Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
We head for his car, and I slide into the passenger seat, eyeing him suspiciously as he starts the engine.
“Can I at least know how long of a drive this is?”
Santi glances over at me, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Long enough for you to keep guessing.”
I groan, letting my head fall back against the seat as he pulls out onto the road, his laughter filling the car.
The bustling streets of Altea - the charming city he has brought me to - begin to fade away as we head toward the quieter outskirts of town.
“Are we headed to the coast?” I ask.
“No,” he says, his smile widening as he finally takes pity on me. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes!” I laugh.
“Alright. Well… we’re going to visit my mother.”
“Wait... what?” I say, my voice a little higher than usual. “You’re taking me to see your mum?”
He laughs softly at my reaction, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
“Don’t worry - it’ll be great. You’ll love her. She’s been asking about you.”
I feel a bit of tension in my chest at the thought of meeting his mother.
What if I make a bad impression?
What if I say the wrong thing?!
I’ve heard so much about her from Santi, but I’ve never had the opportunity to meet anyone in his family other than his cousin, Elena. I’ve seen photos of his mother on his instagram, and I know from the things that Elena’s told me that his family has always been important to him.
I also know that meeting his mother is kind of a big deal, and I can’t believe how casual he’s being about it!
“You’re sure about this?” I ask.
He turns to me, his voice steady and confident. “I’m sure. I want you to meet her. She’s an important part of my life, and I want her to get to know you.”
I swallow the nerves swirling in my stomach and nod, forcing myself to relax. Santi chatters away to me as we continue our drive, and I try not to build this up into something huge in my head. After all, he seems relaxed enough about it - if I had anything to worry about, he’d surely be a little more nervous himself, right?
Finally, we approach a small, charming house nestled between the hills. The whitewashed building has a simple, rustic beauty, with bougainvillea climbing up the walls and a stone pathway leading to the front door. It’s hardly a luxury mansion, but it’s incredibly pretty all the same.
I swallow thickly as we pull up into the small driveway, and I take a deep breath as Santi turns off the engine. He reaches for my hand, his grip warm and reassuring.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice soft, yet there’s a slight glimmer of nervousness in his eyes.
I give him a small smile, trying to match his calmness. “Ready.”
We step out of the car and walk toward the front door. Santi knocks gently before opening the door, calling out in a voice full of affection.
“Mama, estamos aquí.”
From inside, I hear the sound of light footsteps approaching, and then a petite woman appears in the doorway.
She’s beautiful, with a warm, welcoming smile. The moment she sees Santi, her entire face lights up with pure joy.
“Mi hijo!” she exclaims, stepping forward to embrace him. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, my love.”
Santi wraps his arms around her tightly, and I watch the exchange with a soft smile, touched by the genuine love between them.
After a moment, Santi pulls back, and his mother turns her attention to me. Her warm blue eyes are kind, and she studies me for a moment before smiling.
“You must be Olivia,” she says, her voice filled with an unmistakable warmth that immediately puts me at ease. “I have heard so much about you from my son and also my niece. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
I smile back, feeling a wave of relief wash over me at her pleasant aura. “I am. And it’s lovely to meet you, too.”
She pulls me into a gentle hug, her slender arms wrapping around my shoulders, and after a beat or two, I relax into the embrace. When she pulls back, her gaze flickers between Santi and I, and I can tell she’s studying our connection with curiosity.
“You two make a beautiful couple,” she says confidently.
I feel my cheeks heat. “Thank you,” I reply softly, the weight of her approval already making me feel more at home.
She leads us inside with enthusiastic waves of her hands, and I can’t help but think of how the living room is a perfect reflection of the woman who welcomed us in: warm, inviting and filled with life.
Framed photographs line the walls and clutter the wooden shelves, each one a glimpse into Santi’s past. There are baby pictures - one where he’s chubby-cheeked and grinning, another where he’s barely a toddler, clutching a ball that’s nearly as big as he is. A few faded black-and-white portraits must be of older relatives, and then there are more recent shots of Santi with his teammates and a picture of him with his mother at what looks like an awards ceremony, both beaming with pride.