Commitment. Monogamy. Dependability.
A home.
“Oh, Luca,” I sigh, pressing a kiss right over his heart. “You could ruin me,” I admit in the quiet morning light.
Then, I lay my head over his heart, close my eyes, and let sleep claim me.
We’re awakened by a constant knock at the door. On my bedside table, my phone buzzes.
Luca stirs beneath me and I roll over, grabbing my phone.
I squint at the screen. Alejandro calling.
Frowning, I pick up. “Qué pasa?” What’s up?
“Open your door,” he replies. “I’m standing outside, banging.”
I close my eyes and tip my head back. Fuck.
“Carla!” My brother reminds me he’s still on the line.
“I’m coming. Give me a minute.” I hang up and turn to Luca.
He stares back with lifted eyebrows and a worried scowl.
“It’s Ale. He’s here,” I explain.
“Is everything okay? Is Marlowe okay?”
Frowning, I realize… “I didn’t ask.”
Luca’s already standing beside the bed, tugging on his clothes.
“What do we tell Ale?” I ask, gesturing between us.
“Whatever you want. If you want to take some time to process this”—he gestures between us—“then tell him we went out for drinks and I crashed here. But I’m not hiding what I feel for you. It means too much.” And with that, he moves toward the front door to let my brother in.
Uh…what? I stare after him, flabbergasted.
But I should have known that Luca doesn’t sneak around or hide who he is. Nope, his unwavering confidence and certainty in his choices are some of his most attractive qualities.
But…do we really need to clue Alejandro into our budding—situationship? Relationship? Night out?—whatever this is, right now?
“Shit.” I rush into the bathroom. I quickly pull myself together and tug on sweats and a tank top.
By the time I enter my kitchen, my brother and Ale are sitting at the kitchen island, drinking coffee and talking.
It turns out, Ale isn’t suspicious of Luca’s presence in my flat in the early morning. He assumes, somewhat correctly, that we got blitzed and crashed after a night of partying. That, and he has bigger things to worry about.
“What is it?” I ask when I see the worry in his expression.
He sighs, placing down his cortado. “The Sewing Circle has descended on Valencia.”
My mouth pops open. The Sewing Circle is comprised of three sharp, witty, hilarious ladies who have known, loved, and helped raise Marlowe since she was a baby. They can give our abuela a run for her money.
“I need your help,” Ale admits.
Luca and I exchange a look and then…we burst out laughing.
