The Spanish Love Deception: A Novel

The moment my eyes popped open to the glorious darkness that only a country where blinds were religiously installed could provide, I knew I wasn’t in my bed.

For one, I was used to waking up to bright beams of sunlight flooding my studio apartment. Then, there was the surface beneath me. It felt different. Softer and bouncier than the one my body was accustomed to. Same went for the pillow where my head rested—too flat and low.

But what really screamed at me that this wasn’t my bed—that I wasn’t in my apartment in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn—was the dead weight currently resting on my waist. It was heavy and warm and felt a lot like an oversize limb that surely couldn’t belong to me.

The drumming occurring in almost every corner of my head was probably not helping me get any clarity on what was responsible for that vise around my body. Or why I wasn’t in the comfort of my room, rolling in a mattress that had made it worth punching a hole in my bank account.

Blinking a few times as I brushed some of the sleepy locks of hair off my face, my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

My gaze searched for whatever was behind the weight on my midsection.

An arm. Just how I had suspected. It was dusted with dark hair and corded with muscle. So, it wasn’t mine. My eyes followed that muscular and long limb all the way up until reaching the very masculine shoulder it was attached to. A shoulder that led to a strong neck that ended in a head that—

Mierda.

The owner of all those body parts I had been studying in the darkness shifted. I froze. That robust and heavy arm that was latched to my waist moved slightly, his hand partially slipping beneath my shirt. All five fingers splayed on my skin.

My breath got stuck somewhere between my throat and mouth.

Do not fucking move, Catalina, I ordered myself.

But it was hard when those fingers felt so hot against my skin, causing my whole body to tingle.

Only a few inches separated me from Aaron.

Aaron.

Last night.

A series of F-bombs were dropped, blasting across my mind as blurry images flashed through my head.

No, no, no, no.

Those fingers brushed my skin again, and a deep and throaty noise left the man sleeping beside me.

A dream. All those images had to have been a dream because we couldn’t have almost kissed. That was completely crazy. That was—

At the fastest pace known to man, all the events from last night solidified. They tumbled down my memory, flashing behind my eyes and making me recall every last one of them. Each and every one of those images, snippets—memories—replayed in my mind in painfully slow motion.

All the sidra. Aaron’s fabricated story about how we had started dating. The way his eyes had been locked on me all through the night. Us dancing in the middle of a dark club with sticky floors, lost among the sea of bodies. My freak-out. Aaron sitting with me on the sidewalk, taking care of me, telling me about himself. Opening up and laying out a piece of himself for me. Him pressing me against the wardrobe. My body coming alive—being lit on fire—with all those featherlight brushes of his lips and fingers. Lina. Aaron had called me Lina. Right before he brushed his lips over mine.

We had almost kissed.

No. I had almost begged Aaron to kiss me, and I would have done more than just that.

“When I finally kiss you, there won’t be any doubt in your mind that it is real,” he had said that before going to check if what had burst our bubble of madness was Charo.

And I had lain on the bed and passed out immediately.

Fuck, fuck. Mierda, joder.

I needed to get out of this bed. I needed time to think, to process. Away from Aaron. Before I did something stupid. Or reckless. Something like almost kissing him.

A low groan climbed up my throat, and I had no other choice but to muffle it with my hand. The sudden motion made the mattress bounce under me.

Shit.

Aaron stretched beside me.

Don’t wake up, please. Please, universe. God. Anyone. I just need a couple of minutes to gather myself before I have to face him.

I felt Aaron’s body settle back, his breathing remaining deep and constant.

Returning my hand back to my side—very fucking slowly—I thanked the universe for listening to me this one time and promised I’d make up for it. I’d go to church with Abuela next time I came home, I swore.

I was being a complete chicken, but I wanted a few minutes to myself. Just so I could appease everything that kept darting through my mind. To make peace with it and move on like nothing had ever happened. Also, to hunt down a painkiller and kill the throbbing in my head. Coffee would be good too.

And the first step was getting the hell out of this bed—from under the arm I had desperately been gripping for dear life only a few hours ago—as fast and as quietly as I possibly could before Aaron’s eyes opened and found me losing my shit.

Lifting Aaron’s heavy limb as delicately and slowly as I could, I rolled to the side, right to the edge of the bed, and then I deposited his muscular body part back on the comforter. Aaron moved, turning on his back and lifting that arm that had been on top of me so it rested behind his head.

That position caused his biceps to flex and look all big and delectable and—

Jesus Christ, Catalina.

Pulling my eyes off the man on the bed, I moved through the room on my tiptoes. I made my way out and closed the door behind me. My head fell on the wooden surface, and my eyes closed.

“Vaya, vaya. Mira quién ha amanecido,” a high-pitched voice welcomed me from outside the kitchen. “Buenos días, prima.”

The blood in my body froze.

I couldn’t catch a freaking break.

My lips curled with a forced smile. “Hola, Charo. Buenos días,” I greeted her, straightening my back and trying to look the furthest from someone who had just snuck out of a room.

I walked into the kitchen, keeping my steps breezy and casual.

Passing my cousin as she stood rooted to the white tiles, studying my every move, I proceeded to open cabinets and drawers, looking for the coffee beans so I could at least caffeinate my brain before Charo started the questioning. Or Aaron woke up and I had to face him.

“He dejado una cafetera preparada,” Charo chimed behind me. She had prepared coffee for me. That could only mean one thing: she was up to something. “Está ahí, mujer. En la encimera.” Coffee was on the countertop.

With my back still to her, I muttered my thanks and proceeded to pour some black goodness in a mug.

Much to the displeasure of my hungover head—but not any surprise—she continued with her monologue before I could even take the first sip.

“Hay suficiente para ti y para tu novio.” There was enough coffee for me and my boyfriend, she told me. “Imagino que no tardará en despertarse ¿no? Oye si quieres ir a llamarle para que no se enfríe el café …” Charo continued.

If she was trying to get me to go fetch Aaron so the coffee she had prepared wouldn’t get cold, she had another thing coming. The coffee would spontaneously turn into ice cubes before I willingly went back inside that room.

“Menuda sensación ha causado en la familia. Tu madre no podía parar de …” And then she proceeded to tell me about when and how and what had been said about my—fake—boyfriend, Aaron, in the mere twenty-four hours he’d been in the country.

Which had been a lot, considering the short amount of time.

That was exactly why having Charo sharing accommodations with us was so dangerous. She had no social filters of any kind and no regard for privacy. I was genuinely shocked she wasn’t plundering herself into our room and taking my fake boyfriend out of bed, so she could continue her perusal.

Charo’s chatter kept filling the kitchen as I nodded my head absently. “Y justo como le dije a tu madre, llegará un día en el que Lina tendrá que superar lo de Daniel.” Just how I told your mom, one day, Lina will have to get over Daniel. “Sino se va a quedar para vestir santos y …”

Jesus, my cousin had just used that Spanish expression I hated so much. The one I had heard directed at me more than once, always muttered or whispered, or just like she had done, loud and clear. Se va a quedar para vestir santos. Which literally translated to something about dressing saints and meant that I’d stay single and dedicate my life to God for the rest of my life.

Feeling completely defenseless, standing all alone with my cousin, I couldn’t decide if sleepy Aaron was a blessing or a curse anymore. Yesterday, when he had been with me, facing Charo, my sister, Daniel, and everybody else, it had been unexpectedly easier than doing that now.

I realized now that as much as I had brought him to Spain with that particular purpose, I had never truly expected that it would work. Or that we’d become a team. That he’d instill strength in me—even if I’d use it to lie to my family—or that he’d make me feel like I wasn’t alone in this.

And the scariest, most terrifying part was that all that was starting to bleed through the lines that defined our deal. In a little over a day.

The proof was last night. We had almost kissed. We had done more than just that. More than practicing or pretending.

Crazy. It was crazy, but it was also true. I was honest enough to admit that to myself.

But that didn’t mean I was brave enough to acknowledge it out loud. I was still the coward who had walk-of-shamed her way out of that room like her ass was on fire before I was forced to have a conversation.

And I’d do that again.

Aaron would soon become my boss, and that would change everything. Having him here—in Spain, in my home country, attending my sister’s wedding as my fake date—was already dangerous. It was reason enough for me to shake in my boots at the prospect of someone at work finding out. It didn’t have anything to do with a weird company policy or with me having a pet peeve. I had already been involved with someone where a supervisory relationship between us had existed, where I had not been the one in the position of authority. And where had that led me? To being the only one having to deal with the dirty and poisonous tongues that hadn’t thought twice before stigmatizing me and everything I had worked so hard for. Just for what? For a few laughs? For pointing a few fingers? For bringing me down, so they’d feel a little better?

History could repeat itself, and this time, I would be the one to blame. It would be me who had tripped over the same stone for a second time. This time, I’d be jeopardizing my career, too, not just the credibility of my work, my reputation as a woman, or my social life. And it would all be on me.

Taking another sip of coffee from my mug, I tried to shove all that aside.

Whatever I thought was going on between Aaron and me would have to … not go. Anywhere.

Because it couldn’t. It wouldn’t. And it was all a lie anyway.

As if the very devil was being summoned by Charo, who kept talking about him, or by me, who kept thinking about him one way or the other, Aaron materialized in the kitchen. His eyes immediately found me, as if I were the only thing between these four walls.

My mug froze midair. My lips parted, and my gaze was hungry to take all of him in. But how could I not? The simple tee that covered his broad chest did nothing to hide a body I now knew had been carefully cultivated to perfection for years. Decades. Those loose pajama pants I had seen hanging low on his hips last night still did. Enticing me. Making me think of how he had pressed those hips into me with painfully delicious softness.

But it was the look on his face that started—no, rekindled—the fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach. His features were seemingly snug with sleep, relaxed, and his hair was adorably ruffled. But his eyes … well, there wasn’t a trace of sleep there. They told a whole different story. One I had the strong suspicion was extremely similar to the one bubbling in mine.

And that only encouraged the flutter to take flight and spread to the rest of my body.

Averting my gaze before all this gawking and daydreaming damaged my brain, I forced my lungs to take in the oxygen my body seemed to need in that moment.

“Ay!” Charo’s screech made me flinch. “Mira quién está aquí! Good morning, Aaron. We were just talking about you.”

Peeking at Aaron, I saw his eyes widen and then quickly return to its normal size.

“Good morning,” he said into the room, looking still startled. It was cute. No, it was actually shocking that he had not spotted Charo’s bright red hair like a beacon in the distance. “I hope everything you guys were saying was good.” He accompanied that with a teeny-tiny, lopsided smile.

“Of course, of course.” Charo waved a hand in the air. “We have been waiting for you to wake up. I bet Lina was missing you.”

My back stiffened, and Aaron’s head whirled slowly in my direction.

Dammit, Charo. My lips curled in a tight smile that I hid with my mug.

My cousin continued, “There is fresh coffee. Would you like some? Do you take it black? Would you like some milk with it? Perhaps sugar too? Brown or white? Or maybe you don’t like coffee. Lina hasn’t said anything, so I assumed you would have some. Unless you don’t, of course. I won’t force you to drink it.”

Aaron blinked, looking a little lost.

“You should get yourself a cup,” I muttered.

My fake boyfriend cleared his throat and walked in the direction of the coffeepot. “I … I think I’ll serve myself a cup. Thank you, Charo.”

Charo’s answer was a satisfied grin.

Aaron poured himself some coffee, and before the man even finished filling his mug, Charo was at it again.

“So, did you have fun yesterday, parejita?” My cousin sang that last word. Parejita—little couple.

I rolled my eyes.

“I wish I could have made it, but I’m not young and wild anymore. Not like you guys. I hope the bed in your room is still standing after seeing how the other one ended up. Although I guess if that had happened, I would have definitely noticed. The walls are veeeery thin.” She followed that with a wink.

In the periphery of my vision, I watched Aaron wince. Couldn’t blame him. I winced too.

“Anyway,” my cousin continued, “you guys got home really late last night. I heard the front door closing.”

“Yes, we did. I’m sorry about that, Charo.” My gaze followed Aaron as he walked decidedly across the few feet that separated us, finally settling on one of the three high stools placed around the narrow breakfast bar. Right beside where I had sat down myself.

“Ay no, don’t worry about it,” I heard my cousin say as I kept my eyes on my fake boyfriend’s movements. “It did not bother me. I was actually happy to know you had made it back safely.”

Aaron scooted his stool closer to mine, and his scent hit me like a freaking moving truck, plunging me back to last night, when it had completely engulfed me. My eyelashes fluttered, and I had to avert my gaze.

“Oh, okay. Good. That’s good,” I absently told my cousin, feeling my cheeks flush.

“And I wake up a few times during the night anyway. I’m a light sleeper.” Charo’s voice kept fading in the background as the knowledge of having Aaron’s body within reach sank in. “So, if you ever hear weird noises at night, it’s just me walking around the apartment.” She chuckled. “With a little bit of luck, I won’t accidentally walk in on you naked or something.”

Naked. Aaron naked. My mind seemed to short-circuit the moment it ventured into that mental image, pushing me off my stool as if my ass were on fire.

Space. Air. I needed … something. Anything.

Not being able to go very far, considering the dimension of the functional kitchen, I opened a couple of cabinets, making sure my back was to Aaron until all that blood that had somehow risen to my face returned to its original place.

I fanned myself with one of the cabinet doors. Good, good. Better.

Needing an excuse for my very unclassy getaway from the stool, I snatched a package of chocolate chip cookies.

“So, tell me everything, Aaron,” I heard Charo say behind me as I ripped open the cardboard. “What do you think of our little hometown? I am sure it is very different from New York. We don’t have skyscrapers or any of that, but there are plenty of places to visit. Nature, beautiful beaches. The coast is really amazing. Lots of stuff to do.” She paused, and I extracted one of the cookies from the package. “How many days will you guys stay, by the way? I heard that you were here only for the wedding. That’s such a shame! You should book a holiday and just—”

The doorbell rang, interrupting Charo.

“Oh, I’ll get that,” my cousin announced quickly and then slipped out of the kitchen.

My eyes narrowed.

While I was busy wondering if we were expecting anybody, it took me by surprise when an arm—which I was starting to get very well acquainted with at this rate—snaked around my waist and pulled me backward.

My ass landed on something hard and hot, immediately molding into the space.

Aaron’s lap.

His breath caressed the shell of my ear. “You didn’t say good morning.”

My back straightened as I remembered my lame runaway moment. “You almost made me drop my cookie, Mr. Robot.” It was so weird, so strange, calling him that, like I had done so many times in the past. As if that belonged to a whole different life. To two different people.

Aaron chuckled, and it tickled my neck. “I wouldn’t dare. I know better than that.”

His arm tightened around me, and I had to restrain myself from wrapping my hands around it.

“What are you doing?” I whispered loudly.

Charo would come back in at any second.

“I was feeling lonely,” he admitted, lowering his voice and making my mind fly with everything he wasn’t saying.

Stupid. I need to stop being stupid.

“And if I’m going to sit through this one-sided interrogation, the least you can do is keep me company. Plus, you owe me a conversation.”

“I was right there.” My voice came out strangled. “And Charo is not here now.”

He hummed, and that noise traveled straight to my lower belly. “She will be back though. You know I like to be extra prepared.”

I did. I knew him pretty damn well, I realized.

And just like that, with that thought floating around my mind, Charo’s head popped up in my field of vision. Her eyes widened, and then her face broke into a ridiculously large smile.

Jesus.

She clapped her hands. “Oh, look at you two! Ay Dios mío. You are adorable.”

Aaron’s chest grumbled with a laugh, and I felt it in my back.

“See?” he whispered in my ear.

No, I didn’t see shit, frankly. It was hard to focus on anything, being swaddled in Aaron’s lap.

My mouth opened, but all words died when a second head popped up in the kitchen.

Charo turned in the direction of that second head topped with the same bright shade of red. “No ves, Mamá? Te lo dije.”

“Tía Carmen?” I mumbled. “Qué haces aquí?” What was Charo’s mother doing here?

The woman, who was an older and rounder version of my cousin, pointed a finger at me. “Venir a saludarte, tonta.”

She was here to say hi? I doubted it. She’d see me at the wedding tomorrow.

My eyes turned to Charo, who had guilty written all over her face. She busied herself with something on the counter.

Aaron moved underneath me, his legs flexing and his hand holding my waist securely, just as if—

Whoa.

He stood up. “We haven’t met before,” he told my aunt. Then, he stepped forward. Somehow keeping my body in his delicate but skilled hold. “I don’t want you running for the closest exit,” he whispered in my ear.

What the—

“Soy Aaron. Encantado,” he said louder for my aunt. While keeping me tucked to him.

So, he was going to carry me around in his arms until I talked to him. About last night. About our almost kiss. My head swiveled back, eyes narrowed.

“No, no, no,” Tía Carmen called, stopping Aaron’s advances in her direction. “You can sit back down, cariño. No need of formalities. We are all family.”

Aaron obeyed, placing us both back on the stool immediately.

Charo, who had been hovering around the kitchen during the exchange with my aunt, placed a tray on the breakfast bar. It contained fruit, cereals, nuts, a plate with all different kinds of cheese and embutido, and a few slices of bread too.

My eyes widened as I wondered how and when had that arrived to the apartment.

“I got a few groceries yesterday,” my cousin explained.

Cocking a brow, I zeroed in on her. That meant planning.

“Have you tried some jamón, Aaron?” she asked, ignoring my glance.

“I have. It’s delicious but—”

Tía Carmen leaned on the table. “Do you like chorizo too? This one is really good.”

“Here,” my cousin said, not waiting for his answer and serving him a few slices of both Spanish delicatessens on a small plate. She placed it in front of us. “Try it. I always buy the best kind.”

My fake boyfriend thanked her, probably staring at the plate and wondering if they actually listened when people talked. Taking pity on him, I patted his forearm, which was still around my waist.

“Y qué intenciones tiene este chico con nuestra Linita?” Tía Carmen asked my cousin as she snatched a slice of bread off the tray. What intentions does he have with our little Lina?

My jaw fell to the floor.

Charo seemed to think about it for a moment. “No lo sé, Mamá.” Her eyes zeroed in on the man behind—or rather beneath—me. “Aaron, what are your intentions with Lina? You are not just fooling around, are you? What do you think about marriage? Because Lina is about to turn thirty and—”

“Charo,” I interrupted her. “Ya basta,” I hissed. “And I’m only twenty-eight. Jesus.”

Aaron chuckled behind me. “Marriage is one of my favorite institutions.”

My jaw hit the floor.

“I’ve always wanted to get married.”

My breath hitched, my mouth still hanging open.

“Have a bunch of kids. A dog too.”

Swallowing hard, I tried my best to conceal my pure shock. I tried to take ahold of my mind, which had wandered away with dangerous rose-tainted images, born of Aaron’s words.

Fake. He’s only saying what every family wants to hear.

And then he really went for it. “We love dogs, don’t we, bollito?”

Managing to pick up my jaw from the floor, I answered with a weak, “Yeah.” Then, I shook my head and somehow recovered. “That’s why we’ll have a bunch of them. Instead of kids.”

His chuckle tickled my ear.

“But there’s plenty of time to talk about that,” I gritted out with a fake smile.

“Ay que bien! Dogs, babies, true love. Just in time before you are a little too old.” Charo clapped, and I shot her a look. “Mujer, no te pongas así.” Don’t be like that, she said. “Did you try that jamón, Aaron? If you ever get married and move to Spain, you’ll have all the jamón you’d ever want.”

Move to Spain? Jesus, what did she want? To make me lose my shit?

My cousin continued, “You see, Lina had to leave to America all those years ago because of everything that happened and—”

“Charo,” I cut her off, my breathing growing heavy. “Déjalo ya, por favor,” I begged her to drop it.

The doorbell rang again. And I muttered a not-so-quiet curse under my breath.

“Oh! They are here!” my cousin announced.

What? Who?

Then, she proceeded to link her arm with her mother’s, and they slipped out of the kitchen together.

Aaron’s hand squeezed my arm gently, and I released all the air in my lungs.

I was on edge after that. And I was going to ignore—no, forget—his comment about marriage and kids and dogs because it was completely irrelevant.

And I did as soon as his fingers trailed down to my wrist. The touch—the caress—so featherlike, so brief, but so very powerful that it created a riot of shivers to spread across my whole body.

“Relax,” he said in my ear. His fingers started moving in circles over the skin of my wrist. The brush of his fingers was lazy, calming. “That’s it,” he whispered as his fingertips kept flicking over my skin.

My shoulders gradually relaxed until my back settled completely against his front.

Aaron’s chin rested on the top of my head, and then he said, “We’ve got this.”

I wanted to believe him, to believe that we could fake date our way through this improvised family reunion today and then tomorrow. But as I finally surrendered and let my body fall into his, it felt like way more than just that. I realized a part of me didn’t want to believe in just that. Because it felt right to be in this kitchen, sitting on his lap, while he brushed his fingers over the sensitive skin of my wrist as we endured my family’s inappropriate antics.

We felt like a we, Aaron and I.

And when it was my mother’s head coming into view, followed by my abuela, my tía, and Charo, that realization solidified somewhere in the middle of my chest. Like a brick or a block of cement. Heavy, firm, and really hard to ignore. But it was when Aaron briefly peeled himself off me—just long enough to introduce himself to my abuela—that I felt the brick click into place, inserting itself like a Tetris piece in a nook that had been waiting to be filled. And by the time he returned his arm to my waist and my body to his lap, just after he looked down and smiled that smile just for me, I knew with certainty that I’d never be able to get that damn brick out of there.

It was there to stay.