Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I know I’m not wearing a condom, and it kills me to have to pull out of her.
“No,” she begs, gripping my backside.
I smile and murmur warnings in Spanish. She shakes her head and tilts her hips, seating herself on me again, forcing the issue.
“I’m on the pill, just please.”
“Joder.”
My self-control melts away in an instant, all of it—gone. I pump into her with such rapid strokes I’m scared I might hurt her. Her nails dig into my skin and her head tips back against the wall as her eyes squeeze closed. She bites her lip, but I still hear her stifled cries.
My hips don’t slow even as I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and press my lips to her pulse. Her breathing is so hard, so quick. I can feel our hearts thundering together. She turns her head, her lips collide into mine, and then at once, the pleasure is blinding, all-consuming. I fill her and she whimpers. I kiss her and plead with her: “Stay.”
I finally say the word out loud, hoping it might convince her. She can’t go back to California.
She opens her eyes and looks at me, then leans in for another kiss.
“Stay,” I whisper.
I feel her wistful smile. “C’mon, let’s go take a bath.”
Later that night, I’m drawn out of sleep. Pale light from the full moon filters through the thin drapes and I’m about to drift back off when a hushed voice carries in from the hallway. I glance back to see Isabel’s side of the bed is empty and my bedroom door is slightly ajar.
“I already said I’m sorry I didn’t answer earlier,” Isabel says, sounding distressed. “I was—”
I sit up and throw off my blankets, already standing to go to her.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Please… Mom…”
I open the door and Isabel whips around to face me with tear tracks down her cheeks and sorrow marring her features. She shakes her head in warning and turns away, giving me her back. She’s not dressed. Earlier, after our bath, we fell into bed together. Now, she hunches her shoulders, concealing her nakedness from me, embarrassed by it.
I hear the harsh tone on the other end of the line, but I can’t make out the words.
“Enough. Okay. I’ll call you when I land,” Isabel insists weakly. She sounds crushed. “Let me just try to get on the first flight in the morning.”
Once the call is over, the phone slips away from her ear. Neither of us speaks, and for that moment, I’m too scared to breathe. She won’t look up at me, won’t turn around.
“Isabel?”
“Lita is in the hospital.” Her voice breaks. “I have to go to France.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isabel
It’s hard to withstand the whiplash. One moment I’m on Ibiza, wrapped in Cristiano’s arms while we share his bed. The next morning I’m on the first flight to Marseille Provence Airport. My mom met me at baggage claim, impatient and distraught. I’d hoped my dad would be with her, but he’s already at the hospital with Lita.
Two days ago, my grandmother missed a stair coming in from her garden and tripped forward. Her arm caught most of her fall, but her head still hit the concrete hard enough that she lost consciousness. She has a broken elbow and a nasty concussion. Worse, there was no one with her at the time. She was alone and she suffered for it. I can’t think of her lying there bleeding without feeling sick.
Had I been there, things would have been different. Better. I know, because my mom hasn’t let me forget my blame in all of this for one single second.
I stare out the window as she drives the rental car. She hasn’t taken a breath in ten minutes. “I cannot believe you would do something s-so reckless, Isabel. I don’t even recognize this version of you. SPAIN? You were in Spain this entire summer and you’ve been lying to us about it? I can’t believe you had so little regard for your safety. Traveling to a foreign country without Steve or another bodyguard, without any safety measures put in place…”
I don’t bother arguing. Instead, I stare out at the green fields as my stomach shrivels into a tight, hard ball.
“Did you have Lita lying for you as well? She told us you were with her. She told the most ridiculous stories now that I look back on it. I can’t believe you put her in that position.”
I let my eyes close and take her continued blame. There’s no sense in trying to speak up on my behalf. My mom is right.
This is partly my fault.
Lita’s asleep when we walk into her hospital room, and the dark bruising and swelling around her left eye is enough to make me hold back a sob. Her head is partially bandaged, covering a row of stitches.