The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas (the mitten read aloud TXT) 📗

“Neighbor’s cat?” Rosie looked everywhere but at Aaron or me, her cheeks turning pink. “Her neighbor Bryan, yeah. Yes, that’s it. Bryan’s cat. Mr. … Cat.” She shook her head.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed further and then jumped to me. He searched my face as my friend stuttered through her obvious lie.

“Lina is taking care of Mr. Cat this week because Bryan’s grandma is sick and he’s out of town. You know how much Lina loves to help.”

I nodded my head slowly, as if Rosie’s gibberish had made any sense.

“Aren’t you allergic to cats?” Aaron asked, shocking the hell out of me.

“I am.” I blinked. “How do you …” I cleared my throat. I don’t care. I shook my head. “It’s a hairless cat.”

His hands slipped in his pants pockets, taking a moment to assess that. “A hairless cat.”

“Like in Friends,” I said, trying to sound as casual as I could. “Rachel’s cat. A Sphynx.” I watched Aaron’s face, not a sign showing that he knew what I was talking about. “You live in New York, and you are American, yet you haven’t watched Friends?” Nothing there. “Ever? Oh, never mind.”

Aaron stayed silent, and I pretended he hadn’t caught us in a blatant lie.

“Okay, phew,” my friend said, gifting us with a wide and toothy grin. The fake one. “I really need to go talk to Héctor.”

She looked at me apologetically. I stood up, too, scared of being left behind to explain more about Mr. Cat.

“Thank you, Aaron, for coming to get me. That was very”—she glanced at me quickly—“very kind of you.”

I rolled my eyes.

Rosie elbowed me softly. “Wasn’t it, Lina?”

She probably thought she was being clever. She wasn’t.

“The kindest,” I said with a clipped tone.

“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Rosie rushed toward the staircase, leaving us behind.

An awkward silence surrounded Aaron and me.

He cleared his throat. “Catalina—”

“What’s that, Rosie?” I cut him off, pretending my friend was calling for me. Coward, I thought. But after everything that had gone down today and having to relive our rocky start during my conversation with Rosie, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to Aaron. “Oh, you are holding the elevator door for me, you say?” I shot after my friend, not paying attention to how Aaron’s lips had pressed in a flat line as I left him behind. “I’ll be right there!” Then, I turned one last time, quickly glancing over my shoulder. “Sorry, Blackford, I gotta go. You can send me an email maybe? Yes? Okay, bye.”

When I turned my back to him, Rosie came into view. She was repeatedly pressing on the call button for the elevator.

“Rosalyn Graham!” I called after her, willing my head not to turn and check on the pair of blue eyes I was sure was drilling holes in my back.

Chapter Five

You knew the universe didn’t like you all that much when, after an exhausting week that had been crowned with a catastrophic Friday, it started pouring down the minute you stepped out of the office.

“Me cago en la leche,” I cursed under my breath, looking out through the glass of InTech’s massive entrance door and taking in the dark clouds crowding the sky, rain falling from it almost violently.

Pulling up my phone, I checked the Weather app and discovered that the summer storm would probably hover over Manhattan for a couple more hours.

Perfect, just perfect.

It was already past eight in the evening, so staying in the office to wait out the rain wasn’t an option. I needed my bed. No, what I really needed was a can of Pringles and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. But that wasn’t a rendezvous I would be having today. Instead, I’d probably trick my stomach with whatever leftover veggies I had in the fridge.

A thunder rumbled somewhere nearby, returning me to the ugly present.

The rainfall increased, now gusts of wind veering the falling water from one side to the other.

Still in the safety of InTech’s entrance hall, I extracted from my bag the light cardigan I wore in the chilly building and covered my head with it in hopes that it would somehow act as a barrier between the rain and me. Thankfully, the bag I had grabbed that morning, even if not the prettiest, was waterproof.

Looking down at my beautiful and brand-new suede loafers—which, contrary to my bag, were gorgeous and unfortunately not resistant to water—I took in their pristine state one last time. “Farewell three-hundred-dollar shoes,” I told them with a sigh.

And with that, I pushed the glass door and stepped out into the dark and wet evening as I held my cardigan over my head.

It took me about five seconds under the rain to know that by the time I got to the C Line, I’d be completely and absolutely drenched.

Fantastic, I thought as I speed-walked under the unforgiving downpour. I only have a forty-five-minute commute to the part of Brooklyn I live in anyway. Time I’d spend soaked to my bones.

As I turned the corner of the building, another thunder roared somewhere above me, the rainfall increasing and turning my pace slower and clumsier, while more water fell heavily on top of my useless cardigan umbrella.

A gust of wind stuck half my hair to my cheek with a wet smack.

Trying to get the wet locks out of my face with my elbow, I kept hopping around, realizing quickly how bad of an idea that was.

My right foot slipped on a puddle, sliding forward, as my other leg remained rooted to the sidewalk. My hands, still holding the cardigan, whirled in the air as I fought to keep my balance.

Please, please, please, please, universe. My eyes closed, not wanting to bear witness to my own fate. Please, universe, don’t let this horrible week end this way.

My foot drifted one more inch as I held my breath before coming to a miraculous stop.

I opened my eyes. My legs were close to doing a split, but I was