Page 90 of Cava with My Colleague

The flight from Seville to Monaco is short—barely two hours—but it feels like crossing into another world.

I left Carlos at the Seville hotel this morning. We had breakfast downstairs, punctuated by small touches that felt like promises or apologies or both. On the street, our taxis running, he kissed me goodbye—quick and chaste because we were in public, but his hand lingered on my waist.

“Have fun with your friends,” he said.

“I will.”

“Tell them I say hello.”

I laughed. “They barely know you.”

“They will,” he said, and the certainty in his voice made my chest tight.

Now I’m in a taxi winding up the hillside toward the hotel, the Mediterranean sparkling below, and I’m trying to figure out how to explain Carlos to my friends when I can barely explain him to myself.

The hotel is gorgeous—all white stone and blue accents, perched on a cliff with views that go on forever. Tessa chose it, which means it’s both beautiful and well within our budget because she’s magic like that.

I find them on the terrace: Emma in a sundress and oversized sunglasses, Tessa in linen pants and a tank top, Sara in denim shorts and a bikini top like she’s ready to hit the beach any second.

“Jade!” Emma spots me first and jumps up, nearly knocking over her mimosa.

They swarm me with hugs and squeals and questions about my flight, and for a moment I let myself just be here. With them. My people.

“You look different,” Sara says, studying my face once we’re all settled around the table.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. Relaxed? No, not relaxed. The opposite of relaxed.” She narrows her eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I just finished a two-month presentation tour.” I take a long sip of the mimosa Emma shoves into my hand. “I’m tired.”

“Liar,” Tessa says mildly. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m sunburned from Seville.”

“Also a liar.” Emma leans forward. “Truth serum. Spill it. Now.”

I look at the three of them—my best friends, the women who’ve known me since we were all living in Austin’s suburbs, before they were even dreaming about living abroad. They moved to Europe for adventure and self-fulfillment. I moved for work. And now here we are, on our last weekend together before I move back to Austin.

“I slept with Carlos,” I say.

The table goes silent. Then⁠—

“WHAT?” Emma shrieks.

“When?” Tessa demands.

“Finally,” Sara says with satisfaction.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘finally’?” I turn to Sara. “You knew?”

“I suspected. You’ve been talking about him constantly for weeks. ‘Carlos said this, Carlos thinks that, Carlos and I had the best presentation today.’” She grins. “It was very obvious.”

“It was not obvious,” I say, with great conviction.

Three faces look back at me.

“It was extremely obvious,” Emma says.