35
“Luna Aldridge Looks Smitten Meeting Boyfriend Kieran Alexander’s Family on Trip to Spain”
—ModeSense
MY STOMACH RESEMBLED the inside of a carved-out melon. But somehow, even in its emptiness, there was still sourness crawling up my throat.
The stark white light that lined the hospital’s hallways burned my vision. But every time I winced and closed my eyes, the image appeared of my mother resting in a white bed as the doctor broke the news to my father that the car accident was fatal.
Eyes open, I saw her. Eyes closed, I saw her.
It was such a glaring difference from the woman I had been picturing on the court. I could have vomited if Kieran weren’t holding my hand.
“You holding up okay?” His voice broke me from my thoughts. He didn’t slow his long strides toward the hospital room the nurse had directed us to, but he had turned enough to catch the uneasy look on my face.
“Of course.” The last thing he needed to be worrying about was me. The grip he had on my hand said enough.
From France to Spain, the whole flight here, I held his hand. It felt like the only solace I could offer. He accepted it without hesitation, running his fingers over my rings as he told me I could back out at any point.
“Just because of what happened last night doesn’t mean I expect you to drop everything. I can get you to Madrid the moment I leave the hospital. I know the tournament is soon, so I—”
“Kieran, stop. I’m here because I want to be. There’s nothing more to it,” I had cut him off. Any discussion about tennis or what I had said in that hotel room could wait. I wanted to be a comforting presence when we got there, not an inconvenience.
He took a minute to absorb my words before explaining who would most likely be at the hospital. Names, ages, personalities, relations.
“Room nineteen,” he confirmed. His shoulders rose with tension as he knocked on the door and pushed it open.
And it was… well, nothing like the picture he had painted me.
I had expected to see his brother Franny, sister Mila, their dog Rosco, his parents, and possibly an aunt, uncle, or cousin.
But only two people, who must have been his parents, sat beside the hospital bed.
His resemblance to his father hit me in the center of my chest. They shared the same dark hair—only his father’s was laced with silver—blue eyes, olive skin, strong nose, and sharp jaw. Kieran in thirty years.
Beside him, sitting atop the bed in casual clothes rather than a hospital gown, was his abuela. She looked surprisingly healthy. And, unsurprisingly, happy, judging by the youthful smile painting her face as her grandson entered.
I remained in the doorway shielded by Kieran’s height, feeling like an intruder in the intimate space.
“Alejandro!” she cheered. He immediately softened at the name.
It made me realize how much I still didn’t know about him.
This new version had been developing in my mind for months, but even now, it was still evolving.
Like a movie shot on film, developing beneath layers of chemicals.
I’d only been granted corners and edges of a full scene.
“What are you doing here?” she cooed, instantly grabbing his face, and laying a kiss on his cheek.
“Making sure you’re all right, of course.” Based on his tone, the words that seemed to be missing from the end of his sentence were: Why else would I be here?
“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked.
He took a step back, glancing up at his father. “Dad called and said you were in the hospital—that something was wrong.”
She turned to look at her son-in-law. “It’s just a routine checkup. Why would you say that?”
Kieran’s father already appeared to be over the conversation, not an ounce of excitement to see his son. “I didn’t say that. All I said was that your abuela was in the hospital.”
Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled something under his breath. “And how did you think I was going to take that? Honestly, Dad.”
I didn’t need to see his face to know there was a line between his brows, deep enough to catch sweat.
“It’s your own fault for not waiting to hear what I had to say.”
“You knew why I was coming. You had every chance to call or send me a text on my flight here.”
His father shook his head. “Maybe it’s a good thing you pay your family a visit anyway.”
Kieran’s fists curled. I had no idea how he was staying so calm when my own irritation was climbing. “Why did you call me, then?” he asked.
“I needed someone to give Mila a hand with Lucila’s kids for the night. I also need you to stop by the restaurant to make sure the back door is locked.”
He called his son to handle a to-do list?
Kieran’s mother spoke up for the first time, not before rolling her eyes at her husband.
“Hi, sweetie, it’s good to see you.” She smiled, stepping around the bed to finally greet Kieran, laying a kiss on his cheek.
She was a tall, slender woman with a gray bob and a kind smile that mimicked her son’s.
A tang of bitter disappointment rested under my tongue. Was that her only response to how her husband was acting?
“Hola, Madre,” he responded warmly before separating from the embrace.
“Abuela needs X-rays, but they had to inject her first, so it’ll be a few hours before they can actually take the X-rays.
Personally, I thought your sister was fine on her own, seeing as she’s an adult, but I guess your father thinks otherwise.
” She gave her husband a look, one that I assumed evolved during a marriage.
I wouldn’t know. “I’m sorry about the trouble, I had no idea you were coming all the way here.
I am happy to see you, though, mi hijo guapo. ”
“It’s fine. I’m just caught off guard. If you needed a hand, you could’ve just told me, I would’ve come in less of a rush. Especially since I dragged Luna—” His words stopped, and he turned.
My back stiffened. “Hello.” I crafted a grin as everyone’s gazes landed on me.
“Luna!” Kieran’s grandmother gasped. She got up from the bed and wrapped her frail arms around me.
“It’s so amazing to finally meet you,” I said into her floral-scented hair. “Kieran’s told me so much about you.”
“I can only imagine what that included,” she snorted before pulling away, making room for Kieran’s mother to greet me.
“I can’t believe we’re seeing you in the flesh,” she beamed, taking hold of my arms. “The neighbors and I get together every week to talk about you and my son—it’s all anyone wants to talk about.
None of us knew much about tennis, but we’ve been following your matches.
You’re just as talented as Kieran says.” Her sweet tone warmed my heart, comparable to a stream of morning light coming through a clean window.
“All right, thank you, Mom, you can let go of her now.” His hand rested on my lower back. She let go of my arms and her husband extended his hand, not too dissimilar to what my own father would do.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Alexander.” I shook his hand firmly.
His brows furrowed and his eyes followed a path behind me before looking forward again. “Mr. Alvarez,” he corrected.
“Oh, my apologies.”
“We should get going,” Kieran spoke up, saving me from whatever awkwardness was about to fill the room.
His grandmother opened her mouth, but he got his words out first. “You can pester her with your questions when you get home.” Changing his focus to his mother, he said, “Let me know when you’re on your way back.”
This should be easy. I had already met his parents and grandmother, which, realistically, wasn’t in the most ideal place.
But the silver lining was that it couldn’t get more uncomfortable!
Yet, that didn’t calm the restless shake of my foot as Kieran pulled the car into the driveway.
His childhood home consisted of a white house with a red roof and an ocean for a backyard.
It didn’t settle during our silent drive and stop at his father’s restaurant either. Neither of us knew what to say. What was even allowed? I had so many questions. Questions about his last name. Questions about his relationship with his father. Questions about us.
But the idea of loading them all onto his shoulders made me flinch. Jeremiah’s voice rang in my ears. Stop badgering me.
The car door at my side clicked open. I jumped, not realizing that Kieran had stepped out of the car.
Before I could get out, he held on to the doorjamb and leaned in.
“I know we have a lot to talk about, and I want to talk about all of it, so much so that it’s eating away at me right now.
But I don’t want us to be cut off, and I’d prefer if we were alone—not surrounded by my family and their children. Is tonight all right?”
His words fizzed in my chest, settling low in my stomach, like the sweet hum of a saxophone.
Warm and rough. It could only be described as blush pink.
The same as my cheeks as I looked into his eyes, searching for some type of trick of the light.
But there was none. It was only him. No trick about it.
“That would be nice,” was all I said, gazing up at him. He was so close. All of him. Just as he was last night.
“I also feel that I should prep you for what’s inside. But, honestly, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to change what’s about to happen.”
“What’s about to happen?”
“You’ll see.”
He gave me his hand, and we crossed the pathway to the door. The ocean wind whipped my hair across my face. It made me long for the sand under my toes and saltwater in my palms.
The front door creaked as we entered a living room that looked over the beach. He announced, “Hello!”
Loud footsteps sounded as I closed the door, anxiously waiting for what was about to—