her feet in my lap, both of us drinking coffee and reading.
I have to say, pajama day has to be one of my favorite days. And it’s sorely needed too, considering we’ve been back to work for the last week and this is the first day off. We had a game last night against Valencia, which we barely won, and my body is exhausted and still trying to play catch-up after all the food and fun over the holidays.
“What is it?” I ask. From the serious expression on her face, I know it’s something important to her.
“Where do you see us in a year from now?” she asks. Her voice is so small, her posture so timid, I find it adorable. As if she thinks that question would scare me off.
“Hopefully right here, having a pajama day,” I tell her honestly.
“And in five years?”
Oh, she’s really going for it. I tilt my head, studying her. This isn’t like her at all. Usually she shies away from any talk of the future. I’m always the one trying to dream on and make plans.
“I don’t know. I just know I’ll be with you.”
“What about in twenty years?”
I laugh. “My answer hasn’t changed, Thalia.”
“But,” she begins, rubbing her lips together, something she does when she searches for the right words, “in twenty years from now, you’re going to be forty-four years old. You’ll still be in the prime of your life. And me? I’ll be sixty.”
“So?”
“So? Sixty!”
“Sí. And I’ll be forty-four. I don’t understand.”
She sighs noisily. “I’m not going to look like this,” she says gesturing to herself. “Okay? I’m going to look old. I’m going to look sixty. I won’t be able to delay aging, it’s going to happen to me and you’re going to be looking fit and as handsome as fuck. Maybe even more handsome than you are now.”
“That is impossible,” I tell her dramatically.
“You get my point now. You’re not going to want to be with me anymore.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She’s sensitive about this and very serious and I don’t want her to think her feelings aren’t valid.
I get up from my end of the couch and sit right next to her, running my thumb under her lip. “Listen to me, amor mío. I love you. I love you for the person you are now and the person you will be. I’m very aware that you’ll change and so will I. But what I feel for you won’t. Don’t you see what we have? This,” I press my lips to hers before pulling back and searching her eyes, “this goes beyond looks. This is about a connection of the souls. It’s how we knew we were meant for each other the moment we laid eyes on each other. And that connection, that’s not going to go away with age, it’s only going to strengthen.”
She stares at me, seemingly in awe. “Where did you come from Alejo Albarado?”
“Espa?a,” I tell her. I peer over at her coffee on the table and see that it’s empty. “And you need a refill.”
I pick up her cup and bring it over to the coffee machine when there’s a knock at the door.
I freeze, looking at Thalia who springs to her feet.
She rushes over to the door and I know she’s lambasting it for not having a peephole. “Who is it?” she asks, her voice a little high.
“Is Alejo with you?” comes the voice on the other side.
Mateo’s voice.
Shit!
“Uh,” Thalia says but I can’t have her lie. She’s not good at lying and I don’t want to lie to Mateo right now. Don’t ask don’t tell is one thing but if he’s asking…
I give her the motion that I’m going to handle it and I open the door.
Mateo is standing there in a long black coat and he looks pissed.
His eyes dart from me in my t-shirt and plaid pants to Thalia in her matching pink pajama set, and it’s quite obvious we can’t pretend I’m here so she can check up on my knee.
He strides purposefully through the door to the middle of the apartment and looks around. It’s probably the first time he’s been in here but he doesn’t let it distract him for long.
“I need to have a word with the two of you,” he says, looking grim as he eyes us. “I think you better sit down.”
I exchange a worried glance with Thalia and the two of us sit down on the couch while Mateo