Oliver made atsking sound. “I told Skylar and Vanessa that they were to be taking today and tomorrow off. Looks like they will be getting an extra day off to make up for doing a bit of unauthorized work today.”
I patted his knee. “You are such a disciplinarian, darling.” Oliver laughed and draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. It was warm and comfortable, and I could have easily stayed there forever.
Carmen checked a text message on her phone. “Anton is on his way back now. Our housekeeper has some food ready for us—I thought we could eat out on the patio tonight. We can get started and Anton will join us when he gets home.”
Oliver gave my shoulder a squeeze before releasing me and standing. “Sounds wonderful, I’m famished.”
I rose and elbowed his side. “How? You had so much to eat at the game.”
“An exciting match makes me hungry, what can I say?”
We followed Carmen outside onto the stone patio, which was lit with strings of lights. A collection of outdoor chairs and two couches surrounded a low table topped with plates of tortilla española, patatas bravas, pan con tomate, slices of jamón Ibérico and manchego, and small skewers that held a combination of green olives, anchovies, and small pickled peppers. Wine glasses and two bottles of red wine completed the spread.
An outdoor fireplace was roaring, warming the space. Although the early March weather was significantly warmer here than it was back home in Wexstone, I wasgrateful for the fire as I sank onto one of the couches and pulled a blanket over my lap.
“Wine?” Carmen asked as she sat across from us and lifted one of the bottles. “This is my favorite Tempranillo.” Oliver and I both nodded and Carmen poured three glasses of the ruby-red wine. She passed us each a glass before holding her own up. “¡Salud!”
“¡Salud!” Oliver and I repeated before taking a sip. The wine was delicious, a beautiful balance of earthy and fruity. I made a mental note to pick a bottle up to bring home to King Leroy and Queen Isobel before we left the next day.
I nestled into the couch cushions as Oliver helped himself to a plate of food. “Carmen, how did you and Anton meet?”
Carmen let out a soft giggle. “Believe it or not, the supermarket.” She took a small sip of her wine and then began her story. “I had just gotten back into town from a trip and went to the store to pick up a few things to tide me over until I could make a thorough list and do a larger shop the next day.
“I walked over to the produce section and saw this tall, handsome man just staring blankly at the onions, so I asked him if he was okay or if he needed help. His face lit up with relief, and he told me that his mother was coming to visit and he was making dinner for her birthday. The recipe called for a red onion. ‘There are all of these onions, but none of them are red!’ he told me.”
I snorted and Carmen shot me a wink. She continued, “Poor thing, he was clearly stressed about making his mamá a good dinner. So, I picked up a red onion and handed it to him. He gave me the wildest look and insisted I was wrong.” Carmen rolled her eyes as she took another sip of wine. Oliver and I both laughed.
“I told him, ‘I’m not sure you’re in a place to be mansplaining produce to me,’ and explained that it was indeed a red onion even though it was purple. He did have the sense to apologize before ranting about how it should be called a purple onion instead of a red onion. Somehow, I found myself offering to help this buffoon find the rest of the ingredients he needed.
“We talked as we shopped and when we were done, he practically begged me to come back to his house and help him cook. I laughed in his face!”
“You said, ‘I may be young but I’m not dumb. You could be an axe murderer. I refuse to end up on one of those true crime podcasts,’” Anton interrupted as he strode onto the patio, dressed in jeans with a Real Madrid warm-up jacket zipped over a black T-shirt.
Oliver stood and embraced his friend as I rose to shake his hand.
“Adelaide, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” His smile was bright and captivating. I could see how Carmen had so easily fallen for him.
Anton walked over to Carmen and kissed her hello and then held her gaze, clearly having a conversation with just their eyes.
“So, you’re telling the story of when you took in the lost puppy?” Anton teased.
“Sí, amor.” Carmen giggled.
“What happened next?” I asked eagerly, wanting to know how that story brought us here, years later.
“Well, he gave me those puppy-dog eyes and told me how much his mother meant to him and how he just wanted to make her a beautiful dinner to thank her for being so wonderful. I fell hook, line, and sinker and gave him my number. I told him that if he had any questions while he wascooking, he could call or text me and I would help him through it.”
“I sent her a picture of the final product, and we haven’t stopped talking since.” Anton kissed Carmen on her temple.
“That’s beautiful.” I smiled. I adored a good love story; I had always been a hopeless romantic through and through. “But wait…did you know who he was when you met?”
Carmen shook her head. “Not at all. He had only recently been signed to the team and wasn’t the big star he is now. And I never followed fútbol that closely before we started dating even though my papá has been a religious Atlético Madrid fan his whole life.”
“I still don’t think he’s gotten over the fact that I play for Real and not Atlético,” Anton said with a laugh.
Carmen’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Maybe someday, amor. The fact that you buy him VIP Atlético tickets each year for Christmas does help.” She patted his cheek.
We spent the next couple of hours eating, drinking and sharing stories. The feeling of finally being able to relax and just be with new friends was a breath of fresh air. After the week we had had, needing to be “on” at all times, it was nice to not have to feel like I had to put on airs or be anyone other than myself.
