Page 24 of The Layover

9

Carly

I didn’t mind kids—other people’s kids—but I’d never wanted my own. However, Eloise performing a fake wedding ceremony was more aww-inspiring than puppy videos.

As she brushed past us, Raul grabbed her wrist and swung her into his arms in a single, fluid motion. She squealed in delight. He leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

Kissing the bride, I got it, but I was still disappointed it wasn’t more.

Diego gave me a similar kiss, and moved his mouth to my ear. “She thinks real kisses are gross,” he whispered.

Ah. When they were done by the wrong guy, they certainly were. I wasn’t worried about that here.

Eloise squirmed in Raul’s arms. “Daddy, I want to go home.”

“We probably should.” He gave me an apologetic look.

“No worries. I need to head out anyway.” Not because I had anywhere to be, but because these were one of our clients, and I needed to remember this was a professional agreement. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t ready for the night to end.

Eloise screeched at a cringeworthy volume. “No. She’s my new mommy. She has to come home with us.”

“Pretend.” Raul held her tighter.

This was the point in the evening where the kid got tired, and I was happy to send them home with their parents.

So why was I considering heading back to their apartment with them?

“I’ll walk you out to grab a cab,” Diego said.

Eloise pouted. “I want Carly to tuck me in.”

Was my heart breaking? No, because I was an ice queen, and a little girl on the verge of a tantrum didn’t change that.

“Carly’s going back to her hotel,” Raul said.

I leaned into Diego and muttered, “I don’t mind. I can stroll back with you if you’d like.” Was my heart melting? It was clear these men spoiled their girl, but how they raised her was up to them. And I liked the excuse to hang around a little longer.

“Daddy D.” Eloise huffed.

Diego glanced at me, and sighed. “Carly will tuck you in, but you have to remember she doesn’t live with us. She’s not staying.”

“Okay.” Like that, Eloise’s pout was gone. She twisted free of Raul’s grip, landed on her feet, and ran up to my side. When she grabbed my hands, hers was so tiny. She tugged me toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

“Do we need to grab anything?” I asked Raul.

He shook his head. “It can all stay here.”

We headed out, he locked up, and we were on our way. Milan at night was as gorgeous as during the day. Streetlamps lit the blend of old and new, highlighting stone in the buildings and on the sidewalks. Architecture older than my entire country towered above us, and there were as many people walking around us as there were cars on the road.

The sounds, the scents, it was all like being in a fairytale.

Eloise held my hand tightly, and pointed out all her favorite places along the way. By the time we reached their apartment, I knew where the best places were to play, get ice cream, and who had the yummiest pastries.

Honestly, the important stuff. Maybe I needed six-year-olds as a tour guide more often.

I envied the architecture of the building they lived in. The stonework, the color, and the warmth and history it radiated. They were on the top floor, in a loft with an expansive skylight that let the stars shine down on them from the velvet sky.

“I’ll give you the tour,” Diego offered for the second time tonight.

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