was November.”

Aaron’s hand brushed my back very softly. The touch unsettled me at first, but then it magically instilled confidence in me. Just how he had done earlier that day. How he managed to do that, I couldn’t know. But when he moved his fingers over the fabric of my thin blouse, right above my shoulder blades, I felt a little less like a fraud.

“But that isn’t important, I guess,” I continued, and I had to clear my voice lightly because it had come out a little shaky. “When I first met Aaron, it was the day he was introduced as a new team leader by our boss.”

Aaron’s touch turned loose and airy, and then it stopped altogether.

Trying to keep my head on the story and away from the dainty trail of goose bumps he’d left on my skin, I continued, “He entered through that door, all cold confidence and determination. Looking larger than life with those long legs and broad shoulders, and I swear everybody in that meeting room fell into silence. I could immediately tell he’d be that kind of man everybody … respected—for lack of a better word—without more than a word or two. Just by the way he looked around, assessing the situation. As if he were looking for possible threats and coming up with a way to eliminate them before they could manifest. And even then, everyone seemed to be charmed by the new guy.”

I remembered perfectly how everyone had first gaped at the handsome and stern new addition and then silently nodded in appreciation and awe. Me included at first. I’d never admit it, but back then, I had gotten as far as thinking I could let that deep voice of his lure me to sleep every night, and I’d be content for the rest of my days.

“So, yeah, every single one of my colleagues was pretty much enraptured. Not me though. I wasn’t fooled that easily. All throughout Jeff’s and Aaron’s speeches, I kept thinking about how nervous he must have been. I kept noticing his shoulders inching higher and his gaze growing … unsure. As if he were holding himself from bolting out that door. So, I came to the conclusion that he wasn’t as standoffish as he looked, standing there. He couldn’t be. It was just nerves. One couldn’t possibly give off that vibe on purpose. It was his first day, and that was some intimidating shit. I thought he just needed a little push in the right direction. A little friendly welcome to fall into place.”

And then I proceeded to do a very dumb and impulsive thing. Just how I always managed to do. “And I couldn’t have been any more wrong.” I chuckled bitterly. “Maybe Aaron wasn’t nervous—I wouldn’t know. But he didn’t need any kind of push. He was not looking for friends. And he certainly was aware of what impression he was making.” I returned back to the present in that moment, and I was greeted by three pairs of confused eyes. My throat dried out. “I mean, that obviously changed. Eventually,” I added quickly in an unfortunately unconvincing way. “Because we are super in love, so yay!” Throwing my arms in the air, I cheered, trying my best to get the control back, but the gesture landed nowhere near where I’d wanted it to.

Isabel’s face fell slightly, and right before her frown could fully form, Aaron surprised me by coming to my rescue.

“Catalina isn’t wrong. That day, I was a little nervous,” he confessed, and my head swirled in his direction.

Aaron’s gaze was on my sister, which was good because we were in desperate need of some damage control that required all his attention and charm. But also because I didn’t want him to see my expression as I watched him. That trip down memory lane had left me a little too raw for hiding how I really felt about that day.

“I didn’t have any plans or hopes of making friends, not during that first meeting and not any day after,” he continued.

Well, that wasn’t a shock to me, not after almost two years of enduring the consequences of that position.

“And I was plenty obvious about it. The last thing I wanted was someone getting the wrong idea and thinking I was there for anything that wasn’t doing the best job I could. And in my book, that is not compatible with telling jokes and exchanging family tales. That day though, Lina showed up in my office. A little after five p.m.” He looked down at his hands, and his eyelids sheltered the blue in his eyes for just a heartbeat.

For a reason I couldn’t explain, my heart raced in my chest at the memory. Embarrassment. It had to be the physical reaction to reliving that embarrassing moment through Aaron’s words.

“Her cheeks were flushed, and there were some snowflakes still clinging to her hair and coat. She was carrying a gift bag with a ridiculous pattern of tiny party hats printed on it. As I took her in, I was certain that she had gotten the wrong office, that she couldn’t possibly be there, carrying some kind of gift for me. Maybe she was looking for the guy who had sat there before me.”

I watched his throat work as his words held his audience’s attention.

“And I was going to tell her, but I didn’t stand a chance. She started babbling some nonsense about how cold New York was in winter and how irritating people turned when it snowed, how chaotic instead of peaceful the city actually was. ‘As if it’s my fault that New Yorkers hate the snow,’ she said. ‘It’s like the cold numbs their brains, and they turn stupid.’ ” Aaron smiled sheepishly. Very briefly, one moment there and the next gone.

And I kept staring at his profile, eating up his words and how they sent me right back to that day.

At that point, my heart banged against my chest with growing urgency, as if it were a wild thing, asking to be let out. Begging to ask all the questions taking shape in my head and threatening to do it itself if I didn’t.

“She placed the bag on my desk and then told me to open it. But the cold must have numbed my brain, too, because instead of doing that, I kept gawking at it. Petrified and … intrigued. Staring at it and not having the slightest clue as to what to do with it.”

He had done that, and his reaction had made me panic and jump into crisis-control Lina. Which had been my second mistake that day.

“When I didn’t reach for it, she shoved her hand into the bag and pulled the contents out herself.” Aaron chuckled, but he wasn’t laughing. Because the curt noise was almost sad.

I wasn’t laughing either. I was too busy chewing on the fact that he remembered everything. All of it. In detail. My chest filled with more questions.

“It was a mug. And it had a joke printed on it. It said, Engineers don’t cry. They build bridges and get over it.”

Someone laughed then. Isabel or perhaps Gonzalo—I wasn’t sure. With all that crazy banging, my heart had somehow moved up my throat and to my temples, so it was hard to focus on anything besides its beating and Aaron’s voice.

“And you know what I did?” he continued, bitterness filling his tone. “Instead of laughing like I wanted to, instead of looking up at her and saying something funny that would hopefully make her give me one of those bright smiles I had somehow already seen her give so freely in the short day I had been around her, I pushed it all down and set the mug on my desk. Then, I thanked her and asked her if there was anything else she needed.”

I knew I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but I was. Just as much as I had been back then, if not more. It had been such a silly thing to do, and I had felt so tiny and dumb after he brushed it away so easily.

Closing my eyes, I heard him continue, “I pretty much kicked her out of my office after she went out of her way and got me a gift.” Aaron’s voice got low and harsh. “A fucking welcome gift.”

I opened my eyes just in time to watch him turn his head in my direction. Our gazes met.

“Just like the big jerk I had advertised myself to be, I ran her out. And to this day, I regret it every time it crosses my mind. Every time I look at her.” He didn’t even blink as he talked, looking straight into my eyes. And I didn’t think I did either. I didn’t think I was even breathing. “All the time I wasted so foolishly. All the time I could have had with her.”

If I hadn’t been leaning on the tall table of the sidrería, I would have fallen to the floor. My legs weren’t able to support my weight any longer. My body had somehow numbed. Aaron looked at me—no, he looked into me. And in return, he let me do the same. I couldn’t know how, but I swore, in that moment, he was laying bare a little piece of himself in front of me. He was trying to tell me something I didn’t think I had the ability to process. Or was he? Was he begging me to remember that this was all a farce? Or was he begging me to remember that even if it was, his words still held part of the truth?

But that couldn’t make any sense, could it?

No. Nothing did. Not me wondering and not whatever I thought I had heard in his words or seen in his eyes.

Certainly not the way my heart had broken free and turned into a wrecking ball, demolishing everything it found on its way and leaving nothing more than a trail of shambles behind.

“And what happened next?” a familiar voice asked.

“Then,” Aaron answered, and his hand rose, the backs of his fingers brushing my cheek, “I acted like a fool—an idiot, depending on who you ask—for a little longer.”

My eyelids hid my eyes, breaking off the contact. I could feel my blood pumping through my body. The imprint of the ghost of his touch right beneath my cheekbone.

“And eventually, I somehow managed to make her give me the time of day. I talked her into believing that she needed me. Then, I showed her—proved to her—that she did.”

My eyes were still closed. I didn’t trust myself to open them.

I didn’t want to see Aaron. His face, his lips, the serious line of his jaw. I didn’t want to see if there were any secrets in the depths of the ocean in his eyes.

I was terrified of not finding a single thing there. Of finding something. Everything, anything. I … was simply terrified. Confused.

Then, someone started clapping. And I heard the unmistakable voice of my sister.

“You,” she said when I blinked open my eyes. Isabel’s voice sounded shaky with emotion and anger. All at once.

Not that I cared at that moment. I was looking into Aaron’s eyes again. And he hadn’t lifted his gaze off me.

What is happening? What are we doing?

My sister continued talking, “That was so beautiful, Aaron. And you, Catalina Martín Fernández,” she used our two last names, which meant trouble. “You are no sister of mine any longer. I can’t believe you kept all that from me. You made me talk about sexcapades and lust when the truth is so much better than all that superficial crap.”

The truth. That little word soured my stomach.

“Good thing your boyfriend has better sense. You are so very lucky he’s here.”

Aaron kept his eyes on me when he said, “See? It’s a very good thing I’m here.”

That sent my heart into doing another cartwheel.

“Oh, Aaron.” I heard my sister exhale shakily, and I could tell she was about to cry. Or kick my ass. It could be either one of those. “You have no idea how happy this makes me. It’s the best wedding gift I could ever get, seeing my little sister finally …” Her voice wobbled. “After all this time, it’s just …” A hiccup. “Oh, man. Why am I crying when I want to kick her ass? It must … it must … be …” She hiccupped again.

Oh dear Lord.

Tearing my gaze off Aaron, I reluctantly turned to my sister. She was full-on bawling. And she looked pissed off too.

“It must be all this wedding pressure,” I thought she mumbled.

Daniel, who I had completely forgotten about, said something under his breath and reached for the bottle of sidra. It was empty, so he placed it back on the table and bolted in the direction of the bar.

“Ven aquí, tonta.” Gonzalo pulled my sister into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. Then, he mouthed over her head, More alcohol.

Yep. Only that would save the night if the bride was weeping.

Especially when it was over a story that wasn’t true.

Because it couldn’t be.

It was all a lie. A deception.

Aaron had played with the truth. Just how I had asked him to do. He had adorned it, altered it so it fit this charade we were staring. It was nothing more than that. We were still the same Aaron and Lina who had left New York.

And on that note, Aaron would still be promoted to my boss.

Did you hear that, stupid and delusional heart? No more weird business.

Where Aaron Blackford was concerned, it was all an act.

By the time we rolled into the next spot, the club—and calling that to the modest and scrubby bar that doubled as a club at midnight was a stretch—I was ninety nine percent sure I might have crossed the tipsy border and walked right into drunkland.

The remaining one percent was divided. With all that sidra pumping through my veins, it was hard to discern if the way I felt had everything to do with the alcohol or if it was partly due to the man who had been watching over me like a hawk.

Aaron had stopped drinking at some point between Isabel’s waterfalls show and the arrival of the rest of the bachelorette and bachelor party to the sidrería. Which I wasn’t sure was a good thing. He was completely sober, and that meant, tomorrow, he’d recall every single detail of the night. And that wasn’t good. Not when every time he touched me, my body came openly alive, and then I proceeded to melt to the floor. And definitely not when every time he dipped his head to ask me if I was doing okay or if I was having fun, my heart decided that my chest wasn’t roomy enough and plunged itself to the pit of my stomach.

As for the rest? Well, I was mostly preoccupied with the way the loud music was filling my ears and spreading all the way to my hips and feet as we navigated the crowded and dark place.

Moving forward into the sea of bodies with the rest of the party in tow—or not because chances were, we had lost them—I was unexpectedly shoved back a couple of staggering steps. Aaron, who had been walking very close behind, intercepted me. His arm came around my waist, and his palm landed on my hip.

In one swift motion, he had me secured against him.

Just like I had experienced about a hundred twenty times that night, all my nerve endings were instantly charged with electricity the moment my back came into contact with his front. Every inch of my skin that was flushed against him heated. Even through the thin fabric of my blouse and his button-down.

His long and strong fingers squeezed my hip.

Turning my head to look up at his face, I didn’t care that my lips had parted and that my eyes probably looked hazy and a little clouded. Just how I felt. But then again, it wasn’t like I could conceal it. For whatever reason—the alcohol in my system or Aaron’s closeness—I simply couldn’t hide it.

So, instead, for the first time, I let myself enjoy it. Let my whole focus be on him. On all the points where our bodies touched and on the way he looked down at me. I focused on Aaron and on the way he was holding me against him as we blocked the way further inside the bar.

Keeping our gazes locked over my shoulder, I allowed my back to relax into him. And something danced in the blue of his eyes. I thought he was going to smile, but his mouth pressed in a serious line.

“You got me,” I said over the blaring music. “My savior. Always coming to my rescue, Mr. Kent.”

A part of me knew that was mostly the alcohol talking. But Aaron didn’t answer. His lips remained sealed as I watched his throat work. Someone behind him called us. Or perhaps it had come from the opposite side of the overcrowded bar. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I was going to tell Aaron to ignore it, but then he somehow tugged me under his side. Wrapping a large hand around mine at the same time.

I liked that. Far too much. So I didn’t complain.

Aaron guided me through the place as if he were the one who had spent countless nights here when he was younger. The bar was every bit as gloomy and packed with swirling bodies as I remembered. The music still boomed too loudly, and the floors were sticky with spilled drinks.

I loved it.

And I loved that Aaron was here with me tonight too. I loved that he protected me from those who accidentally—or drunkenly—pushed and shoved.

I loved many, many things right then. And I had the need to tell him.

Stopping, I turned around and went on my tiptoes, hopefully going somewhere near Aaron’s ear and not his armpit or something because that would be really embarrassing. “Don’t you love this place? I do. It’s nothing like New York’s fancy-schmancy clubs, huh?”

Aaron leaned down, his lips hovering over the shell of my ear. “It’s very … authentic.” He paused but didn’t retrieve his mouth from that spot. A shiver crawled down my back. “At first, I was a little wary. I’m not gonna lie.”

I felt the corners of my lips tugging up. Yeah, the place was definitely not Aaron’s style.

“But now …” he continued, and his lips brushed the sensitive area below my ear, making me melt and come to life, all at once. “Now, I think I could stay here until the sun comes up. Maybe even a little longer.”

My lips parted, but as I was ready to speak, someone pushed me, and the words were ripped off my tongue. I was shoved further into Aaron’s body, this time front to front. And I immediately felt against me all the hard planes and lean muscles I had witnessed shining under the sun that morning.

Something beneath my skin quickened, almost like a zap.

My body urged me to obliterate the last inch of space between us. It was crazy how much I wanted to do that. I felt the urgency in my blood. As if my heart were pumping pure madness across my body. Making me reckless. So much so that my arms lifted of their own accord, my hands linking behind Aaron’s neck. I watched his eyes widen for just a heartbeat, and then something simmered and flared in his gaze. That blue blaze wiped clean the surprise, replacing it with something that looked a lot like hunger.

Everybody else around us was dancing to a beat that my hazy mind seemed to remember from something. It was Latin; it was decadent and fun and what summer nights in Spain were usually made of. Without really knowing how, my hips started moving. Aaron’s hands shifted to my waist. And we were dancing. The memory of doing that with him not so long ago blindsided me for an instant. How ironic it was that we’d found ourselves in the same situation so soon after and that we seemed like completely different people.

It didn’t make sense.

But I didn’t care. Not tonight.

My fingers played with the short strands of hair in Aaron’s nape as our hips swayed to the Latin beat. So soft—his hair was so very soft. Just how I had imagined. I pulled a little on the strands, not knowing why. In answer, Aaron’s fingers tightened on my waist, causing my blood to swirl and heat, gathering in all kinds of interesting places.

Without being able to stop myself, I went up on my tiptoes again, not needing an excuse to examine his face closer. He wasn’t frowning or smiling, but there was something about his features that made him look different. Unbound. Yes, that was it. There wasn’t a trace at all of that restraint I was so used to seeing in him. And to me, that made him look as handsome as he had ever looked.

Maybe I should tell him.

My lips parted with the words, and I watched his gaze dip to them. The look in his eyes released a flock of butterflies low in my belly.

“Aaron,” I said, but I was distracted by the way he was looking at me. I didn’t think I was dancing anymore. What was I going to say?

“Do you trust me, Catalina?” he asked me.

Yes. The answer flashed across my mind, but I didn’t voice it. There was something that had intercepted the three-letter word. Something I was vaguely aware I needed to remember.

Aaron’s fingers spread, and his thumbs trailed across the fabric of my blouse. One of them slipped beneath the hem. The simple contact sent a wave of pure awareness across my skin.

“You don’t, not yet,” he said against my ear, and then his lips hovered above my cheek, causing my breath to hitch. “But you will trust me; I’ll make sure of it.”

I … I didn’t think I understood that. Not then and probably not anytime soon. But what did that matter when his mouth was so close to mine? When his lips were dancing across my jaw, barely making contact, which only drove me crazy. If I moved, if I just tilted my head and—

A squeal and a hand landing on my arm burst whatever thought had formed in my head.

And the next thing I knew, I was being dragged away from Aaron. Another loud screech hinted at who was behind me, pulling at my arm.

“Lina, nuestra canción!” my sister yelled over the music, stopping us both at a narrow opening, where there was some space.

Our song?

My ears took the song blasting through the speakers as my brain worked out the situation slowly.

It was impossible not to recognize the beat. How could I not when that infamous video of my sister and me dancing to this very same song had been played over and over at family gatherings and Christmas for the last twenty years? Both the music and the choreography were ingrained in my brain forever. “Yo Quiero Bailar” by Sonia y Selena was playing, and that only meant one thing.

“Time to pay up!” Gonzalo cheered.

That was followed by everyone else making as much space as they could around Isabel and me as the rest of Team Bride assembled behind us to deliver the payout for losing the Wedding Cup.

My body came alive with the familiar beat.

“You’ll pay for this, bridezilla,” I yelled over the music as we looked at each other, readying our positions to start the infamous choreography.

“Me?!” she yelled back as we moved our butts in sync. “You’ll thank me later.”

We swirled with our arms up and then shimmied our way down.

“What do you mean?” I demanded as we bumped our hips, following through with the stupid dance.

I was aware of the rest of our improvised array of back dancers from Team Bride somewhere behind us. They were replicating our moves as well as they could. To their credit, I didn’t think my sister’s—or my—drunken attempts were that easy to imitate.

“What I mean is …” Isabel said as we came closer again, faced each other, and high-fived over our heads. Then, we started lowering our bodies to the floor with the beat of the song, making our way down in a way that was supposed to be seductive and probably ended up being unnaturally clumsy. “If your boyfriend’s smoldering eyes are any indication, you are so going to get extra laid tonight.”

Her words had barely entered my ears and registered when I almost landed on my ass.

My head shot to my side, taking in our audience and immediately landing on a very particular set of eyes. Smoldering eyes, as Isabel had just put it. And as my body went through the motions, relying on only muscle memory, I couldn’t tear my gaze off that pair of piercing blue eyes.

I executed the routine almost absently, not able to look anywhere else. Magnetized by those two blue spots that seemed to be ignited with light. And while I could blame the alcohol running through my bloodstream, I couldn’t figure out what his excuse was.

He ate up every ridiculous and silly motion as if he were contemplating something that was more than a routine created by a pair of teenagers a bunch of years ago. He looked at me as if I was more than a grown-ass woman executing a goofy and wacky dance. Like he couldn’t get enough. Just as if he were about to part the crowd and close the distance between us so he could drink in even the smallest of my motions.

I had never been looked at that way. Not ever.

When the song came to an end and transitioned into the next hit from a decade ago, whatever was passing between Aaron and me churned low in my stomach. With urgency. So much that it made me dizzy and flustered and about to crawl out of my skin.

The memory of my body flush against his flickered through my mind. That had only happened a few minutes ago.

My heart raced in my chest as I tried to gather myself, to control my breath. Sweat dripping down my back and arms, an overwhelming sensation made its way across my whole body.

I needed air, fresh air. That always helped.

“I’m going outside for a second,” I told Isabel as I wrapped her in a quick hug.

My sister nodded, distracted by the song playing, which happened to be her new favorite tune in the world. I veered for the door, not daring to look back at Aaron. I couldn’t. I just … couldn’t.

I needed to order my thoughts.

Once I made my way through the sea of dancing bodies, I stepped outside. The night was warm and humid, and I welcomed the breeze from the sea hitting my skin.

The relief was instant but short-lived. Now, my legs seemed to weigh about a hundred pounds each.

But I’d take that over everything I had been feeling back inside. I also regretted every drink I had had tonight. Maybe with a clearer mind, I’d be able to understand whatever the hell was going on. Particularly why my heart seemed to be plotting against me.

Letting myself fall onto the side of the road, I sat, so I could rest my legs. This was a pedestrian area, and only resident cars were allowed to drive through. Given the time, almost three in the morning, chances of being run over were low. So, I took my time, trying to appease whatever was still making my skin flush and tingle.

Eyes shut and elbows on my knees, I focused on the muffled music coming out of the bar.

The door behind me opened and closed quickly after.

I knew he was there before he said anything. He didn’t need to. I was attuned to him, it seemed. To this quiet man whose presence always spoke to me far louder than his words. Not turning back, I listened to his heavy footsteps as he walked to where I was, sitting on the lukewarm pavement of the sidewalk. Aaron let his body fall into place right beside me. His long legs stretched ahead, taking possibly two times the space mine did.

A bottle of water fell softly on my lap.

“You’ll probably want to drink that,” Aaron said.

The overwhelming sensation that had pushed me to walk outside had not dissipated yet, hampering my thoughts.

He nudged my leg with his knee, encouraging me.

I regarded the bottle still on my lap. I was so freaking exhausted all of a sudden, and my arms felt too heavy to reach for it and open it. My whole body felt like that. And Aaron was sitting so close, all big and warm, so inviting for me to lean my head on his arm and close my eyes for just a minute. Just one really short nap.

“No sleeping, baby. Please.” Aaron snagged the bottle from where he had placed it, opened it, and shoved it back in my hand. “Drink up,” he said softly.

Another nudge of his leg.

And what a beautiful leg that was. He probably had more muscles on his quadriceps alone than I had on my whole body. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I took a big gulp of water as I continued my perusal.

That is a very good-looking right thigh, I thought as I returned the bottle to my lap.

A little chuckle had me glancing at the man responsible for it. His lips bent in a lopsided smile, distracting me.

“Thank you,” he said, his smile stretching. “Nobody has ever complimented that particular part of my leg.”

I frowned.

Did I say that out loud?

Ah Hell.

Looking at him, still in silence, I opted to drink some more water. My brain was clearly dehydrated if I was going around, voicing whatever crossed my mind.

“Feeling better?” Aaron asked from my side.

“Not yet,” I gave him a wobbly smile. “But thank you.”

His frown made an appearance, wrinkling his forehead. “I’ll take you back to the apartment. Come on.” The legs I had been so busy admiring flexed, ready to push his body upward.

“No, wait.” My hand landed on that very good-looking—and oh, really hard—thigh, stopping him. “Not yet, please. Can we stay here just for a little while?”

Aaron’s blue eyes seemed to assess something, probably my state. But his big body stayed put beside mine.

“Thanks.” My gaze fell back on his stretched legs again. “There’s something I need to tell you. A confession.” I didn’t look back at him, but I sensed him tense. “I Googled you, just once. But I did.”

Aaron seemed to ponder that for a moment. But he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he snatched the bottle of water from my grip, opened it, and indicated to me to drink some more.

I complied and downed the rest of the contents. Then, he retrieved the empty bottle, and I thought I heard him mutter something, but I wasn’t sure.

“I found lots of stuff, you know. That’s why I only allowed myself to Google you one single time,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “I was scared of finding something that would change what I thought of you.”

“And did you?”

“Yes, and no.” Had what I found changed the image I had of Aaron? I didn’t think I could answer that. “I probably scrolled down photos upon photos of you until Google had nothing else to show me.”

“That’s a lot of scrolling.”

“I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Do you want to hear about what I found?”

He didn’t answer, so I told him anyway, “There was this one image of you in the middle of the field; your back was to the camera, and you had your golden helmet hanging off your hand. I couldn’t see more than your back, but I swear I could tell what your face looked like. I could picture in my head how your eyebrows were wrinkled on your forehead and how your jaw was bunched up—the way you do when you are upset but you don’t want to show you are.”

Aaron had gone quiet, so I stole a glance at him. He was looking at me, and there was something that looked a lot like shock in his expression.

But I was no-filter Lina tonight, and I didn’t seem to care about talking or revealing too much. “Then, there were the articles,” I went on. “There were more than a few, and they all praised you as a player. As an NFL promise. But then it all stopped. It was as if you had dropped off the face of the earth.”

Aaron’s eyes looked vacant, as if he were no longer there with me, sitting on the sidewalk in the Spanish town that had seen me grow up.

I continued, not because I wanted to press him for details, but because I somehow couldn’t stop from explaining myself, “I don’t think there are many football promises who hang the helmet for the not-so-glamorous life we lead as engineers for a medium-sized technology company.” I didn’t know much about how college football worked, but the little I had read during my Googling session told me I wasn’t wrong. “Ever since you told me about it, I have been wondering what could have possibly led you to make such a decision. An injury? Burnout? How does someone jump from one side to the other?”

I brushed my fingers across his forearm. I thought it would startle him, but it didn’t. Instead, his other hand wrapped around mine, and then he placed our interlaced fingers on his thigh.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” I squeezed his hand. It was really okay, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel somehow disappointed. “If you don’t want to tell me.”

Aaron didn’t say anything for a long moment. I used that time to come to terms with the fact that he’d never open up to me. Not that I’d blame him. I hadn’t been completely honest with him about my past either. But as much as I tried to tell myself otherwise, the falling sensation in my chest made it hard to ignore how I really felt. I wanted to know. I wanted to unearth and learn everything about his past because I knew deep inside me that it was the key to finally understanding the man he was today. And him not letting me in only reminded me that I wasn’t different from anybody else.

“Catalina,” he finally said, and he followed that with a deep and tired sigh. “I want to tell you. I’d gladly tell you everything about me.”

My heart decided to resume all those shenanigans I had been dealing with that night. He’ll tell me everything about him.

“But you are barely standing on your own feet. You are in no condition to stay with me for a complete conversation.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I said very quickly. “I am not that drunk. I will listen, I promise.” Even though I was feeling slightly better, there were chances I’d fall on my face if I moved too fast. But that wouldn’t stop me. “I can prove it. Look.” My legs pushed my body up, propelling me in a rather wobbly way. But that didn’t matter. I’d prove to Aaron I was completely fine.

I wasn’t going to let the chance slip through my slightly intoxicated fingers or legs—

A pair of big hands cut my trajectory, holding me by the waist.

“Easy there. Let’s keep the standing to a minimum,” Aaron said as he effortlessly returned me to my former position, right beside him. Perhaps a little closer to his body. Which I wouldn’t complain about. “Do you want to know that badly?”

“Yes. I want to know everything,” I confessed, following no-filter Lina’s lead again.

A humorless laugh left him. “I never planned for this to happen this way.”

My hazy brain didn’t really understand that, but before I could ask, he continued, “I always played football. That was all I knew for almost two decades. My dad was sort of a big deal in the coaching and management world back home, in Washington.” Aaron shook his head, those disheveled, short locks almost flickering under the soft light of the street. “He knew how to spot potential, had done it a million times. He was known for that. So, when he realized I had that raw talent he talked about so much, it was as if all those years of his career had been preparing him for that. For having a son he could mold into the perfect player from the very beginning.”

“He coached you since you were a kid?” I murmured.

Aaron flexed his legs and leaned his elbows on his knees. “More than that. He turned me into his own personal project. He had this kid with potential for becoming everything he had dreamed of, right at home. And he had the tools and the experience to make that possible. There was no room for failure. He worked hard on turning me into this flawless football machine, which he had carefully assembled together since the moment my legs were strong enough to run after a ball and my hands were large enough to hold one.” Aaron paused. He was facing the gloomy street in front of us, and I could see how his profile turned hard. “We both worked on that. And for the longest time, I thrived in it.”

I found myself shifting closer to him until my arm and shoulder were completely flush against him.

“How did that change?” I asked, letting my body lean a little on Aaron’s side. “When did you stop enjoying playing?”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, something softening in his expression. “That photo you mentioned earlier?” he asked, and then he faced away from me, staring into the empty street in front of us. “That was the last game I ever played.” Aaron paused, and I could tell he needed a moment to gather himself from the way his voice had sobered. “That happened exactly one year after my mom passed away.”

My heart squeezed in my chest, and I felt this urge to wrap my body around him, so I could shield him from the pain in his voice. But I limited myself to grabbing his warm hand and slipping my fingers between his. Aaron brought our interlaced hands to his lap.

“In that moment, as I stood there, watching the crowd and my teammates celebrate a victory I couldn’t bring myself to care about, I decided I’d pull out from the draft. And I did.”

“That must have hurt so much,” I told him, my thumb caressing the warm skin on the back of his hand. “All of it, losing your mom and letting go of something you had worked all your life toward.”

“It did, yeah.” His head dipped, and I watched him look at our intertwined hands. “My dad couldn’t understand it. He wouldn’t even try.” A bitter chuckle left him. “My football career had turned into the perfect escape, following Mom’s diagnosis. Instead of that consolidating our father-and-son relationship, it turned us into coach and player instead. Nothing more than that.”

More loss. My heart broke for Aaron. I squeezed his hand and then very slowly leaned my head on his arm.

He continued, “He said I was throwing away my life. My future. That I would fail. That if I did drop an opportunity that would change my life, he didn’t want to have anything to do with me. So, I graduated and left Seattle.”

Aaron still held my hand in his lap; his fingers had tightened around mine as he talked. I kept the side of my head on him as I felt my other hand fly to his forearm. It was the only way I could express how sorry I was for what he had gone through without engulfing him in a tight hug I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let go of. At least, not for the rest of the night.

“It must have been so hard, growing up, limited by someone else’s idea of what you should and should not be.”

He absently played with my fingers, the soft caresses of his skin against mine causing tingles to crawl up my arm. “I realize that now, in hindsight. I never noticed while it happened; it was just how things were. I was given a set of goals, and I simply went with it,” he explained, his thumb trailing up my wrist. “I was never unhappy—at least, not until I realized that perhaps I wasn’t completely happy either.”

“And now? Are you completely happy now, Aaron?”

Those soft brushes of his fingers against mine came to a stop, and he didn’t hesitate when he answered, “Completely? Not yet. But I’m working my fucking hardest on getting there.”