The Spanish Love Deception

Aaron waved his hand, probably indicating that I come closer. I stood there, squinting my eyes at him, wet as a drowned rat. He aggressively waved his pointer at me.

Oh, hell no.

I watched his scowl take over his expression as he mouthed a couple of words that looked a lot like impossible and stubborn.

“I can’t hear you!” I howled over the rain, still rooted to the spot.

His lips moved around what I assumed was something like for fuck’s sake. Unless he was telling me how much he wanted a milkshake. Which, judging by his scowl, I would not put any money on.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped closer. Very slowly. Almost ridiculously so, just so I wouldn’t slip and slide across the sidewalk again. Not in front of him of all people in New York City.

“Get in the car, Catalina.” I heard Aaron’s exasperation clinging to his voice, even over the furious and relentless rain.

Just like I had suspected, he hadn’t wanted a milkshake.

“Catalina,” he said as that blue gaze fell back on me, “get in.”

“It’s Lina.” After close to two years of him exclusively using my full name, I knew correcting him was of no use. But I was frustrated. Irritated. Tired. Soaked too. And I hated my full name. Papá—being the history nerd he was—had named both his daughters after two distinguished Spanish monarchs, Isabel and Catalina. My name being the one that never came back in trend in my country. “And what for?”

His lips parted in disbelief.

“What for?” he repeated my words. Then, he shook his head as he exhaled through his nose. “For an improvised trip to Disneyland. What would it be otherwise?”

For a long moment, I looked inside Aaron Blackford’s car with what I knew was an expression of genuine confusion.

“Catalina”—I watched his face go from exasperation to something that bordered resignation—“I am driving you home”—he stretched his arm and opened the door closest to me, as if it were a done deal—“before you catch pneumonia or almost break your neck. Again.”

Again.

That last part he had added very slowly.

Blood rushed to my cheeks. “Oh, thank you,” I gritted through my teeth. I tried to push down how embarrassed I was and plastered a fake smile on my face. “But there’s no need.” I stood in front of the open door, my wet hair sticking to my face again. I finally dropped the stupid cardigan and started squeezing water off it. “I can manage myself. This is just rain. If I’ve survived this long without breaking my neck, I think I can get home on my own today too. Plus, I’m not in a rush.”

Also, I have been avoiding you since you walked out of my office earlier today.

As I uselessly twisted some more water off my cardigan, I watched his eyebrows knit, regaining his earlier expression as he processed my words.

“What about the cat?”

“What cat?”

His head tilted. “Mr. Cat.”

The water must have been seeping through my skull because it took me an extra second to pin down what he was talking about.

“Your neighbor’s furless cat that you are not allergic to,” he said slowly as my eyes widened. “Ryan’s.”

I averted my eyes. “Bryan. My neighbor’s name is Bryan.”

“Not important.”

Ignoring that last remark, I couldn’t help but notice a line of cars forming behind Aaron’s.

“Get in the car. Come on.”

“No need, really.” One more car piled up. “Mr. Cat will survive a little longer without me.”

Aaron’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, the blaring sound of a horn startled me, making me give a little jump and almost collide against the car’s open door.