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‘I want to. I enjoy looking after you.’
‘I should have eloped with you instead.’ The words tumbled out before I’d realised what I was saying. His fingers stilled in my hair as there was nothing but the gentle slosh of water around us.
‘You wouldn’t want me for keeps, Esther. I’m a fuckup.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
‘I don’t have a family to offer, no in-laws, no siblings. Nothing except a half paid off house and a knack for making unwilling people talk. I’m no catch.’ His fingers worked down to my neck, rubbing against the knots I’d gathered there.
‘You are sweet and caring and just need to be loved. We all need to be loved. Your worth can’t be measured by whom you bring to the table, but by the person you are. You are enough, just as you are.’
Alec audibly swallowed behind me, and the need for levity weighed on the conversation.
‘Plus, you fuck like an absolute beast. That trumps in-laws any day.’
His throaty chuckle soothed me as he wrapped his arms around me, idly running his fingers over my chest as I tipped my head back against his shoulder.
‘You’re something else, Esther.’
‘In a good way, I hope?’ I teased.
‘In the best way.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
ALEC
The library we’d found had a computer. A frustratingly slow, entirely in Spanish computer. Eventually, I logged into my bank account to get my card details and then manoeuvred around a site for flights. There was one that left for Barcelona the following morning. I could use the last of my cash to get us bus tickets and have us home by suppertime. There were multiple flights with seats available for each day, if I was honest. Glancing over at Esther, where she was browsing a small section of English books, flipping between them and smiling to herself, I chose one three days out.
I had to take her home. But selfishly, I wanted more time with her first. As soon as we were home, she’d be off limits. The thought of Harold claiming her made me want to vomit. She wasn’t the spoiled mafia princess I’d believed her to be at all. She was sweet, and sassy and passionate, and no nonsense. And I wanted to keep her with every fibre of my being. If only I’d realised before she knew she had to return, before her sister had to fill her spot, then we could have disappeared together, spent our days wrapped up in one another and forget that our world back in Scotland ever existed.
Three days.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing short of forever would be.
I waded through more sites, trying to find somewhere that I could purchase a phone in the town using my details online. No luck.
Esther had tucked herself in a chair, reading a book as she twirled a dark strand of hair around her finger. Adorable.
Pretending to keep battling the internet, I stayed quiet about being finished and spent the next hour basking in her. Soaking up every moment from my spot across the room. Like an absolute creep. I’d spent months watching her from afar, and never dreaming she’d be mine, even if only for a few days.
She flicked from page to page, her cheeks reddening every now and again. Eventually, she looked up and blushed furiously.
‘You’re just flicking through and reading the dirty bits, aren’t you?’
She stammered and quickly shut the book. Her face was beetroot as I laughed. ‘Don’t worry, baby. I don’t mind you doing a little research.’
‘Research?’ she said.
‘For later.’ I smirked as she squirmed in her seat.
* * *
We walked through the town,spending the afternoon looking every bit like a pair of tourists. At some point, she’d slipped her hand into mine to drag me toward a shop window. My heart had skipped about twenty beats, leaving me breathless as I looked down at our entangled fingers. The gentle intimacy shook me far more than any of the sexual connections we’d had. When she’d noticed me staring at our hands, she’d blushed and tried to pull her fingers away. I took them right back, gripping her hand in my own and leading us down the street, enjoying every second of her touch.
For the rest of the lazy afternoon, I let myself imagine we were the sweet, love struck tourists the rest of the world could perceive us as instead of the perverse situation we actually found ourselves in.
Using the last of our money, other than the bus fare I’d set aside, we shared a large portion of Patatas Bravas at a tiny café as the street flowed with people around us. Esther moaned as she bit into one of the crisp potato bites, catching a drop of the spicy tomato sauce that threatened to fall from her fork.
