Page 137 of My Spanish Love Affair

It’s not a rushed kiss, not desperate or hurried or impatient. Instead, it’s slow, almost reverent - like he’s memorising the words I’ve just said through touch alone.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips.

“I love you too. You know I love you more than anything in this world.”

My chest tightens, overflowing with something so big, so profound, that I think I might float away from it.

And as Santi pulls out onto the road, one hand still gripping mine, I know, without a doubt, that this -he- is home.

And I’m never looking back.

Chapter Forty-One: Epilogue

The last bell of the school year rings, echoing through the corridors like a final farewell.

A split second later, the halls erupt into chaos. Cries of excitement, the stomping of feet and the rustle of backpacks slung over shoulders fill the air, as doors fly open all through the long corridors.

The students spill from classrooms in waves, and I lean against my desk, watching as my students say their goodbyes.

A few of them stop by my desk, offering shy smiles and thank-yous, while others linger in the doorway, hesitating as if they aren’t quite ready to leave just yet.

“Profe - we’ll miss you!”

I press a hand to my chest, feigning exaggerated emotion. “You better! Now go make me proud.”

They laugh and wave as they disappear down the hall until they’re eventually swallowed by the crowd.

I take a slow breath, glancing around my now-empty classroom. The posters on the walls look a little more faded, the desks a little more scuffed from restless hands tapping and feet kicking beneath them.

It won’t be empty for long, though. In just a couple of weeks, my summer languages programme will start, bringing in anew set of eager students.

It’ll be a change of pace - smaller classes and a more relaxed atmosphere - but I’m excited all the same.

By the time I make it home, the exhaustion is beginning to settle in, but before I can even collapse onto the couch, my phone buzzes with a message from Santi.

Hope your last day went well, my love. How does dinner at my place sound? I’ve got something to talk to you about.

I bite my lip, a flicker of curiosity sparking at his message. Since the season ended a couple of weeks ago, I can’t help but notice how Santi has been a little...vague. I’ve picked up on the talk of some kind of transfer opportunity potentially coming his way - something big - but every time I’ve asked about it, he’s brushed it off like it’s nothing.

Hopefully, this suspiciously vague news will provide some clarity on what’s been going on behind the scenes.

Without hesitating for a moment longer, I grab my bag and head over to his place, my curiosity growing with each step.

∞∞∞

Santi is in the kitchen when I arrive, barefoot and effortlessly at ease as he moves around, putting the finishing touches on dinner. The smell of garlic and herbs fills the air, and my stomach rumbles in appreciation.

“You cooked?” I tease, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as I take in the sight before me.

He’s currently hovering over the stove, effortlessly flipping something in a pan. The sleeves of his shirt have been rolledup to his elbows in order to reveal his thick forearms, and he smirks over at me as he tosses a kitchen towel over his shoulder.

“Careful, princesa. I might take offense.”

I arch a brow as I step further into the kitchen space.

“I’m just saying that it’s been a while since you made me a real dinner,” I say, gesturing towards the pan.

“I’ve been busy, Liv. Didn’t you know this already?” he teases.

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