The Spanish Love Deception

Chapter 93

eezed gently.

Ready? he asked me without words.

I took one last deep breath, and we headed for the doors that opened to the Arrivals terminal of the

small Spanish airport.

To my parents.

To this outrageously ludicrous farce we were about to embark on.

To this … what had I called it before? Oh yeah, to this whole Spanish love deception we had planned.

Because we, Aaron and I, got this.

He had said so. And I believed him.

I just hoped, for both our sakes, that he was right.

“Papá, for the last time, we are more than okay here.” My eyes searched the small room for my fake All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

boyfriend, looking for backup.

The corner of his lips tipped up.

“Maybe if we move Abuela to your sister’s place,” Papá continued, “you two could take the big guest

room in the house. Although I am not really sure if Tío José and Tía Inma will be sleeping there. Wait,

let me call—”

“Papá,” I cut him off, reaching out to pat his arm. “It’s okay. This apartment is more than okay. You don’t

need to move us to the house. Leave Abuela alone.”

A wave of nostalgia and familiarity hit me right in the gut. It had been so long since I had come home;

all of it felt as familiar as breathing, and at the same time, it was like a memory I had not revisited in a

long time. My dad and his good heart, always so accommodating. Caring too much. Trying to make

everybody feel at home even if it meant going through the bedroom Hunger Games. I had been so

preoccupied with dreading the moment that I had forgotten they were my family. My home. And, God,

despite everything, I had missed them with all my heart.

My mom shifted from the entrance of the cramped bedroom, assessing the situation. “Ay, cariño, your

father is right. No sé …” She hesitated, looking for the words. “Este hombre es tan alto y … grande.”

Her gaze landed on Aaron, traveling from his head to his feet and back up again, while she shook her

head with a mix of awe and skepticism.

I thought I had seen that start of a smirk on Aaron’s lips inching higher, which earned him a questioning

look from me.

“I know what grande means.” That little bend of his lips was there until he turned to my mother,

squaring his expression. “I appreciate your concern, Cristina. But we will be perfectly fine, sleeping

here. Muchas gracias por todo de nuevo.”

Together with my mother’s, my jaw almost dropped to the floor for the second time today. The first time

had been earlier in the airport, where I had first learned that Aaron did speak enough Spanish to

introduce himself to my parents in my mother tongue. With barely an accent.

Quickly after, and while my jaw stayed right where it was, the grin that was reserved for a very limited

number of people came alive in Mamá’s face.

Then, I watched her release a breath, half-wonder and half-resignation. As if she was fine to accept

Aaron’s statement without putting up any kind of fight as long as he kept talking in Spanish. Which was

something she reserved for very few too.

My very lucky and very much fake boyfriend gifted her with a polite smile.

“Catalina doesn’t take that much space anyway,” Aaron suddenly said. “We will find a way to snuggle

in. Right, bollito?”

My head swirled in his direction. “Yes,” I gritted out. “We will snuggle right in.”

Promising myself he’d pay for that later, I looked at my dad in horror. Much to my dismay, I found him

grinning. My mom, on the other hand, just nodded, her eyes bouncing from Aaron to me, assessing our

difference in size and height.

Which, thankfully, wouldn’t be a problem. The convenient apartment that my parents rented during the

high season to vacationers had two bedrooms. Just like everything about the flat, the rooms were small

and functional with only what was strictly necessary. But that meant that we, Aaron and I, wouldn’t be

doing any snuggling. We were not even going to be sharing a room.

Thank the heavens.

Which reminded me, it was time for my parents to leave.

“Okay, you two. Thank you, but this is enough of a welcome,” I said, walking up to them and pushing

them lightly toward the door. “We have suitcases to unpack and a bachelor-slash-bachelorette party to

get ready for.”

“Vale, vale,” my mom said as she grabbed my dad’s arm. “You see, Javier? They want to be alone.”

Her eyebrows did a little wiggle. “Ya sabes.”

My dad muttered something unintelligible, showing that he had no interest in finding out why.

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