Page 89 of Resilient Love

“So romantic,hijo,” Catalina says.

“Who would have guessed?” Diego, his father, says with a smirk.

“Certainly not me just a few months ago,” I say, trying to steer the attention away from Rafael a bit. His cheeks are flaming, and while it’s adorable, I know he’s been both excited and worried about coming home for the first time in years.

He explained to me that while he’s wanted to come back, he has a lot of fears over his own reaction to being here. He was afraid that Carlos being around would act as a reminder of his perceived shortcomings nearly a decade ago, and he didn’t want to deal with the extra stress, but said that if I came with him, it would help.

It’s still so surreal to think about how far we’ve come in the last few months. I could absolutely believe I’d be fucking him, but falling for him? Developing real feelings? Definitely not.

“Oh, is that so? He’s such a grump sometimes,” Catalina says. “We’ll have to hear all about how you met over lunch. I bet you’re both starving. Follow me,” she says, ushering us toward the kitchen with her.

I hover behind with Rafael, reaching for his hand. He squeezes it the moment his fingers slip between mine, bringing the back of my hand up to press a kiss to the thin skin.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“With you here? I feel like I can walk through fire,” he answers, bending down to give me a chaste kiss. My heart starts to settle, knowing he’s not regretting having me here. For the rest of the night, I revel in the immense pleasure of finding out who the incredible people are who raised this wonderful man, and my heart feels so full.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

SATURDAY, JUNE 7

I flick off the light,pulling the covers up and over me and Elise before pulling her against my side to nuzzle into her hair.

“I didn’t know you were learning Spanish,” I tell her, keeping my voice low and quiet. The walls are thin here, and I don’t want to keep my parents up.

Elise turns on her side, throwing an arm and a leg over my body. “I wanted to surprise you,” she admits, her voice sounding small and maybe a little embarrassed.

“Thank you,mi vida,” I say, kissing the top of her head and squeezing her gently. “That means more to me than you know.”

Her voice sounds sleep-laden and thick. “It’s the least I can do to thank them for welcoming me into their home, and hopefully someday—” She pauses for a long beat, but I don’t rush her despite the way my heart is violently hammering in my chest. I wait, impatient as ever, for her to finally say what I hope she will. “Hopefully they’ll welcome me into their family too.”

Before I can get a word in edgeways, she adds, “I think that language is such an important and unique part of someone’s culture, and I want to share that with you and your family. I’m absolutely horrendous at the pronunciations of everything, but eventually I’ll get better.”

“Especially after a few more trips to Argentina,” I say, hoping that the insinuation will calm the nerves I feel vibrating through her.

She blows out a long breath, her tense muscles relaxing into me, and I know she’s starting to calm down. I love that we can both be vulnerable with each other despite how scared we sometimes are when it’s time to say the big things.

“Can you make a deal with me?” I ask, stroking her damp hair along her back before returning my fingers to her scalp to massage her roots, just how I’ve learned she likes. She starts to melt, her throat humming with a sound I can only describe as Elise’s version of a cat’s purr.

“Depends on the deal,” she says with an airy laugh.

“I’d like to start learning French. I know you don’t speak it often since your dad is really the only person around you who’s fluent, but I still think it’d be a way we could connect on another level.”

She reaches up, giving me an answering kiss on the cheek that warms my insides.

“And what’s the deal?” she asks.

“I’ll help you learn Spanish if you help me learn French,” I tell her, shifting my hand to massage the lobe of her ear.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, sighing dramatically. “I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, my lips simply do not want to make the proper sounds,” she whines.

“Don’t worry,mi vida.I knowplentyof ways we can teach your lips what to do.”

She smacks my chest with a huff. The movement only makes my chest rumble with a laugh that I fight to suppress, knowing I’ll get smacked again if I let it out.

“Rude.” I can practicallyhearthe eyeroll in her voice.

“I’m kidding, baby,” I say, planting a wet kiss on her cheek that she rubs at furiously. “Teach me something in French.”

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