The Spanish Love Deception

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.”