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Rafael runs a hand down my arm, eliciting sparks of awareness over my skin as he squeezes my elbow. “The straw has a filter, that way you don’t drink the leaves.”
I nod, breathing in a deep whiff of the earthy, almost grassy scent before pressing the warm metal straw to my lips and taking a sip. My eyes widen, and my cheeks pull taut, lips puckering. I swallow it down despite the bitter, almost astringent taste coating my mouth.
His family is seated around the dining table with us, sucking their lips into their mouths, and before I can even say anything, they burst into laughter.
“It’s a little bitter,” I admit, my shoulders quaking with suppressed laughter, heat blooming over the apples of my cheeks.
Rafael tugs on my hair tie, pulling it out and putting it around his wrist. He sinks his fingers into the base of my scalp, rubbing gently and then applying firmer pressure that makes me melt into the chair.
“You purr like a cat,” Catalina remarks with a knowing grin, shuffling the deck of cards. She hands them to Diego to pass out to each of us and grabs a plate ofvigilantefrom the stove and sets it in the centre of the table. The smell of sweet butter lingers in the air, making my mouth water.
I’ve learned that in Argentina, it’s common to eat dinner at nine or ten at night, so having a pastry, orfacturas,around fiveor six withmateorcortaditois what I’ve grown used to these last few nights.
“Speaking of cats, how’s Mrs. Purrito doing?” Carlos asks, and the smirk he’s wearing tells me there’s a story behind that cat that I haven’t heard yet.
I perch on the edge of my chair, trying to look like I know what the hell I’m doing as I stare at the cards in my hand. Spoiler alert I don’t.
“She’s with Nakoa and Jelani, so I imagine she’s laughing maniacally while rubbing her ass on J’s pillow since he’s allergic to cats,” Rafael says, dropping his hand from my head to pick up his cards.
It takes everything in me not to pout at the loss of contact.
“If he’s allergic, why would he agree to watch her?” Catalina asks. She’s the picture of calmness as she arranges her cards. Something tells me she’s three steps ahead of everyone else. As the mother of two boys, I suppose she had to be.
“Because it’s Jelani. It’s not that he has a hard time saying no, because he doesn’t. It’s that he genuinely doesn’twantto say no, and it wasn’t until we got here that Nakoa texted to give me an update on her and also let me know that they shouldn’t watch her again because J would never tell me, but he’s been sneezing every two minutes and has had three nose bleeds so far. I feel like shit about it,” he grumbles, and the regret in his tone has a dagger jabbing straight through the centre of my heart.
Diego waves a hand through the air, dismissing the thought just as quickly as it came. “Oh stop. You didn’t know.”
“He’s right. How about we tell Elise how you came to have Mrs. Purrito in the first place?” Carlos asks, and I sigh because it’s what I’ve been waiting for this whole time.
Rafael groans, sorting through his cards. He doesn’t bother lifting his head as he says, “You can tell her yourself because I know you’re dying to.”
Carlos’s smile stretches wide across his handsome face, twin dimples shining brightly as he relays a story about the time he hadn’t heard from Rafael in weeks, but knew he was alive because he’d been watching his games. “I figured I’d get his attention one way or another, and this little cutie,” he says, showing me a picture of a mud-covered Ragdoll kitten on his phone, “was just the right accomplice.”
“Don’t forget Elise’s father,” Rafa grumbles, grabbing a card from the middle of the table.
My brows knit in confusion. “I’m sorry, did you saymy father?”
“He sure did. I got a hold of your dad and asked him if he’d help me with my plan to get Rafa’s attention.” My brows are at my hairline, and I’m hanging onto every word spoken from Carlos’s mouth. “He picked Mrs. Purrito up from the shelter and brought her to the pitch for me. Let her loose after the game was over and made his team captain chase the little thing around on live TV. As soon as she was in his arms, he had a whole slew of cameras and mics in his face pressuring him on whether or not he was keeping her, and of course he had to. Who wantsthatbad publicity, right?”
My mouth hangs open, and I have to make the conscious effort to shut it, waiting for Rafael to confirm this is all true.
He’s lazy with his response, simply saying, “At least she’s stopped tearing my shit apart since then. I threatened to have her declawed, and that seemed to tame her.”
I gasp, smacking his shoulder without considering what his parents might think, but his mum, who’s seated on his other side, is smacking him in the back of the head at the same time as me. I huff a laugh but ask, “How could you?”
He rubs his shoulder, shooting me a playful grin before turning that same expression on his mum. “Iwouldn’t.I swear,but she took the threat seriously, and that was all I’d hoped for. I’m not about to chop her toes off. That’s fucked up.”
“Agreed,” Carlos says across the table, lifting his cards to his face.
“You ready to lose again, Carlos?” Diego asks with a smirk that somehow manages to be both charming and a little intimidating. He effectively steers the conversation back to the game that I’ve just barely figured out how to play by watching them the last few minutes.
Carlos rolls his eyes so hard I’m worried they might get stuck. “Please, Papá. You got lucky last time,” he taunts.
“Ah, but luck is just preparation meeting opportunity,hijo,” he says.
I nudge his shoulder. “He’s got you there, Carlos.”
He shoots me a betrayed, mock-outraged look and says, “Et tu, Elise? My own future sister-in-law?”