Page 88 of My Spanish Love Affair

Maybe... I’ll let you know.

When I look up, Sarah is watching me with a knowing smirk.

“Marta’s right. That man is definitely smitten,” she says.

“Yeah,” I admit, unable to keep the smile off my face. “AlthoughI think I might be, too.”

∞∞∞

It’s later on when I excuse myself to quickly go to the bathroom, the warmth of the drinks and the buzz of conversation still very much in full swing despite the late hour. The faint hum of music seeps in the bathroom from the bar, and as I’m washing my hands under one of the taps, a cheerful voice cuts through the quiet.

“I love your dress!”

Startled, I glance up and see a petite woman with dark curls standing a few sinks down, drying her hands on some paper towels. Her smile is warm - kind, even - and something about her tone and friendly expression immediately puts me at ease.

“Oh! Thank you,” I reply, smiling back as I turn my attention back to the sink.

“It’s beautiful,” she continues, leaning casually against the counter. “Where’d you get it?”

“It’s just from Zara,” I smile politely as I fumble with the soap dispenser. “I’m not exactly high fashion over here.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Well, it doesn’t look like it, honestly. Although Zara is a lifesaver, isn’t it? They always have something cute.”

“Exactly,” I agree, drying my hands on a paper towel.

She tilts her head, studying me for a moment.

“I hope this isn’t weird,” she says hesitantly, “but... you’re Olivia, right? Olivia Bennet?”

The question catches me off guard, but I nod, brushing it off. “Ah - yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry, have we met?”

“No, no,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ve just... seen your pictures online. You’re dating Santiago Ortiz, aren’t you?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s me.”

Her eyes light up, and she steps a little closer. “Wow, I thought it was you! That’s incredible. He’s such a dreamboat. What’s he like in real life?”

“He’s... great,” I say as I lean against the counter. “Very down-to-earth.”

“I can imagine,” she says, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “So, how did you meet? Was it super romantic? Are you guys moving in together soon?”

Her questions come fast, one after the other. She’s caught me well and truly off-guard, and I chuckle, trying to deflect.

“Oh, nothing too dramatic. And no, we’re not moving in together. We’re just... taking things slow, moving at our own pace.”

“That’s so refreshing to hear,” she says, her smile widening. “You must get asked about him all the time, huh?”

I shrug, laughing lightly. “Sometimes. It’s still a little strange for me, to be honest.”

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, I reach for my bag, preparing to leave as quickly as I can, but it’s then that I notice something odd.

My eyes narrow at the sight of a small device clipped to the waistband of her jeans.

It’s sleek and black, and a tiny red light blinks steadily on thetop of it.

My smile falters.

“What’s that?”

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