Page 17 of Misbooked for Love

I smile, but my eyes fill with tears. I’m definitely over that breakup, but it did so much to my confidence that I’m not yet recovered.

“Come to find out, his college crush showed up to his hometown by a complete act of coincidence and, I don’t know, he saw a chance? Didn’t want to get confused, so he got rid of me, just like that.” I snap my fingers. “They got married, and she moved to his tiny small town, something we had never even discussed and I would have done in a heartbeat.”

“Shit,” he mutters as he reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“And every person I’ve dated since, for the past three years or so once I’ve decided to get back out there, has foundthe oneimmediately after they broke up with me. Some of them while we were together. So, like…get where I’m coming from? I never know if it’s real or not. If they’ve been seeing someone behind my back or they really aren’t that much into me, or never really loved me…”

“Oh, Jesus,” he adds, and pulls me towards him, our bodies colliding. “I’m so sorry.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest.

“It’s been a difficult few years,” I say with a sad smile. “And it’s been one after the other, and it’s hit me like a bag of bricks. So then, as you can imagine, I come here to this paradise on earth tofind myself,” I say as I roll my eyes, “and end up finding something—someone—else. And I’m so confused…”

“Same.” He chuckles, lifting his hand and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“You love her a lot,” I say softly, my voice filled with an understanding I didn’t have before.

“More than anything,” Tom replies, his voice rough. “She’s my whole world. But my job…it takes me everywhere. And I don’t want to be away from her, but I have to be, and it’s just… It’s a mess.”

“I get it,” I say, and I mean it.

Tom looks at me, his eyes searching mine, and for the first time, there’s no pretense, no walls. Just him, laid bare, struggling to keep it all together. “I didn’t mean to drag you like this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t plan for any of this.”

“Neither did I,” I say, and it’s the truth. I didn’t plan for any of this—this trip, this villa, this man who’s become so much more than a stranger sharingmy space. I take a step closer, closing the already small gap between us. “But I’m glad we’re here.”

Tom’s eyes soften and he cups my cheek. It’s a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, like maybe we can figure this out, even if my trip ends in six days. “So am I,” he says, his thumb brushing gently under my eye. “So am I.”

12

CLARA

The town isa vision of romance—heart-shaped garlands draped from every awning, twinkling lights illuminating the snow-dusted pathways, and couples bundled up, strolling hand in hand through the festive displays. It’s all so beautiful, and it should feel ridiculous, but tonight, with Tom by my side, it feels different. Almost perfect.

We walk through the town’s plaza, his hand resting gently on my lower back, guiding me toward the fancy restaurant nestled between the coffee shop and the bakery. It’s a small gesture, but it sends warmth spreading through me, easing the lingering tension from our earlier conversation.

The hostess greets us with a bright smile and leadsus to a table near the window, overlooking the slopes. The view is breathtaking, the mountains bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, and for a moment, I forget about everything that’s been weighing on me.

“This place is something else,” I say, slipping out of my coat and settling into the pink velvet bench. The room is softly lit, the table adorned with candles and rose petals, every detail meticulously planned to set the mood. “It’s like they went through a Valentine’s Day catalog and bought everything they could find.”

Tom chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that’s becoming far too familiar. “Yeah, it’s like Cupid exploded in here. But I guess they know their audience.”

I laugh, but it’s not just the decorations that are making my heart feel lighter. It’s him. It’s the way he’s looking at me, the easy conversation that’s flowed between us since we left the villa, and the quiet understanding we’ve started to build. It’s new and unexpected, but it feels good—like slipping into a warm bath after being out in the cold for too long.

A waiter appears, dropping off menus and lighting the small candle between us. Tom’s eyes flick to mine, and there’s a spark there that makes my pulse quicken. “So,” he says, picking up the menu, “what’s your poison? And please, for the love of god, don’t say jam on toast.”

I snort, glancing at the options. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.” He grins, and it’s infectious, making me feel lighter than I have in weeks. “I’m still shocked. Honestly, I’m not sure if I should call the authorities or try to convert you.”

“Well,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “if this dinner is just an elaborate scheme to make me eat more eggs, I’m going to be seriously disappointed.”

Tom’s laugh is low and genuine, and he shakes his head, setting his menu down. “I promise, it’s not. But I am going to order the French onion soup, because it’s the best thing on the menu, they say, and I refuse to let you leave this place without trying it.”

“Fine,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “Twist my arm. I’m always up for trying new things.” I’m not just talking about the soup, and I think he knows it.

We order our food, and as the waiter walks away, Tom leans in, resting his elbows on the table. “So, Clara Ledesma,” he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know. Something good.”

I hesitate, caught off guard by the directness of his question. It’s easy to forget that we’ve only just scratched the surface of each other’s lives, that there’s so much left to uncover. “I’m a flight attendant,” I say, but it comes out more like a confession. “Been doing it foryears. It’s kind of a family thing—my mom was one, my sister is one, too, and I guess it just felt natural. Plus, I like being in the sky, you know? Being up there, above everything.” I make a face. “And all the traveling is nice, too.”

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