SEVENTY-THREE

GABRIEL’S POV

“Are you kidding me? You want us to tell her we met at a club? What would she think about me?” Kiera asked, her eyes wide, a mixture of disbelief etched across her face. “Or maybe we could say we bumped into each other at a coffee shop and you spilled coffee on me,” I suggested.

“Abuela must know that you never get your own coffees! Besides, why must it be me who spills coffee on you? What happened to you spilling coffee on me?” Her tone was a dramatic cocktail of sincerity and jest.

“Fine, let’s toss that idea. How about we tell her I was in some sort of trouble and you saved me?” she countered, trying to keep the tone light.

“Abuela would want details, and we wouldn’t want to give her the slightest hint about how we really met,” I shot back, noticing her brow knitting together as she pondered.

I sighed heavily, resting my head against the car seat. My thoughts were a chaotic storm.

“Wait, what if we say we met on a dating site? It seems realistic and doesn’t raise any