Page 56 of Cava with My Colleague

With the woman.

Carlos is laughing. I rest my chin on my hand and watch.

This is who he really is. This is his real life.

And I’m just the colleague passing through.

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget how handsome he is. He’s good-looking with all that tension in his body, but I rarely get to see him like this. Carlos wears his age well, and while I’ve been attracted to older men in a theoretical sense (George Clooney can hop into my bed any day), Carlos is the first one I’ve really felt that pull toward.

Carlos presses the up button for the elevator. Are they saying goodbye? Oh, please don’t get into the elevator together . . .

Damn. Carlos holds the door open and the woman steps in.

The elevator doors close and I look down at my wineglass.

I was being ridiculous. Building something out of nothing. One kiss in a hallway doesn’t mean anything. Not when you’re temporary and she’s—whoever she is—permanent.

He probably regrets it. That’s why he was so weird today. That’s why he couldn’t even look at me.

And honestly? That’s fine. That’s for the best.

I have presentations to finish. A tour to complete. A career to think about. Rebecca’s watching my performance, and the last thing I need is to get distracted by feelings for someone who was never available in the first place.

Whatever I thought was happening between us . . . isn’t.

I drain my wineglass and signal the bartender for another.

I just need to get through four more presentations, keep things professional, and then I can go home and forget any of this ever happened.

It’s better this way.

It has to be.

21

Jade

Two days later, I can’t stop replaying Barcelona.

I’ve been quiet all day. Through the flight to Rome, the drive out to Castel Gandolfo, settling into Santo’s villa. My friends noticed—of course they noticed—but they gave me space.

Now, though, as we explore the villa, I can feel their eyes on me.

“Damn, this place is amazing,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice. My mouth literally fell open when I had entered earlier.

“I know, right?” Emma grins. She’s putting away the groceries we picked up on our way out to the countryside, leaving the three of us to discover the house ourselves.

I wander from room to room, poking my nose in places and exploring. I’ve never met someone with a second home that I know of. Well, actually, this is Santo’s only home—he rents in the city, which is what made it easy for him and Emma to move in together. But it feels like it needs a qualifier—he doesn’t live here.

Back in the kitchen, I pour glasses of wine and join Tessa and Sara out on the balcony. They ooh and aah over the view.

But I’m not thinking about the view. I’m thinking about the way Carlos couldn’t meet my eyes. The way my friends were right—six weeks isn’t enough time for anything real. The way I’ve been so incredibly stupid.

I take a long sip of wine.

“Oh, this is the life,” I say, sinking into a chair and trying to focus on the gorgeous view over the trees and the lake. Castel Gandolfo sits beside a lake—of course, what would a papal summer home be without a lakeside retreat?—and we can see almost the whole thing, plus the patchwork of the village center through the trees. Everything is awash with the colors of sunset.

Sara starts in on her and Chris’s schedule, which is rapidly becoming a source of conflict between them. It’s been almost a year since we arrived in Europe, and Sara and Chris are trying to figure out what to do now that Zoe is on summer break and Chris still needs to be mostly in London. Eventually they’ll be in London full time, but until then, it’s a lot of travel and coordination.