Alba drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. “Only about the books. I thought he’d give up—you know, guys promise shit but hardly ever deliver. It took me a year to see I was wrong about him. And I felt bad lying. You cried yourself to sleep over him. No matter how wrecked he seemed, you’re my friend. You come first.”
It was hard to be angry at either of them. But the questions kept piling up.
“Forgive me.” Alba’s hand curled around my knee. “I shouldn’t have agreed to help.”
“No. I’m glad you did.”
She exhaled in relief. “So, what are you going to do?”
The only thing that might finally give me peace. “Listen to him.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Asher
Imade la tortilla because it was Kaia’s favorite. And because I hoped it would remind her of the first time I cooked for her.
The dining table had been set for hours. The candles still needed lighting, the plates of Serrano ham and cheese still waited in the fridge—but all that could wait until after we talked.
Last night proved she still cared. Still wanted me. But this morning she’d been timid, unsure, like she didn’t know what to do with herself after the night we’d shared. I didn’t want her to regret it. I didn’t want to regret it either.
At five minutes to seven, I started pacing the hallway, throat tight, chest heavy with dread. What if she changed her mind? What if she didn’t want to listen? What if she decided my choices were unforgivable?
The intercom buzzed at seven sharp. I blew out a breath, ran a hand down my face, and let her in.
She stepped out of the elevator in a pink knit sweater and jeans, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.
I opened the door wide. “Hi, peque. Come in.”
“Hey.”
Her steps were hesitant as she crossed the threshold. She glanced around as if seeing the place for the first time, then handed me a red box that smelled of chocolate. “For dessert. Whatever you made smells amazing.”
La tortilla, I almost said too quickly. “Thank you for these.” I brushed my fingers against hers as I took the box. “Come with me.”
The living room opened into the dining area. I turned on the floor lamp and gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. Want something to drink?”
Kaia sat, fidgeting with her hands. “Can we talk first?”
I nodded and lowered onto the cushion beside her. City lights flickered beyond the window, but her blue eyes found mine.
“I know about the books,” she said. “I saw the wrapping paper in your drawer. Why did you give them to me, Ash?”
“I wanted you to have something from me.”
Something to make the distance more bearable. A way to keep her from forgetting me. Even when I thought I’d lost her for good, part of me refused to believe it was the end.
“So you’d just keep doing that? For another two years?”
I couldn’t blame her for not understanding. She thought I’d left her just to race for a better team. The truth had to come first.
“The day I dropped you off at school after our weekend together, your father told me he knew about us. He had copies of your diary.”
Hurt flickered in Kaia’s eyes, though she didn’t look surprised.
“He said he’d disown you if I didn’t leave. He’d stop paying for boarding school. Refuse to pay for college.”
Her lips pressed into a hard line, but her chin wobbled. She clenched her fists in her lap. “And you did what he wanted.”
