Perfection

215 Days After, 153 Days Until

Alexia

"Are you going to show Sam the place you bought?"

I sighed. I'd been working out with Mapí for about a half hour before we decided to call it a day. We'd been on the topic of whether or not she was ready to propose to Ingrid or not, and now we're onto the topic of my relationship.

"Soon. We're busy."

"Busy fu—"

"Finish that sentence María and it'll be the last sentence you speak." Ingrid came up to us, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend.

"Gracias, Ingrid. Some people don't know how to keep their intrusive thoughts to themselves." I nudged my friend. "We're busy with our lawyer."

"'Our lawyer'." She teased.

"Look, we're trying to get Riley back home. It's hard. There's a lot more to it than I thought. A lot more. Getting a judge is even harder, and we're the ones that have to travel."

"Well, we'll help you in any way we can." Ingrid said. "Sam and Riley deserve all the happiness they can get. So do you, Ale. It's been a rough year for you."

We stopped in front of my Cupra. "I appreciate your love and support. I really do. I'll talk to Sam, but you two should come over for dinner some night soon. Sam's a fantastic cook."

"Hence the restaurant." Mapí went on with her teasing. "You let us know a date and time, and we'll make it work."

"Great. Speaking of dinner, I should go. My mom is making Paella and invited us over."

"We'll see you on Thursday then."

"Enjoy tomorrow off." Ingrid wrapped me in a hug. "Adiós, Ale."

"Adiós." I tossed my bag in the car and hopped in.

Getting home was easy. The traffic was light. I had no issues getting home. But when I walked into the house, some sort of pleasing smell entered my nose.

I could've swore dinner was at mom's.

"Bonita!" I called out. I dropped my bag by the door and headed to the kitchen. Sam was there. Cooking something. "Hola, mi amor." I went up to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey,"

"What are you making? It smells delicious."

"I'm baking."

"Okay...well, what are you baking?" I trapped her with my arms.

"As a thank you for your mom, I thought I'd make her some fudge."

"That does not look like—"

"American fudge. It's basically a block of sugar. Riley loves it. Christmas tradition."

"Mmm," I softly kiss her bare shoulder. "It smells wonderful."

"It's a process." She began to stir whatever contents were boiling over the stove. "How was training?"

"Good. I'm feeling...less tired."

"You've been working hard. You should be proud of yourself, Ale."