We settle at a small table facing the glass wall.
“How are the preparations for Alicia’s birthday?” I ask once Cecilia takes her second bite of the tart.
I need something to focus on, something that doesn’t make me jealous of a damn pastry.
Her shoulders deflate a little.
“They’re not,” she says. “She keeps saying she doesn’t want a party, and I think I just have to accept it.” Cecilia looks out the window, thoughtful. “I just don’t want her to look back one day and regret not celebrating the date.”
When she turns back to me, there’s a nostalgic softness in her expression.
“Last year around this time, we’d already chosen the entire color palette for the table décor and made a huge list of her favorite sweets and guests.”
I cover her hand with mine, brushing my thumb over her skin.
“Maybe it’s just a phase,” I say. “Even without a party, I’m sure you’ll make the day special for her.”
Cecilia nods. “Yes. I already bought one of the gifts she really wanted, and I’m trying to figure out how to make sure she enjoys the day.”
Before I can say anything else, we’re interrupted.
“Cecily Sterling, what a true delight to find you here!” an overly enthusiastic feminine voice rings out.
Cecilia closes her eyes and lets out a groan.
I pull my hand back from hers and turn around, coming face-to-face with a brunette holding hands with a little girl who looks like a younger version of her.
The woman has a remarkable presence. Thick hair framing her face, her features both delicate and striking. Full lips. Eyes that shift effortlessly between charm and calculation.
“Felicity. It’s good to see you too,” Cecilia says before finally standing to greet her friend with a hug.
I rise as well, but stay where I am, observing.
“Aurora saw her favorite aunt through the window and simply had to say hi.”
Cecilia wraps her arms around the little girl—she must be around seven—and holds her close for a moment.
When my eyes shift back to Felicity, I recognize her name as the friend Cecilia has mentioned a few times. I think about extending a hand to greet her, but her attention is already on Cecilia, who straightens again.
“And who’s this fine man—I mean, this nicefriendyou’re having coffee with?” she asks, trying to sound neutral.
Cecilia shoots her a warning look.
“Felicity, this is my friend Alexander Santoro. Alexander, this is Felicity Zaragoza.”
I offer my hand, and when she shakes it, the firmness of her grip catches me off guard.
“It’s good to finally put a face to the name,” I say.
That surprises her.
“Oh? So someone’s been talking about me,” she replies, a spark of interest in her tone. “How... interesting.”
She doesn’t say the rest, but it’s obvious: the same can’t be said about me. Cecilia never mentioned me. There wasn’t even a sign of recognition when she heard my name.
“Would you like to sit with us?” Cecilia offers, a bit awkwardly.
Felicity waves her off. “Of course not. We won’t interrupt anymore. Aurora just wanted to say hi.”
