Our Secret Summer(80)
“Yes, thank you. It was too much so I shared it with Simone and Annika. I’m sorry you’re having trouble at the restaurant—”
He curses. “Isabel? I have to take this call.”
He rushes off to hang up, and I try not to let it bother me. There’s nothing that can be done. If Cristiano is busy, he’s busy. I should stay busy, too. Now that I’m awake, I don’t bother trying to lounge in bed. I talk to my parents and try to call Lita as well, but she doesn’t answer, so I go for a run. I get coffee and breakfast in the cafetería, and when Thalia asks if I want to surf, I excitedly agree. Friday winds into Saturday, and though Cristiano has texted me updates and sent a car for me and Simone, I’m still antsy on the way to Sabor a Sol’s grand opening.
“Your leg is going wild,” she points out. “What’s wrong?”
I hadn’t noticed how much I was bouncing my foot. I take a deep breath and smooth my hands down my minidress. The pink silk wraps softly around my neck, leaving a dramatic open back. Winnie loved this dress and the bright heels that tie around my ankles.
“You don’t need to worry, you look fab. Also, since when are you so posh?”
She’s referring to my jewelry. For the first time since I arrived on Ibiza, I had a good excuse to pull out a few of my De Vere staples, layering our iconic heart bracelet with a thin gold cuff. I twist Winnie’s ring around my finger and shrug.
The truth is on the tip of my tongue. Now would be as good a time as any to tell Simone who I really am. I doubt she’ll care, but our driver pulls up outside the restaurant and the moment is hijacked by the chaos awaiting us.
Simone gapes out her window. “Sheesh, Cristiano does nothing by half measures. Look at this.”
Our driver opens her door and we slip out, two girls among hundreds. The sidewalk outside the restaurant is packed with people and photographers clustered together in front of a branded step-and-repeat. I rise onto my tiptoes, trying to spot Cristiano or Juan Carlos, but then Simone nearly gets bowled over by a pushy woman trying to edge her way closer to the entrance.
“No need to step on my foot!” Simone calls after her. “I’m sure there’ll be enough food for all of us!”
I smile and take her hand so we don’t get separated in the crowd.
“Maybe let’s try this way?” I suggest, carefully edging closer to the step-and-repeat.
“Did Cristiano tell you where to go?” Simone asks.
The knot in my stomach tightens as I shake my head. I didn’t think to ask, either. I should have realized it was going to be crazy.
“Right. Then let’s just join the masses and see where we end up.”
There’s no other option. I’m half tempted to go up to one of the security guards and explain the situation, but what would I say? I’m not Cristiano’s girlfriend, I’m his friend, and judging by this turnout, he has a lot of friends vying to get into Sabor a Sol.
The crowd only continues to grow, and I hate the feeling of being surrounded by people on all sides. A security guard shouts at someone for pushing and everyone calms down a little, but even then, I’m close to calling it when another ten minutes pass and we haven’t made much progress.
“Line’s not moving at all,” someone notes beside me.
I recognize the American accent right away and, curious, look up to see a tall guy reposition the glasses on his nose. He’s handsome, blond, tan, and wearing slacks, a dress shirt, and a press badge. With his height, he has the advantage over the crowd.
“Can you see why?” I ask.
“Oh.” He laughs. “Him.”
I try to angle my body to see what he’s referring to, but it’s hard with so many people densely packed in front of me. Then when someone shifts, there’s suddenly a window in the crowd, and Cristiano comes into view on the step-and-repeat, standing alone. My heart leaps and then starts to race. He’s so handsome in his fitted black suit and pocket square. He’s skipped a tie and chosen to leave the top button of his white shirt undone. It’s an effortless style that he pulls off too well, especially with his hair freshly trimmed and his jaw cleanly shaven.
He only poses in front of the photographers for a moment before he steps to the side as if he’s eager to get off the carpet, but then Juan Carlos and a few of his friends I recognize from Aura move to join him. Juan Carlos throws his arm around his shoulders and Cristiano smiles genuinely for the first time. Their friends gather close. Daniella slips in on Cristiano’s other side, wearing a beautiful black dress and sky-high heels. She beams with pride and turns her body into Cristiano’s so she can drop her hand on his chest. The touch hurts to watch. I feel suddenly ridiculous standing here in this crowd watching them like a voyeur.
A woman nearby wonders aloud about Daniella, complimenting her outfit.
Simone squeezes my hand even though I haven’t let on that I’m in any way bothered by what I’m seeing. I stand stock-still as the photographers snap photos and the group disbands, but not before Daniella prods Cristiano to stay on the carpet, smiling up at him so they can get one more photo of just the two of them.
She laughs and teases him and he smiles.
My stomach feels queasy.
I step back, but Simone holds firm. “No. Look, the crowd is moving now.”
I don’t want to be here. I think of Annika watching Ethan kiss another girl. I don’t want to do this.