Page 77 of My Spanish Love Affair

“I’m glad.” He pulls back slightly, his hands resting on my shoulders as he looks down at me. “Thank you for coming. Iknow this wasn’t easy for you.”

“It’s okay,” I say, though my voice wavers slightly. “I just - I wasn’t expecting it to be so...fancy.” I gesture vaguely around the penthouse, trying to smile. “It’s beautiful, though.”

“It’s just a place,” he says, his green eyes fixed on mine. “What matters is that you’re here. I needed to know you were safe.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my throat tighten, and I nod, unable to find the words to respond.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me further into his apartment. “Let me show you around.”

The tour is brief but impressive. There’s a spacious living room with a modern fireplace, a sleek kitchen with a huge island and marble countertops, and an office space and gym room. There’s a balcony that wraps around the entire penthouse, offering panoramic views of the city along with the floor-to-ceiling windows, along with three large bedrooms and en-suite bathrooms in addition to the main bathroom.

His home is absolutely incredible - jaw-droppingly so - but my nerves still hum beneath the surface as I follow Santi back to the living room. He motions for me to relax on the plush cream sofa, its cushions so soft that I sink into them the moment I sit down.

“What can I get you to drink?” he asks. “Water? Wine? Something stronger?”

“Wine would be perfect, thanks.”

He pours a glass of red, handing it to me before settling into the couch himself. His knee brushes against mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

I take a sip of my drink, letting the rich flavor settle on my tongue. I’m trying to stay calm and at least put on a good poker face, but no matter how hard I try to distract myself, mythoughts are still constantly swirling in the background.

Santi seems to sense it.

“You’re quiet,” he says gently. “Talk to me.”

I take a hearty sip of my wine before I set my glass down on the glass coffee table.

“This whole day has felt surreal,” I tell him. “I don’t even know where to start, honestly. I just… the only way I can really explain it is that I feel like my life isn’t mine anymore. Like I’ve been pulled into someone else’s world, and I don’t know how to fit into it. I don’t… I don’tbelongin it.”

“You don’t have to fit into anything,” Santi says. “It’s not about slipping into my world or forcing yourself to belong. You just need to be yourself. That’s all.”

“That’s so easy for you to say. Don’t you get it?” I sigh. “It’s a fucking nightmare, Santi. People see me differently now. My students aren’t even taking me seriously anymore! They aren’t focused in class because they’re spending half of the time laughing to themselves, and the rest of it, they’re either asking me ridiculous and borderline inappropriate questionsorthey’re muttering about you. My colleagues won’t speak to me properly, either - it’s like nobody knows what to say to me, so they’re all just avoiding me instead. The staff room literally goes quiet the moment I walk into it! And then -thenthere’s creeps like that photographer this morning. He knew my address, Santi. He knows where Ilive.Not only has my professionalism been compromised, but now I can’t even feel safe and comfortable in my own apartment.”

His jaw tightens as I come to an end of my enormous rant, and as I inhale a long breath, I catch a flicker of something unfamiliar in his green eyes.

Anger, I think, though it’s hard to know for sure since I’ve never seen it from him before.

“I hate that you feel this way,” he says. “I hate knowing that someone crossed that fucking line.”

This isn’t how I wanted this evening to pan out, and I cringe as I place my head into my hands. I don’t want Santi to blame himself for any of this - after all, it’s all things that are completely out of control. I just needed to be able to vent, to speak to him honestly about how I really feel and to be able to get it all off my chest.

I just hope it’s not immediately backfired.

“When I found out who you were… that you were in the spotlight, that you were an athlete, then I knew that dating you would come with some challenges. I guess I just completely underestimated how much the public - and the media - would actually care,” I admit. “I know that probably sounds really ignorant and awful of me, but I just… I didn’t know, Santi. I didn’t know how exposed all of this would make me feel. And I’m scared about it all, too. What if it doesn’t get better? What if I can’t handle it?”

Santi looks contemplatively down at his own drink as I shake my head from side to side.

“I’m sorry. I’m just word vomiting at you right now.”

Santi shifts closer, placing his drink down on the coffee table and taking my hands in his. His touch is warm, and as I tilt my chin upwards to look at him, his gaze notably softens.

“Do not apologise,” he begins, his words slow and steady. “You havenothingto apologise for. Okay?”

I nod my head to confirm my understanding.

“I wish I could promise you that this will all go away, but… I can’t. I can’t lie to you and say that there won’t be more days like this, because that is something that I do not have a say over. But what Icanpromise is that you’re not in this alone.Okay? I’m here for you, and I will do everything I can to make this easier for you, and to protect you.”

I swallow thickly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to fix everything for me.”

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