He follows seconds later with a rough sound buried in my neck, his hips finally losing that perfect control, his cock pulsing with each hot spurt.
When Santiago collapses beside me, he doesn’t let me go, his arms lock around my waist as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
His lips press tender kisses to my temple, my cheek, my jaw. “I love you.”
The words land softly, rich with meaning I want to trust. We’ve spoken about Seattle, about a future, and I understand what this momentmeans to him.
But nothing’s certain. There are no plans, no tickets, no dates marked on a calendar. Only this bed, this silence, this hope I’m scared to name.
I press my face into his neck and breathe him in. He’s shown me the world he loves, and somehow, I’ve become part of it. I want to believe it’s enough to hold us steady once I leave, but the pessimistic part of me has doubts.
Pretending belief isn’t the same as proof, but it’s all I’ve got.
However, I’ve never been touched, seen or loved the way Santiago does. I crave more. Part of me wants to break my whole life apart and start over from here.
I close my eyes and hold him tighter.
The reality is, I’m getting on a plane tomorrow.
This is probably the last time we’ll ever be together in this way.
The best I can do is memorize everything and hope for the best.
Chapter eighteen
Two Days Later
Amonthago,Rosawas someone I admired.
I didn’t know her. She’s not famous in the way celebrity chefs are on red carpets or reality TV.
No, for years, Rosa Delgado’s name was whispered from table to table. Her story was one chefs and sommeliers passed along in awe. A secret too wonderfulto keep. A small woman in Tacoma who turned a family restaurant into something people felt down to the bone.
Intrigued, I made a point of eating there whenever I was in town. Every time, her food and wine pairings stayed with me, the flavors replaying in my mind long after the plates cleared.
Then came the fated first-class flight. Her beside me. No apron, no walls, only a quiet smile shifting everything I thought I knew about timing.
I stand in the aisle, watching her settle into her seat, unaware.
Everything in me has shifted since the day we met. The world is sharper, hungrier, alive in ways it never was before we met. I want Rosa’s laughter in my mornings, her fire in my nights, her quiet in the spaces between. For the first time in my life, I’m not chasing what’s next.
I’m pursuing the love of my life.
Yesterday, I let her believe I’d be two weeks behind. Kissed her goodbye. Told her I’d see her soon. My brother, Matteo, was waiting to pick up my car. I checked in, made it through security and moved through the terminal without her seeing.
Now comes the moment of truth.
When I reach our row, she’s already in her seat. 2D. Hair loose around her shoulders. Same hoodie. Elbows tucked in. On the verge of tears.
Rosa’s folding in on herself.
I slide into 2F.
She turns.
Her face crumples the second she sees me.
A choked sob breaks from her lips before she can stop it. Her hands fly to her mouth. I lift the divider without a word and wrap my arms around her. Her body folds into mine like we never parted.
