6. Valentina
Chapter 6
Valentina
Nerves of anticipation skate up and down my arms as I board the flight to Austin, Texas.
I smile gratefully at the flight attendant before sitting down in the business class seat. Avery slips into the seat beside mine.
I glance at him as he stows our carry-on luggage. The only luggage we brought. “You didn’t have to splurge for business class.”
He winks at me and pulls out his cell phone. “It’s fine and besides, we need to document this for our wedding.”
Right. My stomach tightens as I smile for the photo. Avery and I settle into our seats, and I glance out the window to mentally regroup.
When Avery asked me to name a city in the US I want to visit, I immediately replied with Austin. Especially now, in late November, with migratory bird-watching at a peak. Austin is situated along the Central Flyway region, and we can catch some great bird sightings—especially songbirds and raptors—while also having an adventure. One, Avery reminds me, is crucial to selling our story.
Our story. Our marriage .
I still can’t believe Avery offered marriage. But after he explained his past, it makes more sense. He wants to prove to his family and to himself that he can be a man who does the right thing. And while I would hardly put fake marriage into that category, I understand why he does.
For me, it’s a win-win. I’ll be able to stay in the States to complete my research with Dr. Mendoza and I won’t risk my heart. Avery is all about his football career and doesn’t do serious romantic entanglements.
In fact, by marrying me, he’s probably made his life a lot less complicated with the female drama that seems to follow him.
When I mentioned this, he’d grinned and said, “More time for football.”
And more time for my research.
It’s a plus that being career focused is something Avery and I share.
The plane takes off and I watch Knoxville fade away. When I glance at Avery, his headphones are on, his eyes are closed, and his face is serene.
I study him, wondering how my whole world flipped upside down in twenty-four hours. Of course, I’d seen Avery around. We live in the same building, Carla is friends with his sister, and he was recently on the cover of a magazine stocked in every grocery checkout aisle in the city.
But to be sitting beside him, I shiver. He has the same charm Dane has. He draws people in without even trying. When he enters a space, you feel his energy and you want to be near it, like flowers lifting their faces to the sun. It’s intrinsic, almost desperate, and you never take the time to consider what if you get sunburned?
What if you get hurt? Dane’s wide smile and clear blue eyes flicker through my mind. Avery isn’t Dane. No one is Dane.
I shake thoughts of Dane clear and turn away from Avery. Popping in my earbuds, I press play on a Jose Velez album my abuela loves. The familiarity of the music washes over me and I imagine sitting in Abeulita’s kitchen, with Jose Velez’s powerful voice delivering a beautiful ballad, and the sugary cinnamon scent of Coca de mollitas baking for our afternoon merienda , or snack.
Letting out a long exhale, I close my eyes and fall asleep.
After a quick connection in Atlanta, we make it to Austin.
“After you,” Avery says, pushing the hotel door open for me. I enter the space and gasp, spinning around to glance at him. “You went overboard.”
“I’m wooing you, Valentina,” he reminds me. “At the end of the week, in a mere four days, I’m going to propose in a romantic setting, you’re going to say yes, and we’re going to elope.” He rattles off our fraudulent plan matter-of-factly. As if it’s not the most contrived and awful thing either of us have ever done.
Tilting my head at Avery, I note that he’s already admitted to worse. For him, this sham marriage pales in comparison to the world of pain he’s caused his friends and family.
For me, this fake marriage is the most preposterous, out-of-character, and reckless thing I’ve ever done. Well, one of them anyway. It will surely shock my parents and cause discord among my family members.
And yet, I’m not freaking out. Not the way I should. On some level, I trust Avery Callaway. After only twenty-four hours. I’m not sure what that says about my mental state.
Instead of saying any of that, I gesture to the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto a beautiful, scenic portion of Lady Bird Lake. “Do you think anyone will think you’re overcompensating for something?” I ask cheekily, arching my eyebrows.
Avery stows our luggage in the corner of the room and stares at me for a beat before bursting out in laughter. He shakes his head at me, amused. His brown hair is mussed as he tugs off the hat he wore once we disembarked from our plane, and tosses it on the bed. His eyes crinkle in the corners, slate gray flashing. “Lena, are you concerned about the size of my package?”
Unwillingly and of their own volition, my eyes drop to his groin. His laughter increases, and I blush furiously.
Shit. My eyes snap back to his. The heat in my cheeks is almost unbearable as Avery steps closer to me. His laughter dies and his expression grows serious as he studies me. The burst of amusement has been stamped out with a heaviness that wraps around us like a cloak.
My breathing stalls in my chest and the stupidity of my comment wails in my eardrums like a massive mistake.
Why did I say that? Nothing good can come from it.
Of course, this man isn’t going to actually have sex with me. And even if he wanted to, I couldn’t handle him. I wouldn’t even know what to do with him.
“Valentina,” he murmurs, his hand lifting to cup my cheek.
I hold myself perfectly still, neither leaning into his touch, nor turning away. Avery’s thumb brushes a line over my lips, and I hate that they part.
I hate that he has this much of an effect on me. That his nearness causes my stomach to pitch and my nerves to scatter. My nipples pebble and heat gathers low in my abdomen. There are too many feelings, too much neediness, and I don’t know how to process it. How to make sense of the way I feel around Avery when I’m usually a clearheaded, decisive, sure-footed woman.
With him, I’m messy and lack a filter. With him, I’m liable to make a fool of myself.
“I assure you, sweetheart, that while you’re married to me, you’ll always have the best of what I can provide.” A small smile glints off his mouth, but his eyes are serious. Steady. “It will never be rainbows and magic, Lena. But travel arrangements, living accommodations, and restaurant reservations…” His throat works a swallow. “Concert tickets, invites to brand launches, access to the best clubs in Knoxville…” His thumb rubs against my lips again. “That I can do. And, if you want to make this thing between us physical, I swear I’ll make it good as fuck for you.”
I gasp. My stomach twists as the heat in my lower abdomen pulses.
I am dead. Deceased.
“But that’s all I’ll ever be able to offer. This.” He tips his head as if to encompass the space, the hotel, the city of Austin. “So let me do the only part I can to the best of my ability, yeah?”
Holy shit, my body feels like it’s about to combust. If I wasn’t half terrified, I’d probably be panting. My mind whirls and my limbs feel weak. Somehow, I manage a small nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay,” Avery agrees, releasing his hold. The second he does, I suck in a gulp of oxygen.
The tingling in my hands ease and the sound rushing in my ears quiets. “How long do we stay married for?” I whisper.
Avery sighs. “Two years for a permanent green card. One without conditions.”
Two years. Seven-hundred-thirty days as Mrs. Callaway and then…nothing. “Sure. Okay. Two years sounds good.”
“Will that give you enough time to complete your research?”
“Yes.”
“Not that it matters. Once you have the permanent green card, you’re good for a decade.”
“Right. A decade.” I work a swallow, trying to process the information he’s laying out. Then I can apply for assistant professor positions across the United States. Will my parents be proud of my accomplishments?
Or will they still expect me to return to Spain and begin my career there?
“And two years is a fair crack at trying to make a marriage work. It’s not too short that we didn’t try and not long enough to have major issues,” he rationalizes.
I nod. Although the increased tempo of my heartbeat disagrees. I can foresee major issues, as Avery calls them, if I don’t get my attraction to him in check.
Avery smirks and nods. “All right then.” He strides back to the luggage, and some of the heaviness in the air abates. “Are you hungry?”
Not even a little bit. “Sure,” I manage.
“Great. I’m going to rinse off and change.” He pulls clothes from his luggage. “Then, you want to grab a bite and explore the city?”
“Sounds good.”
Avery nods once before entering the bathroom. The door closes and the lock catches. He flips on the shower, and the running water drowns out the ragged breaths I pull into my lungs.
I sink to the edge of the king-sized bed and drop my face into my hands.
Another thought spikes in my mind and I swear, patting the mattress on either side of my hips.
How did I not notice until now that there’s one bed.
One bed!
And if I want to make things physical between us?
What was I thinking playing with fire?
Nothing’s happened and I already feel the heat.
I don’t stand a chance with Avery Callaway, the man about to become my lawfully wedded husband.