Chapter Forty Six

“If you stare at me like that, I’ll melt.” I laughed and took a sip from my strawberry milkshake and looked at him—he said that he just came from the plane, but why does he still look… good? I knew I looked bad when we got off the plane from Paris. It wasn’t because the air wasn’t good, because it was. It was just probably the natural occurrence of stress in my face.

I could probably be the patron saint of stress.

Enrique paused swirling on his pasta and looked at me, “Do you want to say something?”

“Why are you still looking good?” I asked, almost out of it, only to realize that I said it out loud making Enrique giggle.

“You know your words, huh,” he said and took a meatball from his pasta with a fork before taking a bite. “Did you miss me that much?”

I frowned, “You were so busy…”

Enrique smiled and leaned a little, “Because