The-Spanish-Love-Deception-www.indianpdf

C H A P T E R E I G H T E E N
Stopping myself from crawling under the table was becoming a real
hardship. But if Isabel kept up the Aaron and Lina questioning for a
little longer, I’d have no other choice but to do exactly that.
Otherwise, my last resort would be to knock down the bride with one of the
metallic trays containing the variety of pinchos we were snacking on. It
would be a waste of food, and it was her bachelorette-slash-bachelor party,
but it’d be the only way. She was a resilient woman; she’d recover in time for
the wedding.
We stood in one of the most frequented bars—sidrerías—of my
hometown, surrounded by the characteristically loud chatter of people and the
sour smell of spilled sidra—the regional apple cider. These were
establishments that one could find in every corner of any city or town in this
region of the north of Spain. People gathered around in groups of all sizes
and ages. Some stood around tall tables, just like we—bride, groom, best
man, Aaron, and I—were doing. Others had been seated to have dinner, and
some were leaning on the bar, chatting animatedly with the waiters.
Willing my lungs to take a slow, deep, and calming breath, I tried to order
my thoughts, so I could dodge the last one of Isabel’s questions.
“Come on. There has to be more to the story of how you two met.”
Isabel’s eyes shone with curiosity, bouncing from me to my very stoic fake
boyfriend, who stood close enough to my side to steal a fair chunk of my
focus. “You are playing really hard to get, Lina.”
“That’s the whole story, I promise.” Sighing, I averted my eyes to my
hands, which were lying on the smooth surface of the table. My fingers were
busy playing with my empty glass. “Aaron started working for InTech, and