Chapter Twenty-Six
I turn the key in my apartment door and check three times that it’s definitely locked before I make my way down the stairs, out of the door and onto the street. My mind is already turned to the evening ahead, and I step into the taxi that’s waiting to take me into the city.
Whatever tonight brings, I’m ready for it.
Sarah is practically bouncing with excitement by the time that the taxi stops at her place to pick her up.
“You look amazing,” she says as she sits down beside me.
“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself,” I laugh.
Her grin widens when we reach the bar just a few minutes later, and she loops her arm through mine as we step out of the car.
“This is going to be good for you. Trust me.”
I’ve never been to this particular bar before, but it’s like many of the other authentic Spanish establishments that I’ve frequented over the past couple of months: cosy yet lively.
A few of my colleagues are already gathered in one of the booths that occupy the corner space, and they wave us over, smiling warmly as we approach.
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen everyone!” Sarah exclaims as we make our way over .
Our colleagues greet us with excitement and enthusiasm, standing within the booth so that they can offer us a quick embrace.
We exchange kisses on cheeks, and Sarah squeals in delight.
“Oh, look at you all! Marta, have you done something different with your hair?! And Ana, those earrings are gorgeous !”
Her presence is like a spark, instantly lifting the mood around as the group greet her with a familiar warmth. It’s clear how much they’ve missed her.
“Sarah! Liv!” Marta scoots over to make room, patting the seat beside her. “Come sit. We’ve already started on the first round, but don’t worry - the next one’s on me.”
“You’re just saying that because you know I’ll hold you to it,” Sarah teases, sliding into the booth with a wink.
Ana leans across the table as I settle in beside Sarah, her gold earrings catching the light as she beams at me.
“How have you been, Olivia? I’ve barely seen you at all recently. Where have you been hiding?!”
There it is: that slight edge of curiosity I’ve come to expect from everyone since my relationship with Santi became public knowledge.
ButAna’s tone is friendly, not prying.
Confident that I know her well enough to figure that she means well, I smile, determined not to let my nerves show.
“Busy,” I tell her. “You know how it is - endless lesson planning and trying to keep the advanced group from driving me insane before their final exams.”
“Oh, I bet they love you,” Ana laughs.
“They do!” Marta says. “No, honestly - I’ve overheard some of your students talking about you like you’re the coolest teacher in school.”
“That’s because she is ,” Sarah interjects, nudging me with her elbow. “Miss Bennett, role model extraordinaire.”
The table erupts into laughter, and I find myself relaxing more with each passing second.
“Enough about me,” I say, shaking my head as the laughter dies down. I might already know the answer to the question I’m about to ask given that we regularly keep in touch, but my colleagues don’t know that, and I want to take the heat away from myself. “Sarah, how are you holding up? How’s the little one?”
The mention of her daughter has Sarah’s face lighting up in a way that only mother’s do.
“Oh, she’s amazing,” she gushes. “I didn’t know I could love something so much and be so exhausted at the same time.”
Marta smiles warmly as she leans forward, though her eyes are wide with curiosity. “Is she sleeping through the night yet?”
Sarah snorts. “Not even close. She seems to think three a.m. is a perfectly reasonable time to be wide awake. But honestly? I don’t even care. One gummy little smile from her and it really does feel worth it. It’s much better now that she’s more interactive with us - laughing and smiling. It’s so cute.”
Ana rests her chin on her hand, smiling. “Do you have pictures? You must have pictures.”
“Oh, I have pictures,” Sarah laughs, pulling her phone from her bag.
The table gathers closer as she scrolls through her camera roll, showing off photos of her baby girl. There’s a picture of her sleeping in a tiny onesie when she was very first born, her little hands curled into fists; and another more recent one of her propped up on Sarah’s lap, her wide, dark eyes staring up at the camera.
“She’s beautiful,” Marta says.
“She really is,” Ana agrees. “And those cheeks ! I just want to squish them.”
Sarah beams, clearly basking in the attention. “She’s my little angel, even when she’s screaming bloody murder because there’s not a boob in her face the second she wakes up.”
The table laughs, and the conversation shifts to parenting stories. Marta shares a tale about her nephew trying to flush a toy down the toilet, and Ana recounts her friend’s toddler eating sand at the beach just a few days ago.
As the stories flow, I find myself smiling and laughing with them all, relaxing further with every moment that passes.
It’s so easy to forget the weirdness of these last few days when the attention isn’t on me.
“So,” Marta says, smirking as she leans back in her seat. “When are you going for number two?”
Sarah’s eyes widen, and she nearly chokes on her drink.
“Number two?! Let me get through this one first!”
The table erupts into laughter again, and Sarah shakes her head, though there’s a smile tugging at her lips.
“It’s so good to see you out again,” Ana says warmly. “We’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you all too,” Sarah replies, glancing around the table. “And honestly, I needed this. You can only talk to a baby about nappies, milk and sleeping for so long before you start to go a little crazy.”
“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Marta says, raising her glass. “To Sarah, and to finally getting out of the house!”
“To Sarah!” the rest of us echo.
∞∞∞
As the next round of drinks arrives, the atmosphere around the table becomes even livelier.
I glance around, taking it all in - the easy smiles, the way Marta throws her head back laughing at something Ana just said, the playful banter between two of the newer teachers about who’s worse at lesson planning…
It feels so normal , so easy and light and comfortable.
My phone buzzes on the table beside me, and I glance down to see a message from Santi.
How’s your night going, carino?
A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it.
“Someone looks happy,” Sarah teases, her eyes sparkling as she nudges my elbow.
I shake my head, trying to suppress my grin.
“It’s just Santi. He’s checking in.”
Ana leans forward, her curiosity barely concealed.
“What’s this?”
“Is this your boyfriend?” Marta adds. “Does he miss you already?”
I roll my eyes, though my cheeks flush. I hadn’t really wanted to bring Santi up, but given how easy and normal this feels… I kind of don’t want to hide him .
“It’s nothing like that. He just wants to make sure I’m having a good time,” I say.
After all, I don’t want to deny our relationship or hide my feelings for him. It’s not as though I’m pretending he doesn’t exist, or that he isn’t a big part of my life - that just wouldn’t be fair, and it wouldn’t feel right, either.
It’s just different, that’s all. A little weird, trying to find the balance.
“Uh-huh,” Marta says, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone’s smitten.”
The girls giggle at that, and despite myself, I can’t help but laugh along with them.
Still, if my boyfriend is smitten, he’s not the only one; so I type out a quick response to him.
It’s going well. Everyone’s been lovely. Miss you, though.
I hesitate before hitting send, the words feeling a tad too vulnerable. It doesn’t help that I’ve had a drink, but it’s hardly as if I’m saying something that’s crossing any boundaries, or that’s too out-there; so without doubting myself any longer, I press the button and send the message.
“So,” Sarah says, leaning in conspiratorially. She’s more than just tipsy, but I can hardly blame her given the fact that she hasn’t drank in so long. “Now that we’re on the topic - tell us what it's like dating Spain’s golden boy.”
The question catches me off guard, but her tone is warm and playful, not prying. She can probably sense that I want to talk about him - even if it’s weird.
“Honestly?” I say, swirling my drink. “It’s... amazing. He’s been nothing short of wonderful. But things are still complicated.”
Marta tilts her head, her expression curious. “Because of the media?”
I nod. “Yeah. The attention is just - overwhelming. People treat me differently now. It’s like they don’t see me as just Olivia anymore. They see me as his Olivia. If that makes sense.”
Ana reaches out, her hand warm and reassuring as it wraps around mine. “It does. And it sounds hard,” she says, her voice gentle but laced with genuine concern.
“I mean, I knew being with him would come with some challenges, but I don’t think I was prepared for how quickly everything would change,” I admit. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself in all of this.”
The table falls quiet, the hum of conversation from the rest of the bar suddenly seeming louder in the silence.
“But,” I continue, glancing down at my drink as I swirl the contents, “Santi’s worth it. He’s...”
I trail off, unsure of how to finish.
How do you even begin to describe someone like Santi?
Marta leans forward, her expression softening. “He’s what?” she prompts gently.
I smile faintly, meeting her gaze. “He’s just... everything . I know it sounds sappy, but he’s kind and thoughtful and patient. He treats me like I’m the most important person in the world, even when it feels like everything is falling apart.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Ana lets out a dreamy sigh.
“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
The group chuckles softly, but their laughter is kind, not teasing.
“Seriously,” Marta says, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “It sounds like you’ve found someone really special. ”
“I have,” I say. “Sometimes I wonder if I can do it, though. Honestly, I’m not sure that I’m strong enough to handle his world.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” Sarah says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve already handled so much, Liv, and you’re still standing. That says a lot about who you are.”
I blink, surprised by the sudden lump in my throat. “Thanks,” I murmur, giving her a small smile.
“And let’s not forget,” Ana adds, grinning. “You’ve got us in your corner, too. So if you ever need someone to remind the media to back off, just say the word.”
I smile easily at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“To Olivia,” Marta says, lifting her glass. “For navigating all of this with grace—and for finding someone who clearly adores her.”
“To Olivia!” the others echo, their glasses clinking together.
My cheeks flush, but I can’t help smiling as I raise my own glass.
As the conversation shifts back to lighter topics - funny classroom stories and travel plans for the summer - I glance down at my phone, my heart fluttering when I see another message from Santi.
Miss you more. Should I come pick you up later?
My smile widens as I quickly type out a response.
Maybe... I’ll let you know.
When I look up, Sarah is watching me with a knowing smirk.
“Marta’s right. That man is definitely smitten,” she says.
“Yeah,” I admit, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Although I think I might be, too.”
∞∞∞
It’s later on when I excuse myself to quickly go to the bathroom, the warmth of the drinks and the buzz of conversation still very much in full swing despite the late hour. The faint hum of music seeps in the bathroom from the bar, and as I’m washing my hands under one of the taps, a cheerful voice cuts through the quiet.
“I love your dress!”
Startled, I glance up and see a petite woman with dark curls standing a few sinks down, drying her hands on some paper towels. Her smile is warm - kind, even - and something about her tone and friendly expression immediately puts me at ease.
“Oh! Thank you,” I reply, smiling back as I turn my attention back to the sink.
“It’s beautiful,” she continues, leaning casually against the counter. “Where’d you get it?”
“It’s just from Zara,” I smile politely as I fumble with the soap dispenser. “I’m not exactly high fashion over here.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “Well, it doesn’t look like it, honestly. Although Zara is a lifesaver, isn’t it? They always have something cute.”
“Exactly,” I agree, drying my hands on a paper towel.
She tilts her head, studying me for a moment.
“I hope this isn’t weird,” she says hesitantly, “but... you’re Olivia, right? Olivia Bennet? ”
The question catches me off guard, but I nod, brushing it off. “Ah - yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry, have we met?”
“No, no,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ve just... seen your pictures online. You’re dating Santiago Ortiz, aren’t you?”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s me.”
Her eyes light up, and she steps a little closer. “Wow, I thought it was you! That’s incredible. He’s such a dreamboat. What’s he like in real life?”
“He’s... great,” I say as I lean against the counter. “Very down-to-earth.”
“I can imagine,” she says, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “So, how did you meet? Was it super romantic? Are you guys moving in together soon?”
Her questions come fast, one after the other. She’s caught me well and truly off-guard, and I chuckle, trying to deflect.
“Oh, nothing too dramatic. And no, we’re not moving in together. We’re just... taking things slow, moving at our own pace.”
“That’s so refreshing to hear,” she says, her smile widening. “You must get asked about him all the time, huh?”
I shrug, laughing lightly. “Sometimes. It’s still a little strange for me, to be honest.”
Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, I reach for my bag, preparing to leave as quickly as I can, but it’s then that I notice something odd.
My eyes narrow at the sight of a small device clipped to the waistband of her jeans.
It’s sleek and black, and a tiny red light blinks steadily on the top of it.
My smile falters.
“What’s that?”
Her face freezes for a split second, but she quickly recovers, brushing it off.
“Oh, this? It’s just a... work thing.”
My stomach tightens, the alcohol-induced haze lifting slightly as suspicion creeps in. “A work thing?” I repeat, my voice sharper now. “Are you recording me?”
Her smile wavers. “No! No, of course not. I wouldn’t -”
I cut her off, my pulse quickening. “Don’t lie to me. You’re recording this, aren’t you?”
She stammers, her cheeks flushing as she takes a small step back. “It’s just for... background! I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s nothing personal, really.”
“Nothing personal?” I snap, my voice trembling with anger. “You’ve been standing here pretending to be friendly, asking me all these questions, and you think it’s not personal ? Do you have any idea how invasive this is?”
Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
“Turn it off,” I demand, my voice firm.
She fumbles with the device, her hands shaking as she presses a button to stop the recording.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her tone suddenly meek.
“Just go,” I say through gritted teeth. “And don’t ever try something like this again.”
She scurries out of the bathroom without another word, her hurried footsteps echoing off the tiled walls. The door swings shut behind her, and suddenly the room feels eerily quiet .
I grip the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white as the adrenaline surging through me begins to ebb. In its place, a mix of anger, disbelief, and something I can’t quite name bubbles to the surface.
How could someone be so bold, so shameless? Pretending to be friendly, all the while trying to use me for a story?
I glance up at the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. My cheeks are flushed, my chest rising and falling quickly as I try to steady my breath. My hands are still trembling, and I let go of the sink to shake them out, willing the tension in my body to ease.
For a long moment, I just stand there, staring at myself. My mind replays the encounter over and over again. I feel shaken, overwhelmed by the confrontation and the intensity of my reaction.
My body is buzzing with energy, my heart racing as though it hasn’t quite caught up with the moment. I press a hand to my chest and exhale slowly.
Okay, just breathe.
It’s over now.
The door swings open suddenly and another woman walks in, barely sparing me a glance as she heads for one of the stalls. The interruption jolts me out of my thoughts, and I quickly move, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I head for the door.
As I step back into the noise and warmth of the bar, I can’t shake the feeling of unease clinging to me.
My colleagues are still gathered at the table, their laughter and chatter filling the space, blissfully unaware of what just happened. I plaster on a fake smile as I approach them, slipping back into my seat beside Sarah .
“You okay?” she asks, her brow furrowing slightly as she glances at me.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, waving her off. “Just... the line for the bathroom was longer than I thought.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue, either, turning her attention back to the conversation.
I reach for my drink, taking a sip to steady my nerves. The warmth of the alcohol spreads through me, but it does little to soothe the tension still thrumming in my chest.
As the evening carries on, I find myself quieter than before. I want to be present in the moment, but I can’t help but think about my encounter in the bathroom. I replay it over and over in my mind, dissecting every word until I can’t decide if I’m angry, embarrassed, or just plain exhausted.
The bar starts to empty as the night winds down, the hum of conversation growing softer as more people leave. I send a quick message to Santi as I glance around the table where my colleagues are still chatting and laughing, though their energy has noticeably mellowed.
After a few more minutes, Sarah nudges me gently. “You ready to go?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, reaching for my bag.
The group gathers their things, sliding out of the booth one by one. Marta yawns, stretching her arms over her head.
“I needed this,” she says, smiling around at everyone. “Let’s do it again soon, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Ana agrees as we head towards the door together.
“I think my taxi’s just down the street,” Marta says, squinting at her phone. “Olivia, do you need a ride? ”
Before I can answer, the low purr of an engine draws everyone’s attention.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud at his perfect timing.
The sleek black sports car pulls up to the curb right outside of the bar, and the driver’s side door swings open as Santi steps out, looking effortlessly put together in dark jeans and a long-sleeve fitted black shirt and dark jeans.
“Hi,” he says, his voice soft but carrying easily as his green eyes lock onto mine.
My colleagues fall silent, their eyes darting between the two of us with thinly veiled curiosity as Santi moves towards me, his easy smile widening as he takes my hand.
“You ready to go, carino?”
I nod, suddenly hyper-aware of the small audience we’ve gathered. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
He glances at the group, his expression polite but friendly.
“Hi,” he says, addressing them with a small wave. “I’m Santi. Olivia’s boyfriend.”
Marta recovers first, stepping forward with a bright smile. “Hi! I’m Marta. It’s nice to meet you.”
The others follow suit, each offering quick introductions. Santi shakes their hands, his demeanor relaxed and genuine.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Ana says, grinning. “Olivia keeps us on our toes with her stories.”
Santi chuckles, his eyes flicking to mine with a playful glint. “All good things, I hope.”
“Mostly,” Ana teases, making the group laugh.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” he says, his tone warm but laced with finality as he glances back at me. “Ready?”
I nod again, and he opens the passenger door for me. I slide into the plush leather seat, the scent of his cologne lingering in the car.
As I buckle my seatbelt, I catch a glimpse of my colleagues still standing on the curb, their expressions a mix of curiosity and quiet awe.
“Bye, Liv!” Sarah calls, smiling widely as she waves.
“See you Monday!” Ana adds, giving me a knowing smile.
Santi closes the door and walks back around to the driver’s side, slipping in beside me. The engine purrs to life, smooth and powerful as he eases the car away from the kerb and begins to drive us in the direction of his penthouse.
He glances at me as we come to a set of traffic lights, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Hey,” he says softly, leaning over just enough to press a quick kiss to my cheek. “Did you have a good time?”
I hesitate. “It was... eventful,” I tell him.
His eyes narrow. “What happened?”
I shake my head, forcing a small smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches over, his hand warm and steady as it finds mine.
“You know you can talk to me about things if they’re bothering you, right?” he says, his voice low and earnest. “Anything at all.”
I nod, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go. “I know. It’s just… yeah. I need some time to process. That’s all.”
“Okay,” he says softly, his hand returning to the steering wheel. “ So long as you know that whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”
I lean back against the seat, the hum of the engine filling the silence as we drive through the quiet streets.
Even as Santi’s presence soothes me, the lingering unease from the evening refuses to let go.
The bathroom encounter replays in my mind, the woman’s prying questions, the blinking red light of her recording device.
I tell myself I’ll be fine, that I handled it.
But the knot in my chest suggests otherwise.