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“You're joking.”
“Not even a little bit.”
I sighed, my head sinking into the mattress. “This is so dumb.”
He leaned down to kiss me. “9 p.m. Wear the green slip. You and I have another score to settle.”
“I can just use my own hands, you know.”
But he was already pushing himself off the bed. I fumed silently as I watched him slip into a pair of jeans and a fresh white shirt. He was, without an iota of doubt, the most infuriating man in existence.
“Breakfast is ready when you are,” he said cheerfully on his way out.
He shot down the pillow I hurled at his idiot head and winked at me before shutting the door.
I hated him.
So, so, so much.
Then why are you smiling?
…
Shut up.
27
I wasn'tproud of my decision to stay. Nor could I justify it.
All I knew was that by the time I managed to put on a sweater and jeans, the idea of going to the airport was even more unappealing than it had been yesterday. I kept staring at my bags, trying to convince myself to pick them up and leave. But I couldn't do it.
No, that wasn't true. Icoulddo it, I just didn't want to.
What I wantedto do was join Adrien’s family for breakfast.
I was halfway down the stairs when I first heard the muffled laughter and teasing happening in the kitchen, and I found myself pausing just to listen. I’d always loved the idea of a big, loud, and lively family. My mom left when I was two, Dad worked night shifts for the majority of my childhood—right up until he got the gig at Abehill when I was fifteen—and our abuela was a big fan of naps.
But on Sundays when Dad was home and we had our big family dinners, the house felt alive. Like it was finally breathing after six long days of stillness. There was laughter and mayhem as Alba and I excitedly fought to tell our father about everything that had happened over the last week. We’d be chided by our abuela for bouncing in our seats, letting our food go cold, and signing over each other. All the while Dad encouraged our restless shenanigans, keeping us riled up and squealing. He’d make us laugh, feel heard, appreciated, and loved.
I used to think to myself,this is what I want when I grow up.I want it to be like this every night.
I loved it. I missed it. And I really missed them.
I swallowed the small lump forming in the back of my throat, blinked the memories from my mind, and trotted into the kitchen.
Adrien was the first to spot me. His eyebrows rose slowly as the corner of his mouth curved into the cockiest smirk I’d ever seen. He stood a little straighter, his chest puffing victoriously as he crossed his arms.
I did a poor job of concealing my smile as I glared at him.
“There she is,” Julie said, her voice light and teasing.
“Good morning,” I said.
“You must beexhausted,” Alice chimed in. She was in the middle of decorating her smoothie bowl with coconut shavings and blueberries.
Um... “What?”
“They heard us last night,” Adrien claimed, leaning a casual shoulder against the fridge. “Apparently the west wing isn’t as secluded as we were led to believe.”
