CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Kaia
Asher and I were flying to Madrid tonight. It was barely ten a.m., and I was already exhausted from packing.
“Do I need these shoes?” I held up a pair of black heels as Alba stepped into my room. “Ash said we might go to some events.”
She scratched the back of her neck. “You know Spain has shops, right? Even if you forget something, you can buy it there.”
I dropped onto the bed and tossed the shoes onto a pile of folded sweaters in my suitcase. “I know. I think I’m getting flight jitters.”
“Nah. You’ve flown plenty of times. Lots with me.” She leaned on the doorframe. “Maybe you’re just nervous about your first vacation together.”
“No.” My groan betrayed me. “Maybe a little. I’ll see where he was born, where he grew up. I’ll meet his grandma.”
That was it. I sighed. “I’m scared she won’t like me. I’m tired of people being against us.”
Alba crossed the room and perched beside me. “Your father and his wife are the only ones with a problem. Like my dad says, No eres monedita de oro para caerle bien a todos—you’re not a golden coin to be liked by everyone.”
“Your dad is the best.”
“Careful.” Alba nudged me with her elbow. “If I tell him you said that, he might try to adopt you. Not that I’d say no to a sibling. The only downside is we’re not twins.”
I chuckled. “You’re like a dog with a bone, Albita. I already said no to twin kids. An even bigger no to dating twin brothers.”
“Well. If Asher has an older brother his mother hid from him…”
A shudder rolled through me. “I really hope not.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Asher, probably checking on my packing. He’d already told me not to stress about cramming everything into one suitcase.
“Oof,” Alba whispered.
My hand trembled as I saw the screen. Sharon. There was only one reason she’d call—something must’ve happened to my father.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Kaia,” she said. “I’m glad you answered.”
Her voice was calm. My father must be fine.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m in Emerport,” she said. “I hoped we could meet for a coffee.”
“A coffee?” The surprise slipped into my tone—she’d never offered that before.
Alba’s eyes went wide. Why, she mouthed.
“Yes. Please. I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
She’d never wanted to talk, not even when we lived under the same roof. If she asked something, it turned into ammunition later. Like the time she saw me writing in my diary and said she used to have one too. Two months later, she told my father about it.
Privacy meant nothing to Asher’s mother. I didn’t trust her.
“Talk about what?”
“It’s not a phone conversation.” A note of impatience edged her otherwise calm tone. “Coffee Land, Seaside Avenue. Thirty minutes?”
Curiosity won. “Okay. See you.”
As soon as I hung up, Alba worried her lip between her teeth. “That bodyguard friend of Asher’s—you should probably ask him to go with you. Or take me.”
I set the phone on the bed. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s about my father. She’s probably going to ask me to apologize.”
“Then she deserves an A for audacity. He’s the one in the wrong.”
“It’s whatever.” I stood. “She won’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”
***
The coffee shop buzzed with chatter, pop music playing just loud enough to blur conversations. Sharon sat at a window table, stirring the foam of her cappuccino in endless circles, gaze fixed outside.
My steps slowed as I crossed the room. On the walk here, I’d regretted saying yes at least ten times. Too late now.
When I reached her table, Sharon turned, her eyes sweeping over my face. “Kaia. I’m glad you came. Please, sit.”
Was she? What was so important it couldn’t be said on the phone?
I slid into the white wooden chair opposite her. “Why did you want to see me?”
She raised a hand for the server. “Let’s order for you first.”
The silence that followed pressed against my skin. With Asher, silence meant comfort. Here, it felt suffocating—like being trapped in a packed elevator.
When my cappuccino arrived, I took a sip and waited.
“I wasn’t happy with how things went at the gala,” she began. “For several reasons. Your father was very upset.”
Of course. Who else would this be about?
“No.” I shook my head. “He was rude. If you’re here to ask me to apologize, don’t waste your time.”
Her crimson nails traced the curve of her mug. “I’m not going to ask that. I’m going to ask you to think about whether being with my son is good for your future. You and I know you didn’t grow up together, but other people don’t.”
My pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. “So what? Why should I care what strangers know or think?”
“Because of rumors,” Sharon said. “Judgment. Are you ready for articles calling your relationship scandalous? Asher is a public figure, whether you realize it or not.”
“I can’t control what people say. That’s just gossip—doomscroll material. Should that make me feel bad?”
It didn’t. It wouldn’t. I wouldn’t give strangers that kind of power—not over me, and definitely not over us.
Sharon’s shoulders lifted and dropped beneath her gray jumper. “You think it won’t touch you, but no woman I know is that strong. Opinions always creep in. They always cut.”
“You didn’t care about opinions when you moved to the States to be with my father. You didn’t even care about your son’s.”
Her lips tightened. “I see you’ve been holding a grudge for a long time. That’s okay. Of course I cared about Asher’s opinion. But I also lost Sergio. It wasn’t only my son’s grief.”
Asher had carried that grief for years, like luggage too heavy to set down. And she’d traded it for another love in less than three months. Could she really compare the two?
“Maybe it wasn’t,” I said. “But if you think I’d leave the man I love because of what strangers say, then you don’t know what loving someone means.”
Sharon’s gaze flicked to the window. When it returned, it was icy. Belligerent.“Did you ever ask yourself why he pursued you?”
“The same reason you started dating my father. Love.”
She smirked. “I know my son. I’m sure he only wanted to wound your father by getting involved with his daughter. Your dad is a respectable team owner. The last thing he needs is his career overshadowed by gossip about his family.”
So that was it. She wanted me gone—not for Asher’s sake, not even for mine, but so she and my father could enjoy their spotless, fabricated image. No gossip. No scandal. Just more people lining up to kiss his ass.
My jaw ached from how hard I clenched it as I lifted my mug for another sip of lukewarm coffee.
“Please, think about what I’ve said,” Sharon pressed. “What you and Asher are doing is wrong. It’s driven you from your father, and my son from me.”
“My father and I were distant long before Asher,” I said, sliding my wallet from my purse. “And your son didn’t pull away because of me. If you want someone to blame, try the mirror.” I laid a few bills on the table and stood. “And Sharon?”
Her lips pursed. “What?”
“If you think our relationship is wrong, I’ve got a solution.” I held her gaze. “Look the other way.”
I slung my coat over my arm and walked out, head high.
***
Hours later, the plane hummed around me. Asher’s warmth at my side should’ve lulled me to sleep, but Sharon’s words kept replaying.
“Peque.”
I tore my gaze from the blinking wingtip light. “What?”
His lips curved into a smile. “Just wanted you to look at me instead of the window.”
“I always stare at you.”
“You could always stare more.”
“Sorry.”
The blanket rustled as he turned to face me. “What’s wrong?”
Dimmed cabin lights gleamed in his dark eyes. His hair was tousled from his nap after dinner, and all I wanted was to curl into him and forget his mother’s voice. But secrets had torn us apart once. I wouldn’t let them again.
“I met your mom for coffee today,” I said.
Asher’s hand cupped my cheek. “Why? What did she want?”
“To remind me that our relationship upsets my father.” I leaned into his shoulder. “And to tell me you pursued me just to hurt him.”
He scoffed. “She must really think everything revolves around him. No, peque. I didn’t pursue you because of him—back then or now.”
His breaths grew uneven. It hurt to see him upset, but it would’ve hurt worse to hide it from him. “I didn’t believe her,” I whispered. “She claims to know you, but she doesn’t.”
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple shifting. I brushed my fingertips over the stubble along his jaw. “I don’t want this to spoil our trip.”
“It won’t,” Asher said. “Remember that interview with the Spanish sports magazine I told you about?”
“What about it?”
“Come with me.” Asher laced his fingers through mine.
“They’ll be thrilled to run a spread with my girlfriend.
I didn’t pursue you because of Russell, and I won’t hide you because of him or my mother either.
I want everyone to know I’m with you. If anyone has a problem, they can fucking say it to my face. ”
“I’d love to,” I said.
All I wanted was to live my life with the person I loved—and be happy. If my happiness upset my father, it only proved what I’d suspected for years: he didn’t love me, not really.
His lack of affection used to break me, but time had carved out a new truth. I couldn’t change him. But I could refuse to keep swallowing his neglect. I could choose better for myself.