Page 43 of Together Again

“If that’s your way to get me to babysit, I’d say you’re out of luck this week.”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner on Friday? Joana is making her mom’s Portuguese stew recipe. I promise it’ll be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

I chuckled but then stopped in my tracks when I looked at the crowd of people waiting. I couldn’t have missed him. The confident, tall, blond, amazing guy I’d met at Christmas was here.

“Max,”I said to myself.“Alex, I have to go.”

I heard him say, “Bring Max on Friday,” before I ended the call and waved to catch Max’s attention.

My breath caught when his eyes locked on mine, and he stopped for a moment before lifting his arm in acknowledgment and spoke to the young guy that was following him.

I checked him out as he made his way toward me, navigating the groups of people hugging and reuniting.

He’d lost weight, and the hair I’d loved to run my fingers through was now too short. It looked like a practical cut, and it didn’t suit him in the least. Not that it made him look any less perfect in my eyes.

Diogo was walking two steps behind Max. His face was pale, and he looked like he was struggling with his suitcase.

As soon as they were close enough, Max spoke with urgency. “Isaac, Diogo needs to eat. Is there a café here?”

I didn’t know much about Diogo, other than the relevant details of what he was coming to Portugal for, but Dorian had told me he was diabetic and had recently been in hospital, which was the reason Max had wanted to accompany him.

Well, I hoped it wasn’t the only reason.

“This way.” I grabbed hold of Diogo’s suitcase and walked back toward the café I’d sat in earlier.

“What does he need?” I asked Max.

“Just a sandwich and some orange juice.”

I ordered the food, two espressos, and two custard tarts for us while they picked a table. Fortunately, the service was fast.

Diogo’s hands were shaking on his lap, and Max’s reassuring hand on Diogo’s arm did nothing to mask his worry.

When Diogo had finished his sandwich andhalf of his juice, color slowly returned to his face, and he was no longer shaking. He looked at me and smiled shyly.

“Hi, I’m Diogo.” He held his hand out.

I could swear that was the moment Max realized where he was and the change in Diogo was like a cloud of relief lifting.

“Hi, Diogo, I’m Isaac. How do you feel now?”

“Much better, thanks. I’m sorry I was a little out of it earlier.”

“We fell asleep and missed breakfast,” Max explained. “The air hostess refused to make something for Diogo even though we had all the medical paperwork that showed he needs to eat at regular intervals. She said we were too close to landing.” He sounded frustrated.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m glad you’re both here now, and that you’re feeling better, Diogo.”

Max looked at me and the corners of his mouth rose slightly, then he looked at the custard tart in front of him and chuckled.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” I said.

He knew I meant I wouldn’t tell David that he’d eaten a custard tart someone else had made.

This time, his smile reached all the way to his eyes, and it was like the sun rising after a long dark night.

I noticed Diogo looking at us. How long had we had our eyeslocked on each other?

“When you’re ready,” I coughed, “I’ll take you to the center. Diogo, your grandparents and your uncle will meet us this afternoon. In the meantime, you can rest in one of our rooms and catch up with some sleep, or you can meet theother young guys and girls that socialize in the center.”