Chapter 12
Mia
“Carly!” I shout the moment I step into our bungalow. Diego and I spent way more time exploring his family’s estate than I anticipated, but the second I saw all those horses, I couldn’t help stopping to meet every single one of them.
Now I’m rushing to get ready for the wedding, but Carly’s nowhere to be found.
I head to her room. No light seeps from under the door. But I knock anyway. Nothing.
“Carly?” I ask again, softer this time, my knuckles tapping against the wood.
It’s way too late for her to be still volunteering. The thought that something might’ve happened makes my chest tighten. I’d never forgive myself.
I press my ear to the door. At first, there’s silence—then the faintest sound.
“Carly, I’m coming in,” I say before turning the knob. It’s not locked. Light from the living area spills across the room, outlining her silhouette on the bed. She has her knees pressed to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She’s rocking back and forth gently, as if she’s crying.
I take a step closer and come to a stop. I don’t want to scare her, but seeing her like this—distraught—is sending me into a state of panic I don’t have time for.
“Hey,” I whisper, climbing onto the bed and lying down across from her. “What happened?”
Carly wipes at her face, and in the soft light, I can see the tear tracks she missed. Her nose is red and irritated from all the wiping. When I glance at the floor, there’s a small mountain of crumpled tissues scattered around.
Good lord, how long has she been crying?
When she hands me her phone, I see a text thread.
And my eyes widen at the name on the screen.
River “Crabby” MacAllister: I wish I had the words to talk to you, but I never do. Many years ago a big part of me died and I became who I am today. A sour, grumpy, damaged man.
River “Crabby” MacAllister: Today my family is celebrating new traditions, thanks to my sisters’ husbands.
My brothers are jabbing at each other playfully.
My mom and Granny are laughing and having a great time.
And me? I’ve become invisible. It’s an art I’ve worked on for so long, I forgot how it was to be seen.
River “Crabby” MacAllister: But you do. You see me Dr. Martínez and I don’t know what to do with that.
River “Crabby” MacAllister: My mind wonders, who are you? Friend or Foe? Angel or Demon? Redeemer or Punisher? All or Nothing? Everything at once?
River “Crabby” MacAllister: That’s how fucked up I am and you deserve so much more than what this broken man can give…
River “Crabby” MacAllister: Merry Christmas, Dr. Martínez.
“Holy fucking shit,” I say, letting the phone fall onto the bed. What the fuck? Why did he text her that?
“Did something happen between you two that I don’t know about?” I ask, even though I’m positive something did—and that she won’t tell me. She never does. I’m actually surprised she even showed me the texts.
“It’s nothing. He just caught me off guard,” she says, but her eyes fill with unshed tears.
“Let me text Diego that I’m staying in. We can order food and watch 27 Dresses, like old times.” That movie was always our go-to whenever one of us was sad or upset.
“No way. You’re going out with him tonight,” Carly says, her voice slipping into that older-sister tone.
I sigh, frustration and sadness twisting together in my chest. “Why do you never let me be there for you? Why can’t I take care of you the way you’ve always taken care of me?”
She closes her eyes, tears slipping down and soaking into her pillow.
“Carly, let me in. I’m not a kid anymore. I want to be here for you.” My throat tightens, and my eyes sting with tears that I refuse to let fall.
“If you love me—and if you want to make me happy—you’ll go out with Diego. You’ve had such a great time with him. I don’t want you to waste a single minute here with my sour ass. Go have fun, baby sister.”
I know she won’t change her mind. She never does.
“At least let me reply and tell him to go to hell.”
A small laugh escapes her, and for a second, the heaviness in the room lifts. “Naw. He doesn’t deserve a reply.”
She sits up, and I follow.
“Mia, don’t waste your life for me. Go out and have fun. We’ll be back in good ol’ Azalea Creek before you know it.” She gives my hands a reassuring squeeze.
I smile, but it’s fake.
I know I’m living a dream, a fantasy. But when Carly mentions the town we call home, something inside me twists. For the first time, I don’t want to go back.
For a moment, I let myself imagine a life with Diego outside this tropical bubble. That’s why we made the no-falling rule in the first place. But when he looks at me like I’m all he sees, it’s impossible not to.
“You’re right,” I say softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I need to enjoy this while it lasts.”
I pull the comforter over her once she’s lying down again, tucking it around her shoulders before slipping quietly from the room.
I close her bedroom door, wishing I could also close this chapter of my life—the one where I still feel like I can’t do anything on my own.
After my talk with Carly, I decide to focus on the present and enjoy whatever hours I have left with Diego. I’m not sure how much longer he’s staying on the island, and even though he keeps hinting at the future, we made a pact. I’m not falling for the most amazing man I’ve ever met.
He might be completely different in the real world. We’re both on vacation—things tend to feel different when you’re somewhere beautiful and happy.
When I hear a knock at the door, I bolt to open it, not wanting to disturb Carly if I can help it.
“Mia, you take my breath away,” Diego says, a glint of heat in his eyes.
He looks delicious, as always—dark khaki pants, a navy jacket, a crisp white shirt. The shadow of a beard makes him look a tiny bit older—and, who am I kidding? Even hotter.
“You don’t look so bad, yourself,” I say, closing the distance between us. Like magnets, our lips meet, molding together in a kiss.
I could live in this man’s arms. The way he holds me with such tenderness, yet his strong muscles are like a protective blanket. And to think I might only have one more day with him. I just need to keep reminding myself: focus on the present.
“No, seriously, baby—you look incredible. That dress hugs you in all the right places.” His gaze drags over me slowly, like he’s a hunter and I’m his prey. “Now that I think about it, I’m jealous of this fucking dress,” he murmurs against my ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
“Stop it right now, or we’re not going to make it to the wedding,” I warn, breathless.
Diego growls low in his throat, and the sound nearly has me panting and ready for him.
“Diego,” I try to scold, but my voice comes out airy, and he smirks.
“I know how important your family is to you,” I tell him. “Let’s go to the wedding, and if you behave, I’ll let you have your way with me later.”
“Deal,” he says instantly, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door.
I laugh, following him out of the bungalow.
I’d follow him anywhere.
And that thought alone terrifies me—because I shouldn’t feel this much for a man I’ve only known a couple of days.
I can’t help but let my mind wander as we walk around the resort.
We had such a fantastic day—putting up the tree and the nativity, eating tamales made from my family’s recipes (I still can’t believe Diego asked Carly for it), and then the cherry on top: riding horses by the beach.
I don’t even have words for how magical this time with him has been.
“Where’s that pretty head of yours?” he asks, pulling me back to the present.
I smile, trying not to let him see the jumble of emotion I have for him. “Nowhere really, just enjoying the breeze.”
He lifts an eyebrow, clearly not buying my bullshit answer.
“Oh wait,” he says suddenly. “Wasn’t Carly supposed to come with us?”
I exhale, relieved for the change of subject. “Yeah, but when I got back, she’d gotten texts from her guy back home, and she wasn’t in the mood to go out.”
“Her guy?”
“It’s complicated,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m 1,000 percent sure they have a thing for each other, but they’re always at each other’s throats.” I grin, remembering the way Carly’s face lights up—and then immediately scowls—every time she sees River.
“Enemies to lovers, huh?” Diego drawls, amusement dripping from every syllable.
I frown, amused.
“What? You don’t read romance?” he says, like it's the most normal thing in the world.
“I do, but I didn’t peg you for a romance reader,” I shoot back. “Didn’t think a big-shot millionaire had time to read smut.”
Diego cackles, and I shake my head. This man’s got jokes.
We make it to the ceremony just in time. I barely get a glimpse of the beautiful decorations before Diego steers us toward the back row, trying not to draw attention since the groom is already at the altar—but a woman wearing a headset and an expression that means business intercepts us.
“Mr. Grosso, you and your plus-one have seats in the third row—next to the rest of the extended family,” she says quietly, gesturing us forward.
I duck my head, cheeks heating as several people turn to face us. The last thing I want is to take the focus away from the bride. Hopefully, she won’t be too upset about our last-minute entrance.
Diego takes the open seat beside a man who looks a lot like him—I’m assuming it's one of his brothers—and I slide into the seat next to him.
“Fernando, this is Mia—my…” Diego pauses, just for a second, before adding, “my plus-one.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice that shouldn’t make my stomach flip, but it does.
Still, my face burns at the fact that he had to think about how to introduce me. And when Fernando snorts, the embarrassment hits full force.
“What’s so funny?” Diego asks, his tone suddenly ice-cold.
I grab his hand and squeeze hard, a silent plea for him to take a breath. I don’t want to cause a scene.
“Whoa, calm down, little brother,” Fernando says, his tone mocking. “I just thought you were going to introduce her as your wife.”
The woman beside Fernando shushes him just as the music fills the room.
A spotlight lands on the musicians, elegant in their tuxedos and gowns. As they launch into the wedding march, the opulence of the whole scene steals my breath.
Everyone rises, and Violeta appears at the end of the aisle, looking like a dream Barbie. Her dress is gorgeous—a white tulle gown scattered with tiny diamonds that catch the light as she walks. The deep V-neck corset hugs her body perfectly, and her long veil glitters with the same delicate gems.
When she and her father reach the groom, the men exchange a few words. Then, as the bride and groom finally stand together, he leans in for a kiss—but she pulls back with a teasing smile and shakes her head. The crowd laughs, and I breathe a little easier, feeling Diego relaxing next to me.
The officiant begins speaking about the happy couple and how love is “palpable.” I don’t know them, so I tune out, letting my gaze drift around the venue.
The soft colors and delicate details make everything feel like a fairy tale.
Tall floral arrangements are strategically placed throughout the venue, creating a sense of an enchanted forest within the room.
Before I know it, they’re exchanging vows.
A low murmur ripples through the crowd as the groom pulls a rumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket.
Diego takes my hand in his, resting them both on his lap.
Butterflies run wild in my belly as he recites the traditional vows in my ear.
I close my eyes and let his words seep into my soul.
He knows I’m a sure lay—I told him as much when he picked me up earlier. But no one recites vows just to get someone into bed. Right?.
I need to believe these magical days are real—and that somehow, we’ll make it work when we’re back in the States.
As the bride and groom are pronounced husband and wife, I tilt my head up to kiss Diego’s jaw—right as he leans down to kiss me. Pure kismet.
While the newlyweds are ushered toward the beach for photos, Diego and I linger at cocktail hour. This time, he takes me to chat with his parents. Both greet me with warm smiles, engaging me in conversation like I’ve always been part of their circle.
“So, Mia, do you live in the States? Or are you local?” Diego’s mom asks as he’s pulled aside by his dad and brothers.
“I live in North Carolina,” I say, as my eyes follow Diego across the room. He seems frustrated, his gaze flicking toward me more than once.
“Oh, that’s good. Not too far from Massachusetts,” his mother replies warmly. “I’m sure you and Diego will find a way to stay in touch once everyone’s back home.”
I nod and take a slow sip of champagne. The bubbles burn my throat as they go down. It feels wrong to talk about future plans with her when Diego and I haven’t even had this conversation yet.
A few of the other women in the family join us, their laughter filling the space, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Diego. His expression hardens with each passing second, irritation tightening his jaw.
“He’ll be alright,” Eva—the mother of the bride—says, noticing my worry. “They just learned that the deal they were hoping to close in Chile early next year might fall through unless they go in person to make a counteroffer.”
A dozen thoughts race through my mind.
“And he got the short end of the stick,” I say quietly.
Eva chuckles softly. “You’re a quick learner.” She clinks her flute against mine, and although I smile, my stomach sinks. I can already see what’s coming.
If she’s right, Diego will have to leave for Chile. Which means I’ll be heading home—alone—and without ever having talked to him about the vows, about us, about anything.
Movement catches my eyes, and before I realize it, Diego’s crossed the short distance between us. His presence is sudden but steady, the heat of him pressing close enough for his breath to brush my skin.
“Bonita,” he whispers against my neck as the rest of the men approach our circle.
I give him a tight smile, hoping it’s enough to hide the ache rising in my throat.
He frowns. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, of course,” I lie smoothly. “I’m just a little nervous being around your entire family, and I haven’t even spoken with Violeta yet. I just hope I don’t ruin her day when she sees me here.”
It’s not a total lie. Although I’m nervous about his niece causing a scene, that’s not what’s twisting my insides.
“Don’t worry about her,” he says, resting a hand on my shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk to her later. Right now, I want us to go grab some food, enjoy ourselves, and dance.” His eyes sparkle, full of easy joy.
I swallow and return his smile, trying to make it look real. If he doesn’t bring up the fact that he has to leave, I won’t bring it up either.
Maybe that’s for the best.