“Come on, Elijah. I’ve been working hard at this. Ana’s been teaching me Spanish, and I’ve been practicing for two weeks straight.”
He arches a brow, still grinning. “Is that so? And since when did you start listening to Ana?”
“Since she’s more fluent in Spanish than I am.” I shoot back.
“Oh, no argument there,” Elijah chuckles, his smile growing wider by the second.
I narrow my eyes. That laugh is too smug. I’m starting to think I just got played by a teenager.
“What?” I whine.
Elijah snorts. “You just said you don’t like the food. Very boldly, I might add.”
I blink at him, dread climbing up my spine. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He spreads his hands, all faux innocence. He’s enjoying this far too much.
I run a hand through my hair, groaning. “Ana said that meant ‘I like the food.’”
“That’smegusta la comida,” he corrects, slow and smug, like he’s the adult in the room.
I point a finger at him. “So, she set me up?”
Elijah shrugs, failing miserably to hide another laugh. “Maybe she thought you needed some humility.”
“Oh, I have humility,” I mutter. “More than I want, actually.”
He laughs again, louder this time, and despite myself, I feel a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“Great.” I sigh.
“Relax. My parents will love you. This will just… give them something to tease you about for the next five years.”
“Perfect,” I deadpan. “Exactly what I hoped for.”
He nudges my shoulder. “Hey. At least your accent was good.”
I glance at him, suspicious. “Was it?”
“No,” he says instantly, and doubles over laughing again.
I toss my arms up. “I officially resign from Spanish. Forever. Please inform Ana.”
“Not a chance.” Elijah grins. “She’s gonna love this.”
I flop onto the sofa with a groan, hip bumping his thigh and sending a splash of bourbon over the rim of his glass.
He snorts, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at the bourbon soaking into his pants.
Next week, we’re flying to Puerto Rico to visit his parents, and honestly, I’m looking forward to the time away. A change ofscenery, some sun, and finally meeting his family—it all feels like a step forward.
Of course, nothing in my life is ever simple. I’m under contract for a photoshoot with an up-and-coming clothing designer on the same day we’re set to leave. So I’ll be joining him a day later—fashionably behind schedule and already stressed about it.
Once Elijah finishes fussing with the stain, I swing my legs over his lap and lean my head back against the cushion. But my body doesn’t relax. Because my mind is still stuck onthem. Gabriel and Noah.
“I still can’t believe Gabriel is dating Noah,” I say, letting out a long, slow sigh.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it.
