Our Secret Summer(51)
“Really? Are they here? On Ibiza?”
He sighs and I know he’s close to pulling the plug on this conversation. It must not be easy for him to talk about his family. “No, and it’s a relief to be away from them. My mom is very old-school, conservative, traditional, religious. Now that she’s no longer with my dad, she lives with her friends, cloistered away in a small village near Barcelona. She goes to Mass twice a day and doesn’t even keep a cell phone. She doesn’t approve of this lifestyle, wishes I would settle down and give her grandchildren. Montones y montones.” He sighs at the thought. “My dad is the exact opposite, chasing the next failing venture, out every night with a new woman.”
I drop my hand against his forearm and squeeze. “I’m sorry. That sounds… complicated. I don’t blame you for creating a life for yourself separate from them.”
His dark eyes settle on me, and I become hyperaware of how close we’re standing and the fact that my hand is still draped on his forearm. I release it quickly.
“It’s not so bad. I still see them every now and then, and I’m close to Juan Carlos. He’s my cousin, but in many ways we’re like brothers. Are you close with your parents?”
“Yes, very. My mom and I don’t always see eye to eye. She’s old-school, too, maybe the American WASP version of your mother.” I smile. “She can be a little judgmental, but it’s out of love. My dad is easygoing, though, the peacemaker. He and I love to surf together.”
“And it’s just you? No siblings?”
This question always creates a crossroads for me. I can offer a simple answer—“Yes, it’s just me”—or I can tell him the truth. I very rarely choose the second option. It’s not because I want to brush aside Winnie’s existence altogether but because there’s no way to share her story without somehow altering the mood, shifting things and settling a gloomy cloud over an entire conversation.
My lips part. I’m about to make this easy on the both of us, and then instead, I say, “I had a sister. Actually… she’s the reason I’m here for the summer.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cristiano
I’m staring out at the traffic in front of me, concentrating on the road. La carretera de Sant Antoni hasn’t been this crowded all summer, but now that it’s early June, we’ve officially entered high season and the tourists are out in full force. I won’t have a slow night at any of my clubs or restaurants from now until the end of September.
“You’re being quiet,” Juan Carlos notes.
I hmm to let him know I’ve heard him but have nothing to say on the matter.
“Something on your mind?”
I don’t answer.
“You haven’t said much since you and Elle—”
I swerve and slam to a stop on the side of the road, eliciting a cacophony of honks behind me.
“Get out.”
Juan Carlos laughs. “Are you crazy?”
“If you keep asking questions, I’ll make you walk home.”
He holds up his hands. “Got it, cabrón. I’ll shut up.”
I pull back out into traffic more annoyed than I was a few minutes ago.
My cousin—the insufferable ass that he is—only makes it two more streets before he speaks up again. “Going to Aura tonight?”
I flip on my blinker, and Juan Carlos just cracks up. “Jesus, man. Forget I asked.”
No, I’m not going to Aura tonight. I’m going home to take a cold shower, then a cold bath, then a fucking cold plunge. After, I’m going to check on one of my restaurants or clubs. I don’t even care which one, as long as it isn’t Aura. I can’t see Isabel again today. I can’t. She’s burrowed so deep inside me at this point I’m scared shitless.
I have an image of her locked in my head, though not the one from when she was sunbathing on the lounger, not the moment she had her legs spread open on my lap. It was when we were eating lunch on our way back to the dock. She was more sun-kissed than ever, all her midnight-black hair piled in an updo to combat the wind. She’d slipped her cover-up back on and she was laughing with Annika and Simone, her expression so guileless, so achingly sweet, I wanted to reach across the space separating us and claim her with a kiss.
I had no intention of touching her today on my yacht, no plan to seduce her in that pool, but the thought almost makes me laugh, because I wasn’t the seducer. No, that was all Isabel, and fuck… she was the hottest little thing. Watching her overcome her shyness, slip through the water toward me, climb onto my lap. Even now, her turquoise bikini tortures me. I’m so on edge.
I didn’t want to push things too far with her. After she leapt away from me in the pool, she looked startled by what we’d done, and I immediately felt like a jerk. Should I have resisted a little more? Should I not have touched her?
It’s just…
Not as simple as it should be.
She is not simple.
I didn’t know about Winnie. Caterina De Vere never told me about Isabel’s sister. As an only child, I can’t begin to comprehend Isabel’s grief over losing someone that significant—a sister and best friend. Losing Dolores was extremely hard; she was a mother to me, but Dolores was in her seventies and had experienced all the joys and heartaches life had to offer.