Page 48 of The Layover

She clasped it warmly between both of hers, and fired off another short string of Italian.

I looked to Raul for a translation, but all I got was him blushing.

“She wants to know if you’re the new mommy Eloise was talking about,” Diego supplied.

Raul responded to his mother, and I caught the word fingere—pretend—in reply.

She shook her head and patted the back of my hand, before saying something else.

Raul rolled his eyes. “She says it’s a shame it’s not real. You’d make a good mother.”

I most certainly would not. I kept the thought to myself, and just kept smiling.

“I did tell her to leave you alone. You’re a business contact,” Raul said.

All without me prompting. Good. Perfect. Fantastic.

Raul exchanged a few more words with his mother, gave her a hug, and sent her on her way. A short while later, he and Diego were ready to leave.

As they were walking out the door, I called out one more reminder. “Don’t forget to post the retraction-slash-clarification about the wedding today.”

“I’ve got it. Promise,” Diego said, and they were gone.

And I was alone with their six-year-old, and had no clue what to do first.

“Why are you wearing Daddy’s shirt?” Eloise tugged on the hem of said garment.

Well, fuck. That went downhill fast. “My own shirt got dirty, and he loaned me something so I could stay here with you, instead of having to go back to my hotel.” That was as close to the truth as could be.

Eloise shrugged. “Okay.”

My meetings with the people back home wouldn’t be until later today, so I would spend one-on-one time with Eloise this morning and give her Dad-approved screen time this afternoon during my calls. “What do you want to do first?” I asked. “Do you need breakfast?”

“Nonna fed me.”

“Do you want to color?” That should be an easy yes. Harmony loved to color, so I assumed all six-year-olds did.

Eloise shook her head.

“Do you want to play dolls?” I was rapidly running out of ideas.

“I want to make buildings, like Daddy does.”

Okay. I could do that. “Make them out of what?”

“Legos.”

“Lead the way.”

Eloise pulled me into her bedroom, told me which big buckets to drag out of the closet, and dumped piles of bricks on the floor. “Take those and put them together.”

I did as I was instructed, and she scowled.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Not like that.” She huffed and crossed her arms. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Her gruff voice and exasperation reminded me of Diego. It seemed she’d been watching him work.

Eloise grabbed all new bricks and started to build. Occasionally she would give me instructions, but it seemed I wasn’t up to her high-quality standards. The structure she created wasn’t quite as structurally sound as I would require from my clients.

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