He winks at me and saunters out of the kitchen.
I watch him go, fork suspended halfway to my mouth.
Sergio clears his throat. "You sure about this?"
"About what?"
"Working with Carlos. All day. Just the two of you." He's trying very hard to keep his expression neutral. Failing.
"Why?" I take another bite. The eggs are perfect - fluffy and cheesy and exactly how I like them even though I nevertold anyone how I like them. "You think I can't handle manual labor?"
"I think Carlos has been in love with you for six years and working alone with him every day is going to complicate things."
The fork clatters onto my plate.
Pedro makes a choking sound. Nacho's eyes go wide.
"Sergio," Pedro hisses. "We agreed—"
"We agreed to let her figure it out on her own time." Sergio stands, carries his plate to the sink. "But she's about to spend forty hours a week alone with him. She deserves a heads up."
I find my voice. It comes out higher than normal. "Carlos is not in love with me."
Sergio turns around. Leans against the sink. Crosses his arms over his chest. "Okay."
"He's not."
"If you say so."
"He kissed me once. Six years ago. That's not love. That's just... attraction. Chemistry. A moment."
"You're right." Sergio's expression doesn't change. "That's definitely all it was. The fact that he's been single for years, turned down approximately forty women who asked him out, and lights up like Christmas morning every time you walk in a room? Totally unrelated."
My mouth opens. Closes. No sound comes out.
"Have fun building the deck." Sergio dries his hands on a dish towel. "Try not to overthink it."
He walks out.
Nacho stands, grabs his hat from the counter. "I need to get to work. Jess, if you need help with the bank stuff, legal stuff, anything - I know people. Just say the word."
"Thank you."
He squeezes my shoulder as he passes. Then he's gone too.
Just me and Pedro.
He's still leaning against the counter, still clutching his mug like it's the only thing holding him together.
"You don't have to do this," he says finally. "Work for Carlos. We can help you. Loan you money until—"
"I'm not taking your money." I cut another piece of pancake. "I'm not a charity case."
"You're pack."
The word lands between us like a stone in still water.
"I'm Callum's ex-girlfriend who's crashing in your guest room because my apartment flooded. That's not the same thing."
