Page 85 of Cava with My Colleague

“Jade?” I press a kiss into her shoulder.

“Mmm?” Jade says sleepily

“That was worth the wait.”

I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows and Jade’s hair tickling my nose. We’re on our sides, my arms wrapped around her.

I don’t move.

She’s still sleeping, her breath even and slow. In the morning light, I can see the faint freckles across her nose, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She looks younger like this. Peaceful.

I could get used to waking up like this.

The thought should terrify me. Instead, it just feels . . . right.

Jade stirs, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looks confused—where is she?—and then her eyes focus on me and she smiles.

“Hi,” she says, her voice rough with sleep.

“Hi.”

Izan whines hello from his spot on the floor and I sigh.

“I need to take him out,” I say.

Jade’s smile shifts from sleepy to playful and she relaxes back into my bed, a teasing smile on her face. “I’ll be waiting.”

I dress quickly, and as if Izan senses my haste, he bounces on his front paws at the door. We walk the block and when we turn toward home, Izan is excited for breakfast, and I’m excited to get back to Jade.

Two weeks, I think.

29

Jade

The train to Seville leaves at noon, which gives us the morning.

We don’t talk about last night—not directly. But it’s there in the way Carlos makes me coffee without asking how I take it. It’s in the way I lean against the counter in his kitchen wearing his shirt from yesterday. In the small smile he gives me when I catch him staring.

“We should pack,” he says eventually.

“We should,” I agree.

Neither of us moves.

Finally, Izan barks, impatient for his breakfast, and the spell breaks. I sigh. “Fine. I’ll go home and pack.”

Carlos smiles, pleased I’m reluctant to go. “I’ll meet you at Atocha,” he says, giving me a long, slow kiss before I leave.

I go back to my apartment to shower and change. When I arrive at the new train terminal, Carlos is waiting for me, bag at his side.

“Ready?” he asks.

This is it—the last presentation. “Ready.”

On the train, we sit across from each other by the window. The Spanish countryside blurs past—olive groves and white villages and endless blue sky. Carlos works on his tablet, brow wrinkled in concentration.

I should be reviewing my notes or listening to that podcast—the suspect was just released on bail—but instead I’m watching him.