An annoyed huff came from behind me.
“I might.” I giggled.
“She won’t.” Asher wrapped his arm around my waist, tugging me against him.
His grandma shook her head, her smile returning. “Whatever you did to that cynic, Kaia, thank you.”
“Ya está. Buenas noches.” Asher kissed her cheek and tugged my hand, pulling me inside.
“That’s it—good night?” I teased as we stepped into the foyer. “Where are your manners, Asher Williams?”
“Too tired to be roasted, peque.” He led me up the stone staircase, his palm warm around mine. At the top, he stopped in front of a brown wooden door.
“Welcome,” Asher said, pushing it open.
Spaces felt like people sometimes. This one felt like him. A few trophies and books lined a shelf above a neatly made bed, and framed photos hung on the wall.
In one of them, Asher was with his dad. In the other, with his dad and his grandparents. No pictures with Sharon—sad but expected. She didn’t keep his photos in her bedroom either.
Asher wrapped his arms around me from behind. “This used to be Dad’s room. I took it when he died.”
I covered his hands with mine. “I’m sorry, peque.”
His breath gusted warm against my neck. “Me too.” He kissed my shoulder, then nudged me toward the bed. “Look who’s on my nightstand.”
My gaze drifted to the three framed photographs. I was in each—at the cabin after our first time, on his bike on Valentine’s Day, on the beach with him. He must have put them there while we were apart. My chest swelled; knowing how much I meant to him never lost its power.
Asher chuckled into my hair. “Grandma calls this display Kaia’s shrine.”
“I already love your grandma.”
“She loves you too.” He kissed the top of my head. “You don’t mind staying with her tomorrow, do you? I need to go to the track in Jerez. A racing gear brand wants some pictures after training. You could come, but you might get bored waiting.”
I turned in his arms and pecked his jaw. “Ash, it’s work. I’ll be fine with your grandma.”
This was my chance to know her better—and plan something for his birthday.
“Good.” He brushed my side with his thumb. “I’ll grab the suitcases. The shower’s yours.” He nodded toward the en suite, a devilish smile tugging at his mouth. “Don’t lock the door.”
***
I woke in the sunlit room alone. The clock across from the bed read eleven. I sat up quickly, rubbing the last of sleep from my eyes. After freshening up and brushing my teeth, I pulled on jeans, the sweater Alba had given me, and hurried downstairs.
Maricarmen sat in the courtyard with coffee at a small round table draped in a flowered cloth.
“Buenos días,” I said as I approached. “Sorry for sleeping in.”
“Hola, mi niña. Don’t apologize. Women need more sleep than men, and you should take it while you can. ¿Un cafecito?”
She lifted the pot. The rich scent of fresh coffee drifted up, and I closed my eyes. “Please.”
“I knew you’d appreciate it.” She chuckled, pouring into a pretty ceramic cup. “Take some milk if you want. And a croissant unless you’d like something else.”
I reached for the plate. The pastry was still warm, and Maricarmen winked.
“I didn’t make it. The bakery’s down the street. They have the best bread too.”
“Thank you for buying it anyway,” I said, biting into the golden crust. The croissant tasted as good as it looked—sweet and buttery. “Do they also have cakes? I’d bake one for Ash, but I’m not that great at it.”
