Our Secret Summer(26)

“Oh my god, your poor sister.”

“Annika…”

Her arms only tighten around me. “Simone said you two were really close. I just know she was the best because you’re the best.”

“Annika—”

“Life can be so unfair. One day, everyone you love is alive and well. Then the next—poof, they’re gone. My grandmother went just like that. At ninety-four, she had a heart attack while she was eating r?dgr?d med fl?de.”

“What?”

“It’s like a berry pudding. Popular in Denmark.”

“Gotcha.”

“And I had this gerbil once when I was a kid that accidentally managed to get outside, and a bird swooped down and ate him. When I close my eyes, I can still see his little feet dangling out of the bird’s mouth.”

“All right.” I pat her hand and slowly extricate myself from her grasp. “Thank you. That’s… really helpful.”

My sarcasm goes completely unnoticed.

“I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

I smile tightly.

“Or if you just want a hug.”

She gives me another one now as if to prove her point. Now I know how Simone felt earlier when I tried to hug her.

“Okay.” I do a little shimmy step backward and point behind me. “I should get to work.”

“You are so brave!” she shouts after me.

Aura’s summer kickoff party is just as next-level as everyone promised it would be. Guests had to purchase tickets for the event, and I’ve heard whispers of what they cost. It’s enough that every person in here feels entitled to everything within reach. The drinks are flowing, food is getting passed by the waitstaff, and I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

I’m leaning down to better hear a group of women put in their drink orders when I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck, and I know Cristiano is here even before I turn around to confirm it. Oh, look at that… he’s parting the crowd like Moses. His arrival has caused a barely contained commotion as people clamber to get out of his way just as much as they rush toward him. At his sides, there’s an entourage of adoring fans… fine, maybe they’re his friends. The girls are dressed as scantily as I am. One hurries to keep in stride with Cristiano, but his attention is on the man to his right. The two of them are grinning about something, and before Cristiano can see that I’m staring, I whip back around and get busy finishing this drink order.

It’s annoying that he’s walking through my section. He doesn’t have to. He could have curved around the side of the club or, I don’t know, bodysurfed over the crowd like the god he is.

“Do you like the frozen sangría?” one of the girls asks as she notices another server walk by with a pitcher of the frothy pink cocktail.

“Love it. A little sweet, a little tart.”

I don’t actually know if it’s good. I’ve never had it, but Cristiano is getting closer and I want to hurry and get this order done so I can scurry off to the computers.

“Or wait—” The girl turns to her friends. “Should we stick with rosé?”

I fidget on my heels, feeling my heart start to race. Cristiano draws closer as the girls keep mulling over their options. I’m about to start sweating.

“Sorry,” one of them apologizes in an attempt to make up for her friends’ indecision.

I calm my nerves by assuring myself that in all likelihood, even if Cristiano sees me, he’ll completely ignore me. It’s not like he’s stopping to talk to any of the other servers. And yet, when I look up and our eyes lock, his dark gaze narrows playfully with intent.

My stomach swoops dangerously as I watch him say something to the group and then break off from them. Once I realize he’s heading directly toward me, panic spears through me and I swivel back around toward the table.

“Why don’t I start you guys off with a pitcher of the frozen sangría?”

Cristiano’s warm hand touches my lower back and my eyes flutter closed for an instant before I realize it, internally berate myself, and whirl around to offer him a small, professional smile.

“Just a minute. I’m almost done here.”

“Oh my god.” One of the girls perks up, seeing Cristiano behind me. “You’re the owner, aren’t you?”

They recognize him? I stifle a groan.

Cristiano offers the group a small wave. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Tonight he’s wearing all black. The color belongs to him. No one wears it like he does.

“Actually…” The prettiest of the bunch leans forward to better offer a tempting view down her dress. “We’re having trouble with our drink orders. Any suggestions?”

The last word rolls off her tongue with enough innuendo to make me blush.

“I’ve told them the frozen sangría is really good,” I tell him, trying to prove I’ve at least done my part in helping them order.

Cristiano’s gaze slides to me like a tantalizing caress, and my chest tightens. “I’d trust Isabel’s suggestions.”

The girl visibly deflates and sits back in her seat. “Oh, all right. Let’s start with a pitcher.”

I nod and spin around, right smack dab into Cristiano.