Page 138 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“I think a lot wouldn’t,” she laughs. “But how was your night? Did you sleep well?”

“With you? Always,” I promise, settling onto the couch with her in my lap. “I missed you in bed, though. Couldn’t sleep?”

“I woke up so early with a call from Thalia that… wow,” she says with genuine irritation.

“What happened?”

“She wants to know what’s up with us, of course. Seriously, it was six in the morning in Brazil, and she’s already like this,” she grumbles, frowning.

“I love seeing you all annoyed, you know? Makes you even hotter, cuter, sexier. Everything’s better.”

“Stop,” she says, trying to hide her smile, but her eyes give her away.

“You know what else makes you gorgeous?” I lean closer. “Singing in Portuguese.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t even hear it properly.”

“Maybe I did…” A crease of doubt forms on her forehead. “Is that song about the table yours?” I ask, trying to hide how much it moved me, but the crease in Alexandra ’s brow deepens, and she bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God, no! It’s, like, one of the biggest samba classics ever. Honestly, A.J.” Alex keeps laughing while I narrow my eyes at her because I’m not seeing the humor.

“Since when does my labrador pout like that?”

“Since you’re mocking my lack of musical knowledge.”

“It’s from the sixties, but you’re right, sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. But tell me… do you think of your dad when you sing?”

“It’d be impossible not to,” she says, her fingers fidgeting before she meets my eyes again. “I’m totally at peace with my career, A.J. I know what I want, and I’ll do everything—everything—to make it happen. But he wasn’t a bad dad, you know?”

“Does Thalia ever talk about him?”

“I asked her not to,” she says, taking a deep breath. “But he… he sent me a message after the last show.” This is news.

“He said he misses me, that my talent’s really something, and… he asked if there’s something going on with us. I laughed because the question came with a screenshot from some gossip site with a picture of us, singing the way we do…”

“All tangled up in each other, I get it,” I say, earning a slap for stating the truth. “So what’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“When I left Brazil, we had a terrible fight, and I’m living the best moment of my life, Anthony. The last thing I want is another argument that’ll stain this time. When it’s over, I’ll go back and talk to him. But for now… I just want this: me, you, and the music.”

I smile at the sweetness in her voice, at the tender way she smooths my hair.

“Are you really okay with that?” My question makes her glance away and swallow hard, but Alexandra lifts her head and looks me dead in the eye, her voice steady and sure.

“No. But I wasn’t okay before, either. I grew up as just the little girl of Mr. Luiz, almost like his shadow. We had… a bond.” Alexandra swallows, blinking twice, probably fighting tears. “Now, it’s hard to know there’s this huge gap between us. For me, it’s exactly like the song says: I didn’t know how much it would hurt to think about who he was, about who we were…”

“Being an only child does that, huh?” I say softly. “You end up tied to both of them, for different reasons. Even if it’s not the same intensity, that bond is still there—it’s a part of you.”

“What did you get from your dad?” she asks, shifting off my lap and studying my face.

“He never holds onto things. For Patrick, it’s like, if ‘it’s over, it’s over!’ Forgiveness is always there, no grudges,” I say with a nostalgic smile. “My mom used to say people took advantage of that, but he never cared.”

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