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)
“This is going to be good for you. Trust me.”
I’ve never been to this particular bar before, but it’s like many of the other authentic Spanish establishments that I’ve frequented over the past couple of months: cosy yet lively.
A few of my colleagues are already gathered in one of the booths that occupy the corner space, and they wave us over, smiling warmly as we approach.
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen everyone!” Sarah exclaims as we make our way over.
Our colleagues greet us with excitement and enthusiasm, standing within the booth so that they can offer us a quick embrace.
We exchange kisses on cheeks, and Sarah squeals in delight.
“Oh, look at you all! Marta, have you done something different with your hair?! And Ana, those earrings are gorgeous!”
Her presence is like a spark, instantly lifting the mood around as the group greet her with a familiar warmth. It’s clear how much they’ve missed her.
“Sarah! Liv!” Marta scoots over to make room, patting the seat beside her. “Come sit. We’ve already started on the first round, but don’t worry - the next one’s on me.”
“You’re just saying that because you know I’ll hold you to it,” Sarah teases, sliding into the booth with a wink.
Ana leans across the table as I settle in beside Sarah, her gold earrings catching the light as she beams at me.
“How have you been, Olivia? I’ve barely seen you at all recently. Where have you been hiding?!”
There it is: that slight edge of curiosity I’ve come to expect from everyone since my relationship with Santi became public knowledge.
But Ana’s tone is friendly, not prying.
Confident that I know her well enough to figure that she means well, I smile, determined not to let my nerves show.
“Busy,” I tell her. “You know how it is - endless lesson planning and trying to keep the advanced group from driving me insane before their final exams.”
“Oh, I bet they love you,” Ana laughs.
“They do!” Marta says. “No, honestly - I’ve overheard some of your students talking about you like you’re the coolest teacher in school.”
“That’s because she is,” Sarah interjects, nudging me with her elbow. “Miss Bennett, role model extraordinaire.”
The table erupts into laughter, and I find myself relaxing more with each passing second.
“Enough about me,” I say, shaking my head as the laughter dies down. I might already know the answer to the question I’m about to ask given that we regularly keep in touch, but my colleagues don’t know that, and I want to take the heat away from myself. “Sarah, how are you holding up? How’s the little one?”
The mention of her daughter has Sarah’s face lighting up in a way that only mother’s do.
“Oh, she’s amazing,” she gushes. “I didn’t know I could love something so much and be so exhausted at the same time.”
Marta smiles warmly as she leans forward, though her eyes are wide with curiosity. “Is she sleeping through the night yet?”
Sarah snorts. “Not even close. She seems to think three a.m. is a perfectly reasonable time to be wide awake. But honestly? I don’t even care. One gummy little smile from her and it really does feel worth it. It’s much better now that she’s more interactive with us - laughing and smiling. It’s so cute.”
Ana rests her chin on her hand, smiling. “Do you have pictures? You must have pictures.”
“Oh, I have pictures,” Sarah laughs, pulling her phone from her bag.
The table gathers closer as she scrolls through her camera roll, showing off photos of her baby girl. There’s a picture of her sleeping in a tiny onesie when she was very first born, her little hands curled into fists; and another more recent one of her propped up on Sarah’s lap, her wide, dark eyes staring up at the camera.
“She’s beautiful,” Marta says.
“She really is,” Ana agrees. “And those cheeks! I just want to squish them.”
Sarah beams, clearly basking in the attention. “She’s my little angel, even when she’s screaming bloody murder because there’s not a boob in her face the second she wakes up.”
The table laughs, and the conversation shifts to parenting stories. Marta shares a tale about her nephew trying to flush a toy down the toilet, and Ana recounts her friend’s toddler eating sand at the beach just a few days ago.
As the stories flow, I find myself smiling and laughing with them all, relaxing further with every moment that passes.
It’s so easy to forget the weirdness of these last few days when the attention isn’t on me.
“So,” Marta says, smirking as she leans back in her seat. “When are you going for number two?”
Sarah’s eyes widen, and she nearly chokes on her drink.
“Number two?! Let me get through this one first!”
The table erupts into laughter again, and Sarah shakes her head, though there’s a smile tugging at her lips.