CHAPTER SIXTY
Asher
Kaia grinned at the camera over her shoulder, and I chuckled. In jeans and my racing jacket, she posed with effortless grace, answering the journalist’s questions in Spanish as if she’d been born to it.
A flash burst. She tossed her waves over one shoulder and gifted Juan, the photographer—and me—another dazzling smile.
“Asher, ven aquí,” Juan called. “Una foto juntos.”
A picture together? He could have a thousand. I jogged to Kaia’s side, cupped her jaw, and tilted her face up.
The shutter clicked as I brushed her lips in a teasing kiss.
Then she framed my face in her palms and pressed her forehead to mine.
More pictures. More encouragement from Juan.
“Tu chica es guapísima,” he said when the shoot wrapped. Your girl is gorgeous. “Eres un tipo con suerte.” You’re a lucky guy.
Didn’t I fucking know it.
Kaia hugged him and his assistant goodbye, and we left the studio hand in hand.
Cars streamed along Gran Via, and Kaia drank in the avenue, wide-eyed. Our hotel was a ten-minute walk. We’d barely had time to drop our luggage before the interview, but I had surprises waiting for her once we returned.
“Do you think Juan will send us those pictures?” she asked. “I’d love to frame them for my room.”
“He’ll email them to me,” I said. “Thanks for doing the interview. You were amazing.”
“It was so much fun.” Her grin stretched wide. “I was thrilled to speak Spanish without even thinking.”
“You’re wasting time in college, peque.”
She wagged her finger. “No. I still have so much to learn. For once studying is fun, and I aced all my exams. Let me enjoy it.”
“Of course.” I slowed to kiss her forehead. “I’m proud of you. Want to see where I grew up?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it—before the familiar ache in my chest warned me away.
But I wanted her to know everything. The joys and the wounds.
“I’d love to,” she whispered. “Please, show me.”
Half an hour later, we stopped in front of a building overlooking El Retiro Park. December cold pinkened Kaia’s cheeks. She looked adorable in her red jacket, and I hugged her close, stealing warmth as I stared up at the apartment where I’d once been happiest.
“Your mother shouldn’t have sold it,” Kaia said. “Your dad would’ve wanted you to keep it.”
“Maybe. Sometimes I wonder who lives there now.”
Kaia slipped her hand into mine. “I’m sorry, Ash. Time doesn’t make it easier, does it?”
“It’s fine.” I traced the back of her hand with my thumb. “I just wanted to show you. Javi’s mom lives nearby. And Miguel too.”
Kaia arched a brow. “Your dad’s mechanic?”
“That’s the one.”
“He never replied, did he?”
I shook my head. “Guess he doesn’t want to talk to me. No way he changed both his email and his number.”
“You know what?” Kaia tugged at my hand. “We’re going to visit him.”
She looked so hopeful, so eager to help, that I couldn’t tell her the truth—that he might not want to see me. The closure I’d chased for years would probably never come. My therapist had warned I might need to accept that to move forward.
I’d worry about that after today.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s a five-minute walk.”
I knew Miguel’s building like my own. Dad used to bring me often. I’d sit with Lego sets while they watched reruns of old races. Miguel always joked that real bikes weren’t as fun as the plastic ones, that he’d spend retirement surrounded by Lego bricks.
Was that what he did? Did he retire because of Dad’s death?
Memories crashed over me as we reached the entrance.
“What’s his apartment number?” Kaia asked, her finger hovering over the intercom’s chrome buttons.
“3B. We don’t have to do this, mi amor.”
“The worst we’ll get is silence.” She pressed the button.
One ring. Then another. And another.
My stomach dropped. This was it.
After five more tries, Kaia let go. “I’m sorry, Ash. I really wanted you to talk to him.”
“I did too. But maybe it’s for the best. It’s been years. He could’ve moved, started a family somewhere else.”
People handled loss in their own ways. Maybe Miguel’s way was cutting ties with me.
I couldn’t keep chasing him, not when answers would change nothing.
Now that I raced professionally, I knew how strict inspections were.
Dad’s bike had likely been fine when he highsided.
Just like mine had been before my accident.
“You’re probably right,” Kaia said. “Still, talking to him would’ve helped.”
“It’s okay, peque.” I kissed her temple. “I’m okay.”
Having her back in my life was reason enough for that.
***
By evening we’d returned to the hotel. I told Kaia I had something planned, and she disappeared to change while I waited on the couch.
“You know you’re beautiful no matter what you wear,” I called.
Her soft laugh drifted from the bedroom. “I walked half of Madrid in those clothes. I’m ready.”
She stepped into the doorway in a light blue, thin-strapped dress that matched her eyes and clung to her curves.
Heat punched through me.
Kaia twirled slowly. “Like it?”
I leaped to my feet, rounding the couch. “I love it. And you.”
She pressed against me in a clear invitation, arms winding around my neck, and I cursed that we had to leave instead of staying right here.
“Let’s go,” I whispered, brushing her lips with mine. “Or we won’t go anywhere. And I want to make your first night in Madrid special.”
“It already is.” She swayed out the door, silk rippling over her hips. “But I won’t say no to food.”
Neither would I. We rode the elevator to the top-floor restaurant. When the doors opened, Madrid stretched out before us, city lights glittering beyond the wraparound glass. In the open kitchen, a chef worked with practiced ease.
The ma?tre d’ greeted us and led us to our table.
Two years ago, I’d only dreamed of bringing Kaia here—to the city that raised me. Now she stood across from me, eyes wide with wonder as I pulled out her chair.
“This place is incredible,” she said. “Careful, or I might want to move here. I mean, look at that view.”
She gestured toward the sparkling skyline. I took her hand and brushed her knuckles with my lips. “We could move wherever you want.”
“We?” She tilted her head as I skimmed another kiss across her skin.
“I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Yes.” She laced her fingers with mine. “Now I know that.”
She believed it, but I wasn’t finished proving it. From now on, every decision—career or not—would include her.
A server arrived for our order. I asked for a bottle of Rioja and a charcuterie board. Kaia chose king prawns for her main dish; I went with slow-braised beef.
The candle between us cast a soft glow on her face. She smiled. “You’re setting the bar high for our dates, peque.”
“I’m the one who needs to reach it. You just have to enjoy.”
“I think I’ll surprise you with something for your birthday next week.”
“Actually,” I said as the server poured our wine, “I know a few things you could do.”
Like moving in with me. Maybe it sounded rushed, but in my mind, we’d already lost two years we should’ve spent together.
“I’m open to suggestions.” She lifted her glass to her lips.
“You could wear one of my jackets. And nothing else.”
She sipped again. “Only that? That’s easy—if you can keep your hands to yourself at your grandma’s house.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No. You’ll be in my room. In my bed. The walls are thick. And you could always bite my hand.”
Her cheeks flushed that shade of pink I loved. “Playing dirty?”
“You have no idea.”
Our food arrived, cutting off the game. We shared bites, talking about the meal and what we’d do for the rest of the trip.
Training and obligations would claim me again soon, but these weeks in Spain belonged to Kaia. I wanted her certain of me—of us—of the cloudless future we’d build together. One neither my mother nor her father could touch.
“I’m so full.” Kaia leaned back, dabbing her mouth with the linen napkin.
Nerves twisted in my gut. She didn’t know I’d planned another surprise. “Maybe you could make room for dessert?”
I caught the server’s eye near the kitchen. The lights dimmed, leaving only the glow of candles.
“Cumpleanos feliz,” he sang, carrying a heart-shaped cake to our table. Other diners joined in the chorus. Kaia pressed her clasped hands to her mouth, failing to hide her shock.
The waiter set the cake down to applause and cheers. I thanked him, then turned back to Kaia.
“I missed two of your birthdays,” I said, brushing a tear from her cheek. “But I’ll do everything I can not to miss another.”
“You didn’t have to,” she whispered. “I missed yours too.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I’d left her right after she gave herself to me. I’d caused her pain. Too late, but I had to show her—in every way I could—that things would be different now.
“I bought this a while back.” I set a flat jewelry box on the table. “I was going to ask your friend to give it to you, but I doubt she could’ve explained this one.”
Inside lay a platinum bracelet engraved with a line from The Little Prince about letting your dream devour your life, not the other way around. I’d meant to give it to her on her nineteenth birthday so she’d never lose sight of her own plans. I’d held onto it ever since.
Kaia sniffled, fastening the bracelet around her wrist. “I love it. Thank you, Ash.”
“I reread that book a lot,” I admitted.
Her lips curved. “You didn’t find it depressing, then?”
The first time we met, she’d been reading that book in the garden. I told her it was depressing—and in a way, it was. But when we were apart, it reminded me of her, and I clung to that memory to keep her presence alive in my mind. Even when I’d lost hope of us.
“It made me feel closer to you.”
“Like the books you gave me.”
Our gazes tangled before she dropped hers to the cake. “Think we can ask them to bring it to our room?”
Anticipation sparked under my skin. The want in her eyes said enough. I was already heading to the servers.
Kaia waited by the elevator.