Carlos shrugged helplessly. “I just… fuck, I do not know, Ale. Why can’t I have it easy like you with that accountant?”
“His name is Callum, and it was not that easy.” Then she cocked her head thoughtfully. “Do you want me and Ilias to intervene?”
The pure panic painted on his face told her it was a terrible idea.
“Absolutely not. You mind your own business.”
“It is because of me that Sofia and Ilias are married. You should give me more credit.”
“No, Ale. Fucking no,” he declared as they reached the car.
Carlos drove them in silence toward Ribeira das Ilhas, where the competition was being held. The cliffs and the endless Atlantic stretched beside the road, waves rolling in with the kind of swell that made Alejandra’s chest ache.
As soon as they arrived, she headed for Callum’s stand, leaving Carlos sulking in his own emotional disaster.
If he did not want to be helped, then let him be.
Whenever she had spare time, or whenever she felt she was about to panic, it had become a habit during those days to go and check how Callum was doing. It was her excuse to escape questions about her injury and her future comeback, or an attempt to drown out the records her friends were beating while she sat on the sidelines.
She knew it sounded childish, and yet somehow her competitive mind could not handle being stuck with that sling, trapped in that strange impasse of doing absolutely nothing.
And so, pestering Callum had become her escape.
And she was very glad Sofia had invited him there.
As she walked from the parking lot toward Lamina’s stand, one bag full of food hooked on her arm and a small tray balancing two coffees—she truly hoped a typical café con leche would be his thing—she spotted him. And a woman leaning against the counter. Clearly flirting. Pushing her breasts forward and batting her lashes like she was in the middle of a soap opera. Even that stranger could win a flirt battle against her brother.
Callum, however, stood straight. Not leaning in. Definitely not giving her the same look he gave Alejandra.
When his eyes caught hers, his entire face lit up.
The woman turned to see who he was smiling at, and instantly went full Medusa glare.
“My love,” Callum said, his voice extra loud, extra Welsh, and extra sexy as he sent her a pointed look. “You are finally here.”
She blinked.
Thatmy lovewith the accent?
Yes. That definitely did something to her.
Recomposing herself, she walked up, smile in place.
“Hello, cariño. I brought you coffee and food.”
“Giorgia, this is my girlfriend, Alejandra. The one I have been talking about,” Callum said, exiting the booth to help her with the coffee tray.
He pulled her into a careful bear hug, murmuring near her ear, “Please help me out here.”
Oh. So it was like that.
She nodded once, then leaned in and kissed his cheek—the sluttiest cheek kiss in history, lips brushing so close to the corner that it almost was not one at all.
The tension between them had been building for days, every conversation crackling with what neither of them was saying out loud.
“Hi, I am Alejandra. Nice to meet you,” she said, extending her good hand.
The woman looked stricken.
