Page 49 of Claimed At First Sight

Of course, we all knew this day would come. Mamma and Aldo have spoken every day for the past five and a half weeks, and somehow their calls keep getting longer. I’d been praying the distance might cool things between them, but apparently God has better things to do than answer my pleas.

The same goes for Maximo.

Every Sunday, without fail, another ridiculous arrangement of flowers arrives with a gift I have no intention of opening. I send the gift straight back. The following Sunday, another one appears.

Rejection really does only encourage him. And now I’m supposed to go to his city?

No. Not happening.

“Why so soon?” Isa asks, her voice strained too.

She seems to like the idea of visiting the Windy City as much as I do. Why, though?

She’s been acting a little weird lately. I need to get to the bottom of that.

“Aldo’s been asking for a while. He invited us for Christmas, but I thought it was too soon. Now seems like the right time.”

No, it definitely doesn’t.

“Yay, I finally get to fly,” Ari cheers. “How long are we going for? And can we take Rufus with us?”

“No. The cat will stay here,” Mamma replies firmly.

Ari pouts. She loves that cat.

“We’re going for at least two or three weeks. We’ll see how things go.” Mamma’s smile widens.

We’ll see how things go?

My pulse kicks harder.

Two or three weeks is bad enough. But what happens if things go well?

My stomach drops to the center of the earth. I want to follow it. The liquid, hot core of the planet is preferable to Chicago.

Flowers and presents are one thing when Maximo is thousands of miles away. I can hand them to a maid and send them straight back without ever having to look at him.

Chicago will be different.

He’ll be there.

The memory of the garden comes back with humiliating clarity. His hand at the back of my neck. His mouth on mine. The way I forgot for far too long that I was supposed to be pushing him away.

What if he tries again?

Or worse. What if he tries again and I let him?

Oh God. I don’t want to deal with that. He’ll probably declare us engaged.

“I can stay here,” I say quickly.

Mamma’s gaze snaps to mine. “No.”

“I don’t need to come. I’m nineteen. I’m an adult. You’ll only be gone a few weeks.”

“All of us are going,” she says sternly.

“But—”