Page 125 of My Spanish Love Affair

For a second, I wonder if I’ve heard him right, but the sparkle in his green eyes tells me he’s serious.

“Leaving?” I repeat, my voice still a little hoarse from the exhaustion of a long school day.

Santi stands in front of his kitchen island, casual and unbothered as he leans back against the marble worktop. The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting warm hues of orange and pink through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him.

“You heard me. Pack a bag,” he repeats, his voice smooth, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re going away for the weekend. Just you and me.”

My brows furrow, and I glance around, taking in the stillness of his beautiful apartment.

“Wait…now?” I ask, momentarily flabbergasted. “But I just got here. And I still have work to look over -”

“Exactly. That’s why we need to go. You’ve been working so hard.Toohard. If I had it my way, you’d do nothing at all tocause you stress or worry, and I figured we could both use a break. So…” He pauses dramatically, tilting his head to one side, green eyes practically glinting with mischief. “As I said: pack a bag, princesa. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” I press, though I already know the answer.

One thing I have come to quickly learn about Santiago Ortiz: this man is never one to give away too much too soon.

“Ah, the mystery,” he teases, clearly enjoying this little game. “You’ll see.”

I roll my eyes playfully, but the thought of a weekend away - no responsibilities, no stress, no endless stack of marking work,andin the company of my gorgeous boyfriend - is admittedly appealing.

Perhaps Santi’s right. I have felt like I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, and my short trip to England wasn’t much of a break away given the emotional rollercoaster I was on at the time.

“Okay, okay,” I say, setting my work bag down next to the coffee table before turning toward his bedroom. “You win. I’ll pack some things. You’re lucky you’re cute, you know.”

He laughs; an easy, low sound that has a way of making the tension in my shoulders slip away.

“I love the flattery. But seriously - pack light. We won’t be gone long.”

I glance over my shoulder to where he has followed me and is now casually leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom.

“And you’re going to leave me guessing the whole way there?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I reach into the drawer he had cleared out just for me. I begin to gather some of my clothes into a small duffle bag that I keep here for emergency purposes.

“Yes, but you’ll love it. Trust me.” His grin deepens. “You always do.”

I can’t help but smile affectionately at how easily he’s turned this into some grand adventure. Despite my best efforts to play it cool, a rush of excitement bubbles up inside me.

I’m not a spontaneous person by nature - more of a meticulous planner and extreme worrier, honestly - but there’s something irresistible about the thought of heading out on an unexpected trip with him.

I throw a few light pieces of clothing, swimwear, underwear and toiletries into the bag before I return to the living room. He’d moved from the doorway and I find him scrolling through his phone, no doubt already halfway through the task of organising our getaway.

“You’ve got the world’s worst poker face,” I say as I zip up the duffle bag and approach him.

Santi looks up at me, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not fooling me,” I reply, crossing my arms. “I know you’re up to something.”

He stands up straight, tossing his phone onto the couch and pulling me into a quick hug.

“It’s a surprise, Liv,” he says as his hands settle down to either side of my waist. “You’ll thank me later. At least, I hope you will.”

I give him a mock glare. “Hmm. I’m not so sure I trust your judgement.”

“Well, you’ll have to just wait and see,” he responds, his voice warm and teasing. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take the bait I’ve thrown. “Don’t ruin the surprise.”

“Alright. I’ll try and be patient,” I say, kissing him quickly on the lips before stepping out of his hold.

He smirks as he lets me go, watching as I take out my own phone in order to update Sarah on my whereabouts for the weekend (which are, of course, unknown). After all, the last thing I need is her thinking I’ve been kidnapped, or something.

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