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It’s nine a.m. here, which means it’s five p.m. in Australia.

There’s still time.

I drink water from the bottle I left on the coffee table and collapse back down onto the couch. I have no desire to go anywhere or do anything, even though I know I’m going to have to leave at some point.

I’ve muted messages from Roman, because I know there’ll be a dozen. I can’t face him or Darya right now.

Abby’s is the only number set to get through my phone’sDo Not Disturbfilter.

I need to get through this day, then start planning the rest of my life. After today, there’ll be no more indulging in memories, in torturing myself with what could have been.

So until I actually have to leave, I intend to make the fucking most of my memories while there’s still some kind of chance.

I turn my face to the couch and lose myself in the sweetness of the past.

Malaga, Spain

Two Years Ago

I’m sittingin my car, on the phone to Roman, watching Abby through the glass window of the Malaga café.

She’s packing up at the end of her shift. When some of the African street hawkers begin stacking her outside tables, she waves and smiles with such open delight that I find myself smiling back, even though she can’t see me.

I watch as she insists on filling the men’s water bottles, then putting a foil tray of leftovers on the counter for them to take. One of the hawkers offers her a pair of sunglasses from his sale board, and she waves him away, laughing. He insists,shaking his head when she tries to pay him. Finally she puts the glasses on and poses like a model, to everyone’s mutual hilarity. I don’t miss the money she stealthily tucks beneath the foil covering on the tray as she waves them goodbye.

I never tire of watching these exchanges. Whether it’s slipping a leftover pastry to the homeless man down the street or a surreptitious free coffee to someone who looks a bit down, I can’t count how many times I’ve seen Abby make people smile.

I’ll go inside eventually. But I take a secret delight in watching these small acts of kindness before she realizes I’m here. It’s like a glimpse into an inner Abby, a soft part of her that lives somewhere beyond the sass and tough exterior she shows the world.

Not to mention the delicious sense of anticipation I get from looking at her long legs and perfect ass.

“Dimitry.” Roman’s voice crackles impatiently through my phone. “I said, are you still there?”

“Uh-huh,” I say, not really listening to him. “Yeah.”

I love watching the way she dances around the café when she thinks she’s alone, smiling to herself or singing the snatch of a song.

“Are you with Abby right now?” The annoyance in Roman’s voice makes me smile. “You sound distracted.”

“I’m about to be. She’s just closing up.”

I’m not going to pretend like creeping on my girlfriend is high-level behavior. But her ridiculously tiny shorts climbing up over the curves of her ass, not to mention her perfect handful-sized breasts bulging out of her T-shirt, visible in the mirror behind the bar, is a delicious treat that I’m in no hurry to rush.

Especially given that inside an hour from now, both the T-shirt and the shorts will be on her bedroom floor, and thosegorgeous long, tanned legs will be wrapped around my back while I lose myself inside her.

“Lucia tells me Abby has started pulling some casual shifts at Pillars.” Roman’s voice jolts me out of my extremely pleasant fantasy.

“Some, yes.” I frown. I’m not a huge fan of her working shifts at Nikolai’s nightclub, not least because I know exactly the kind of questionable fucks who hang out there.

But I also know she needs the money. And even so early into our relationship, I know better than to offer Abby help, or—God forbid—tell her what to do.

“You might want to be careful there, brother. If Abby’s hanging out at Pillars, she’s likely the kind of trouble you don’t need.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I manage to keep the annoyance out of my tone.

Barely.

Roman snorts. “Copy that. Have a good night.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. Luckily, since any further attack on Abby would have left us in a very awkward space indeed.