Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Niko’s still battling his cold, pobrecito, but Lucia had her big dance recital on Saturday.”
She shows me the photos of Lucia on her phone. Her oldest grandchild poses for the camera, her dark hair neatly twisted into a ballerina bun. She’s wearing a leotard and tutu covered with rhinestones, the same color turquoise as Isabel’s bikini. It makes me wonder what Isabel looked like as a little girl, those big green eyes and chubby cheeks likely a cute combo.
“Preciosa,” I tell her.
She beams with pride as she puts down her phone, nodding toward the iPad. She doesn’t want to keep me too long—she of all people knows how busy I am. We start running through my schedule, and though normally seeing everything packed together would give me a sense of accomplishment, I can’t help but internally groan at the workload. The meetings I pushed off yesterday got squeezed into today and Tuesday. This afternoon I have back-to-back calls for three hours.
Before, it wouldn’t have bothered me. Now, I wonder how I’ll find time to see Isabel.
“Would you like to confirm your table at the NSPCC Midsummer Ball?” Carmen asks, checking off items from a long list on her desk.
“When is it again?”
“Sunday, the sixteenth. I can book your flight and accommodation, but it’ll be a tight squeeze—”
“Purchase the table but donate the seats. I worry it’s too close to Sabor a Sol’s opening on the fifteenth.”
The event is for a great cause, but I can’t leave Ibiza that weekend. Shit could hit the fan at any moment. I’m already standing when I ask if that’s all she has for me.
She nods. “You should have ten minutes to get to the construction walk-through at Sabor a Sol. I have confirmation that the design team is already on-site.”
And so my day continues. Endlessly, agonizingly long. There’s not a moment that my phone isn’t blowing up with texts or emails. It always gets like this in the final weeks before a grand opening and usually I thrive in the chaos.
Today, though, I’ve struggled to keep my head in the game. I should not be sitting outside Aura at 2:05 AM waiting for Isabel to leave. I should have gone home after my last meeting, made myself dinner, and fallen face-first into my bed. I have an early start tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. And yet, here I am, watching the side door even though I know Ramón will let me know when she’s leaving the building.
The door opens and she emerges at the same time my phone buzzes.
It’s a cool summer night. Isabel is wearing a short white dress with straps that tie into bows on both shoulders. Her inky-black hair is long and straight. Antonio sees her and steps up to attention, but Isabel’s already caught sight of me as I get out of my car. She smiles coyly and juts her chin in my direction as she tells him, “You’re off the hook for tonight. I think I have a ride.”
Antonio looks at me and I nod, but nothing more. I don’t have the energy to look away from Isabel. She’s a sight for sore eyes after a long day. Like usual, she wiped her heavy makeup off before she came out here, but she didn’t get it all. The dark mascara makes her eyes so green they pack a punch. I take her bag and lead her to my car, but I’m careful not to touch her. I know it’d be too hard to pull my hand away.
I glance back to the side door, looking for the rest of her ragtag team. “Where are Annika and Simone?”
She sighs solemnly. “Off today.”
“But not you?”
“Not me.”
“Let me see.” I point to her tattoo, and she holds it out for me. “It looks good.”
She smiles. “No worse for wear after yesterday.”
God, how could that have only been yesterday?
I open her door, and once she’s settled, I round the front of the vehicle.
“You already picked up dinner?” she asks, looking at the bag at her feet.
“I had the chef at my new restaurant package up a few things for you.”
“Are you kidding?” She leans over and starts pulling out containers. “Cristiano, this will feed me for a week.” She tugs out a big Styrofoam container filled with arroz brut and laughs at the weight of it. “Make that two weeks.”
“Share with Simone and Annika. I can always get more.”
She grabs the silverware wrapped up in the bottom of the bag and wags them back and forth. “Do you mind? I could wait until I get home. It’s just around the corner…”
“Eat,” I insist, almost sternly.
She opens the container and sets it on the center console. “By the way, it’s not that I don’t eat. Annika makes us all smoothies right before we go in for our shifts, but being on my feet all night and running around just—OH MY GOD. Cristiano.” She talks with her mouth full, like she’s too impatient to finish swallowing before she tells me, “This is so good.”