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)
∞∞∞
Santi is in the kitchen when I arrive, barefoot and effortlessly at ease as he moves around, putting the finishing touches on dinner. The smell of garlic and herbs fills the air, and my stomach rumbles in appreciation.
“You cooked?” I tease, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as I take in the sight before me.
He’s currently hovering over the stove, effortlessly flipping something in a pan. The sleeves of his shirt have been rolled up to his elbows in order to reveal his thick forearms, and he smirks over at me as he tosses a kitchen towel over his shoulder.
“Careful, princesa. I might take offense.”
I arch a brow as I step further into the kitchen space.
“I’m just saying that it’s been a while since you made me a real dinner,” I say, gesturing towards the pan.
“I’ve been busy, Liv. Didn’t you know this already?” he teases.
I laugh, shaking my head in amusement before closing the space between us. Wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, I press my cheek against his back, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.
He smells like soap and something distinctly him, and I sigh contentedly.
His free hand finds mine where it rests against his stomach, his fingers brushing over my knuckles before giving them a gentle squeeze.
I press a kiss between his shoulder blades before finally stepping back, watching as he plates up whatever masterpiece he’s managed to create. He moves with surprising ease in the kitchen, pouring sauce over the dish with an almost arrogant precision, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
“Alright, chef,” I say, sliding into my seat at the small dining table, my curiosity piqued. “Let’s see if this is actually edible.”
Santi chuckles, setting a plate in front of me before taking his own seat across the table.
He watches expectantly as I take my first bite, and to my utter surprise, it’s... good. Like, really good.
I chew slowly, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Alright,” I say, pointing my fork at him. “What’s this about?”
His smirk falters slightly, and a more serious expression settles over his features. There’s something unreadable in his eyes - something weighty that wasn’t there before.
He twirls his fork between his fingers for a moment before finally speaking.
“I might have the opportunity to train with a top international team over the summer.”
I freeze, my fork hovering just above my plate as my brain scrambles to process what he just said.
“Wait - what?” I blink at him. “Santi, that’s huge!”
He exhales a small laugh, but there’s something restrained about it. “Yeah, it is.”
I set my fork down, leaning forward. “Why are you saying it like that?! You’re making it sound like this isn’t a good thing? This is incredible, Santi! You’ve worked so hard for something like this.”
His gaze flickers to me, and he hesitates before speaking. “The training - it’s in Madrid.”
Ah.
The words land like a small stone dropping into the pit of my stomach.
Madrid. Hours away. A different city entirely. And I have my summer programme, here…
I straighten slightly, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Oh.”
Santi watches me carefully, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his plate.
“It’s just for a trial period at first,” he explains, his voice calm, measured. “Nothing set in stone. Just training, meetings… seeing if it’s the right fit.”
I nod slowly, processing. “That’s… that’s amazing, Santi. Truly.” I mean it - really, I do.
But I can’t ignore the knot tightening in my chest at the thought of him being so far away.
He studies me, his green eyes searching my face. “I didn’t want to bring it up until I knew more. And I don’t even know if I’ll take it. But I had to tell you.”
I manage a small smile. “Of course you did. And I’m really proud of you.” I reach across the table, covering his hand with mine. “You deserve this.”
His fingers squeeze mine, his expression softening. “I don’t want this to change things between us, Liv.”
I inhale deeply, pushing down the uncertainty creeping in. “It won’t,” I say, more determinedly than I feel. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods, as if making a silent agreement with himself.
“Good.” He takes another bite of his food, watching me carefully. “Because I actually have something else to tell you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “There’s more?”
A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. The offer… it’s not actually for a team in Madrid.”
I tilt my head, confused. “What do you mean?”
He sits back, running a hand through his dark hair. “I got an official contract offer. The training would be in Madrid, but the offer….” He pauses, eyes locked on mine. “It’s from England.”
Silence. The words hang in the air between us, and my brain takes an extra second to catch up.