Vegas Knot (✔️) | Love Travels #1

Thirty-Six

I spend most of the evening hidden in my bedroom after I race through the hallway, hoping not to have to see Enrique while my emotions are swirling so close to the surface. I love him? What was I thinking, admitting that when I'm still supposed to be leaving this month? I mean, I want to stay, but I hadn't told him that yet. What if everything changes?

I turn the lock on the door and lay down in bed, running scenarios through my head until they're supplanted by memories of his lips on mine, his fingers threading through my own.

I'm not going to sleep like that, so I silently open my laptop and set it on the bed beside me to watch some people make a collection of items into a complete gourmet meal.

Great, now I'm hungry.

I don't know how long I bounce around the room, but when I wake the next morning, my hair is caked to my face from the tears I cried over the romance film I ended up watching at two in the morning.

My watch says it's after nine, which means I'm very late for work (huge negative) and Enrique has definitely left and will not expect to discuss this with me (huge positive). I test the waters, slowly opening the door, but the only proof their is of Enrique's existence is a note pinned to the wall outside my door.

See you later. Have a good day.

He's followed it up with a little heart and when I make it downstairs for breakfast, there's a container of food in the fridge with a similar note.

Kindly get lost, butterflies. I have things to do!

The day passes at a crawl as I'm dragged into three meetings that could have been an email. And despite my best efforts, they are not distracting me from last night's bathroom door confession. They are making me exceptionally bored, though, and having to feign interest is making me wish I weren't the team leader.

My coffee cup is getting an excellent workout today.

Carla, true to form, has managed to distract me, sending me several hilarious pictures of her throughout the day, holding up various signs with random pictures or words on them. By the time she sends the last one, I'm finishing up work for the day and Carla is standing beside Lorena outside their apartment building.

Is this some kind of secret code? I send her.

I cannot believe you're asking me that, she replies. And then she goes silent.

A whole hour passes and I still have no idea what's going on with the pictures when they pull into my driveway and hop out of the car.

The door is barely open when I race out to greet them, completely forgetting that shoes are a thing that exist. "I can't believe you guys are here!"

"And I can't believe you didn't tell us your husband is a millionaire."

"He's not."

Lorena looks at Carla and back to me. "How far into denial have you swum, my friend?"

"I haven't! It's a long story but he's not a millionaire."

"That ring," Carla begins.

"And this house?" Lorena finishes. "Man's got money."

"Enrique is a teacher, guys. Don't get weird when he gets home, please."

"Fine," Carla sighs. "But only because we like you."

"Does this place have its own postal code?" Lorena asks, inviting herself inside and throwing her shoes off into a pile near the door. "This is massive."