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“Urgh! Olivia! Get off me! Fine, fine, I’m up.”
Marisol sighed and fumbled for her glasses on the bedside table, raising an eyebrow at her grey tabby cat when she noted the time.
“Seriously, girl? You wake me up a full hour before I need to get out of bed? It’s lucky you’re gorgeous.”
She scratched gently under the feline’s chin, to Olivia’s vocal satisfaction. After a moment, the cat cocked her head inquisitively and Marisol held up her hands in a gesture of supplication.
“Ok, let’s go to the kitchen and get breakfast.”
Marisol filled Oliva’s bowls with dried cat food and water. She glanced out the window. It was a beautiful spring morning, and she’d spent the whole weekend holed up in the house finishing an assignment. Seeing as Olivia had inexplicably decided to wake her up early, why not seize the opportunity? In fact, wouldn’t that fit Irish guy have his food truck serving breakfast near the Tarn by this time in the morning? Marisol smiled at her cat.
“Well played, Olivia.”
A little while later, Marisol was seated on a bench in Tarnfield Park, scanning her phone for the photos of ducks she’d managed to capture whilst there. There were some cute shots of ducklings which would likely make the blog.
She took a sip of her coffee and sighed with satisfaction. Rocco had gone to great lengths to explain how he sourced the beans from a local co-operative, mistrustful as he was of ‘big coffee’. Sadly, the Black Forest cronut he had insisted would make the perfect breakfast accompaniment was less to Marisol’s taste – it was cloyingly sweet, and she couldn’t manage more than a few bites. Marisol sighed. Rocco had clearly not remembered her last visit to his food truck, as he had repeated the story he told her last time about wild swimming in the Pyrenes. Like last time, Marisol didn’t have the heart to tell him that if he’d really been there in December, wild swimming would likely have caused him to die of hypothermia.
Marisol looked down at the cronut; like its maker, it was tasty but hard to swallow. She took another sip of her drink and leant back to enjoy the gentle warmth of the early morning sun on her face. It was so rare for her to ever just have time to relax. Her undergraduate law degree had been hectic enough, but the Bar Practice Course was on another level. Between the study required, the pupillages to arrange and undertake, and the application process for the various Inns of Court, Marisol could easily have ended up focusing on nothing but her attempts to become a barrister. Fortunately, Hope Biala had no intention of letting that happen.
Marisol had fallen into Hope’s arms, and ultimately her bed, on the first night of Fresher’s Week, and the pair had enjoyed a carefree and passionate romance which amicably dissolved around the spring term of their first year at university. They had too much mutual respect and affection not to stay friends, and three years down the line, they were best mates. Both girls moved to the same city following graduation – Marisol to undertake the BPC, Hope to complete an MBA. The pair went to salsa classes together every Wednesday (usually followed by a film or drinks and Marisol crashing at Hope’s since it was nearer the law school and buses were a no go after 10.30) and always had a ‘proper’ night out the last Friday of every month. When time constraints allowed, the girls saw each other more frequently, but these two engagements, seen by both as sacrosanct, ensured that they didn’t get caught up in other things and allow months to pass without actually meeting up.
Marisol glanced at her phone; she should probably make her way to the bus stop now. As she came close to the path which led up and out of the park, her eye was caught by a family of Mandarin Ducks swimming in a line. They were a fairly rare sight and would make a good edition to the blog. Marisol crouched down, scrambling in her bag for her phone to take a photo. She was concentrating so hard on what she was doing that she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and the next thing she knew, a pair of long legs had knocked her over, and a substantial amount of coffee had been split onto her head. She glared up into the dark, surprised eyes of the man standing above her.
“What the hell? You’ve covered me in coffee. Look where you’re going!”
He frowned at her.
“I’m sorry I knocked you over, but I didn’t expect someone to just be crouched in the middle of the path like that.”
Marisol huffed. She was feeling rattled by the fact she would now have to go home and change before making her appearance at Law School, which would mean arriving late – something she hated doing. She was further irritated when instead of retreating in contrition, the stranger made a show of helping her pick up her bag and its contents, which had fallen on the path beside them. He grabbed the book she was currently reading with a wry smile.
“Jean Paul Sartre? ‘Hell is Other People’ seems an apt sentiment right now.”
Marisol glared at him.
“Trying to cover the awkwardness you feel about being clumsy and rude with a display of intellectual prowess? Textbook.”
He barked an incredulous laugh and shook his head, but she could see the slight redness in his cheeks that belied the truth of her remark. He eyed her from under raised brows.
“I am sorry about spilling my coffee on you. Can I help you with anything?”
“No, it’s fine; you’ve done enough,” Marisol muttered, grumpily stuffing her book into her bag and hurrying back towards her flat.
*********
“Do you think we’ll be here much longer? I have to prep my arguments for court practice tomorrow.”
“We will be here as long as it takes; I’m not having you heading home with a broken ankle!”
Marisol rolled her eyes, but she knew there was no arguing with Hope when she was in this mood. For some inexplicable reason, Olivia had dragged a selection of Marisol’s impressive stiletto collection from the bottom of the wardrobe to the hallway. Marisol had not been aware of this when she left her living room to head out to salsa class, and only became aware of it shortly before she found herself sprawled full length on the carpet, her right ankle throbbing painfully and her right foot twisted to a strange angle. She was on the phone to Hope at the time, and her friend had insisted on driving over and taking her to the local Minor Injuries Unit, where they had been waiting for what seemed like a very long time. Thankfully, less than five minutes later, a pretty, smiling black woman approached the pair.
“Hi there, is it Marisol? I’m Genevieve, one of the junior doctors here. Would you like to come into clinic room one?”
The two girls followed her, Marisol struggling with her hospital issue crutches. She hobbled to a chair and Genevieve smiled.
“Well, Marisol, the good news is the ankle isn’t broken. You’ve strained the tendon quite badly, so you’ll need to keep the weight off it for the next week or so. It will be quite painful, so I’ve written you a prescription for some anti-inflammatories. As the swelling goes down, you may find it feels quite stiff. There are some exercises you can do which will help. In fact, I have a student physiotherapist shadowing me today; would you be okay to consent to him coming into the clinic room and going through some of the exercises with you? He can also fit you for a support boot.”
Marisol readily gave her assent; she knew how important it was for students to gain practical experience. Genevieve beamed.
“That’s great, I’ll call him in… Lucas, this patient’s happy for you to go through the rehabilitation procedure with her.”
He stepped through the door and Marisol suppressed an exclamation of surprise. It was the prat from the park last week! She felt her face heat up as their gazes locked; clearly he also remembered their encounter. For a second, the air between them seemed to fizz before he gave his head a little shake and mustered a friendly, professional smile.
“Hello there, I’m Lucas Koh, a final year physiotherapy student. I appreciate you allowing me to participate in this consultation, Miss…”
“Marisol is fine.” She rolled her eyes. Hiding behind formality this time; remind me never to play hide and seek with this one.
“Marisol, thank you.”
The way he said her name drew her attention. Was he trying to put on a Spanish accent? To be honest, it sounded more like it had rolled off his tongue naturally; anyway, she definitely didn’t like the sound of it. Just like she didn’t feel her skin rising to goosebumps as he deftly bent and rotated her ankle, explaining the exercises she should undertake to regain strength and movement once the swelling died down. After a little while, he smiled at her teasingly.
“So were you the one not looking where you were going this time?”
She blushed and scowled, to Lucas’s visible amusement. He is absolutely infuriating. Marisol kept her eyes fixed on him as he stood with a fluid movement. Striding over to a cabinet, he brought out a black support boot and handed it to her.
“Wear this for at least the next week. And rest the foot as much as you can. So no salsa dancing!”
Marisol tutted. “So, because I’m Spanish, I must do salsa dancing? Way to stereotype, Lucas Koh.”
He raised his eyebrows maddeningly.
“No, you probably do salsa dancing because you’re wearing a salsa outfit. I’d tell you it makes you look stunning, but that would be unprofessional.”
Marisol was too off kilter to notice that Lucas had begun to blush as he uttered the last sentence. Hope noticed and eyed the man appraisingly as she ushered her friend out of the clinic room door. Once they were seated in her car, Hope turned to Marisol excitedly.
“Oh my god, Mari! Did you know that student physio?”
Marisol’s lip curled.
“Not exactly; he’s the prick who bumped into me near the duck pond and started quoting Sartre when he saw my book.”
“The ‘Hell is Other People’ guy? Mari, I told you that was a sign! You had that quote pinned to your door in halls!”
“Yes I did, and thinking about how pretentious I was makes me wonder what you ever saw in me.”
Hope smirked at her in a parody of suggestiveness.
“I think you know perfectly well what I saw in you, baby cakes. I also think it’s perfectly clear Lucas Koh sees it too! The sparks that were coming off you two, it was lucky there were no naked flames in that clinic room!”
“Hope. What are you talking about? There were no sparks, he’s probably the most irritating person I’ve met all year.”
“Ah, then you admit he’s made an impression?” Hope banged the steering wheel and turned to Marisol with a gasp. “Oh my days! Do you remember Hannah saying if soul marks were a real thing, ‘Hell is Other People’ would be yours?”
Marisol scoffed. “Yes, I think she was trying to insult me, bless her.” She chuckled. “Didn’t she start telling you what yours should be and then get all flustered and start babbling because ‘Heartbreak Jake’ walked in? Remember! She practically shoved us out of the way to introduce herself and walked up to him going, ‘Hi, I’m absolutely gorgeous.’” Marisol laughed at the memory of the gauche redhead who had been in uni halls with them. She glanced at Hope, taken aback by her friend’s expression.
“Hope what is it?” The other woman turned to Marisol, open-mouthed.
“Mari, the cave diving instructor in Bali, that’s literally what he said to me when we first met!”
Marisol frowned. “He blurted out nonsense at you and you still had all that sex with him?”
Hope punched her playfully. “He didn’t say it like Hannah did! He walked over and said, ‘Hi I’m absolutely gorgeous – oh wait, that’s you.’ Then gave me a really over the top wink. It was funny; he was funny. And gorgeous. And hung. Shit, why didn’t I stay in contact with him?”
“Because he lived on the other side of the world?”
“Hmm, he travelled around a lot though. Anyway, if Hannah’s to be believed, I’ve blown my chance with my soulmate, but the same can’t be said for you.”
Marisol levelled a playful glare at Hope. “Stop this nonsense now, please. I don’t have a soulmate, and even if I did, I can assure you it would not be Lucas Koh.”
*******
Marisol had to forgo her salsa classes for the next few weeks, although she did still go to Hope’s for dinner and drinks. By the time the last Friday of the month rolled around, her ankle was pretty much back to its best, so cocktails and dancing were on the cards. Hope was particularly celebratory, having received a pass with distinction on her latest assignment. When the shots of sambuca made an appearance before 9pm, Marisol should have seen how things were going. Yet there she found herself, several hours later, standing on a road outside a nightclub with a furious and freshly ejected Hope. The taller woman turned and scowled at the unbothered doorwoman.
“I cannot believe you’re throwing me out!”
“What you believe is neither here nor there, missy,” shot back the busty redhead in an Irish brogue. “You were warned several times, so out you go.”
Hope tutted theatrically, flipping her braids for effect and casting a haughty glance around the vicinity. The last thing Marisol expected was for Hope’s eyes to widen to saucers and to hear her friend shout in a slightly breathless voice.
“Henrik?! Oh my days, Henrik!!”
The next thing Marisol knew, Hope was being swept into the embrace of a blonde-haired man Marisol had never set eyes on before. She watched, completely taken aback as Hope was dipped in his arms, the pair of them sucking face as if their lives depended on it. After several minutes, Hope pulled away, turning to Marisol with starry eyes and declaring breathlessly, “Mari, this is Henrik, from Bali.”
The blonde man grinned at her endearingly.
“I’m not actually from Bali.”
“No, looking at you I had guessed that,” Marisol replied drily. But the pair of them had resumed their make out session and were paying her no heed. A moment later, she heard a vaguely familiar voice from behind her.
“Henrik, what the hell?”
Henrik broke away from Hope once more, his arms still firmly around her waist.
“Lucas! You’re not going to believe this, brother. This is Hope!”
Marisol may not have believed in fate, but she was aware that, right now, she needed to resign herself to hers. Of course Hope had bumped into her alleged soulmate, the handsome, charming and all-around perfect Henrik Bergstrom, who had swept her off her feet with his amiable demeanour and sexual prowess during a cave diving expedition in Bali. And of course, Henrik was in the company of none other than Lucas Koh, the insufferably smug coffee spiller who Hope had ridiculously suggested Marisol was attracted to. He gave her a brief nod of recognition, which put her back up with its casualness, before he smiled at his friend.
“Well, this is a turn up for the books. So we’re all going dancing together, then?”
Hope affected a pout.
“They just threw me out! I was only dancing on a table. Anyway, I’m not really interested in hitting a club right now; maybe we should call it a night, Henrik?”
He grinned at her abashedly.
“I’m visiting Lucas, so I’m crashing at his place-“
“No worries, Rik, take my keys and don’t do anything I wouldn’t, alright?”
Marisol watched askance as Lucas threw his keys to the other man. She turned to her friend.
“Hope, there is no way I’m just letting you head off with some complete random.”
Hope frowned.
“He’s not a random, Mari, he’s Henrik!”
Marisol struggled to summon the words to respond to this nonsensical statement. Lucas smiled.
“Marisol is quite right. Perhaps we should all head back to mine? Safety in numbers, right?”
Marisol scowled, but relented under Hope’s pleading gaze.
“Fine, but Hope, you owe me for this.”
Lucas quickly arranged an uber to take the group back to his flat. He slid into the front seat, leaving Marisol to share the back with Hope and Henrik. As they stepped in, Hope clocked the dark-haired man’s leather jacket, shooting Marisol a none-too-subtle wink.
“Oh, Lucas, you’re a James Dean daydream in that.”
Lucas turned his head and smirked, one eyebrow raised and his gaze flicking to Marisol.
“Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream.”
Hope playfully slapped Henrik.
“You never told me your best mate was a Swifty!”
“Yes, because I don’t know what one of those is,” replied Henrik in a husky tone that alerted Marisol to the fact the pair were about to resume their passionate embrace. She shifted her gaze directly in front of her, surprised to find she was locking eyes with Lucas. He smiled disarmingly.
“Not far to go now.”
Fortunately, he was telling the truth. Soon the taxi dropped them off in front of Lucas’s flat and they made their way inside, Henrik carrying Hope, to her visible delight. Lucas politely showed Marisol to the lounge and offered her a drink.
“Do you have any red wine?”
His face lit up.
“I have a bottle of rioja. I mean, if you like Spanish wine, not wanting to stereotype you at all.”
He eyed her teasingly and Marisol rolled her eyes, for some reason having to fight to keep a smile from tugging the corners of her lips upwards.
“That sounds fine.”
“Great! I’ll go and pour us a glass.”
He made his way to the kitchen and she glanced around the room. Presumably he rented furnished, but there were some homely touches. She was particularly amused by a gold jug in the shape of a penguin sitting atop a bookcase. The bookcase itself was crammed with works of science fiction – non fiction books about space, travelogues and various anatomy and physiology text books. She turned as she heard Lucas return with a bottle and two glasses. He poured some for them both and handed her a glass with a flourish.
“Senorita, aqui esta su vino.”
Marisol smiled smugly.
“Your Spanish is very good, Lucas. Tell me, where in South America did you learn?”
He eyed her askance and she raised a brow.
“It’s a slightly different accent. Sorry if I was supposed to just be bowled over by your charm.”
Marisol’s tone was softer than her words; she hoped he would pick up the humour behind them. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d flirted with someone only for them to accuse her of being mean… not that she was flirting with Lucas Koh. She just felt bad for how irritable she’d been before, and given that she was in his flat, drinking his wine, it was only fair to be polite and friendly. Lucas eyed her appraisingly, a smile playing on his lips.
“So you admit I have charm? I knew you were coming around! I learnt in Argentina. I spent some time there on my gap year building houses. It’s actually where I got Blingu.”
“Blingu?”
“The gold penguin you were admiring when I came back. They serve wine in earthenware versions over there. The wine pours through the beak.”
Marisol nodded.
“What was Argentina like?”
“It was amazing. When I was growing up, we moved around a lot for my dad’s work. I was lucky to see some incredible things, but living in compounds and attending international schools, a lot of the time one place feels much like the next. I love proper travelling; when I get my degree and I’m more experienced, I’d love to spend time volunteering abroad. I guess I’m pretty lucky I have that option.”
He eyed her with a tentativeness she wouldn’t have expected, and Marisol couldn’t help but be impressed by his self awareness. She smiled.
“I guess you are, but still, wanting to spend your time having new experiences and helping others, it’s a good way to make use of that luck and pay it forward.”
He beamed at her, and she found she was far fonder of this open, happy smile than any of the practised charming ones he’d thrown her way previously. He gazed at her intently.
“Do you like travel, Marisol?”
“I love it when I get the chance. There’s a lot to be learnt from spending time in different cultures. It might seem strange for a Spanish girl, but I haven’t really been to South America. Hope and I spent a month in Cuba two summers ago.”
“But you didn’t join her cave diving in Bali?”
“No. I had a pupillage at a chambers last summer so I was stuck at home.”
Lucas’s eyes brightened with interest.
“So you’re a trainee barrister?”
“Not yet; I’m hoping to be called to the bar in September if I can pass my exams and find an inn of court to accept me.”
“What type of law do you plan on specialising in?”
“Criminal, hopefully. It’s competitive, but I’m not afraid to go after what I want.”
“I bet you aren’t.”
There was a frisson of tension between them as he held her gaze. Marisol felt her heart speed up, but she wasn’t about to back down. She felt ridiculously pleased when Lucas dropped his eyes first.
“Anyway, you must be very clever.”
“I’m pretty clever, but I work hard. You can’t expect things to just fall into your lap.”
Lucas nodded vehemently.
“I completely agree. We make our own destiny and our own luck.”
Marisol smiled at him, and they sipped their wine in harmonious silence. However, soon this silence was punctuated by the sound of a headboard banging against a wall with increasing frequency. Lucas grimaced.
“My bedroom is next door, um, shall we put on some music?”
He unlocked his phone and handed it to her, moving towards his smart speaker. Marisol looked through his Spotify and eyed him mischievously.
“Wow, Lucas, you really are a Swifty.”
“You say that as if you expect me to be embarrassed.”
He smirked at her, and Marisol grinned back, holding up her hands.
“No judgement here. Hope and I spent many happy evenings pre-drinking to ‘Reputation’ back at university.”
“So you and Hope are old uni friends?”
“We were actually an item, to be honest. Seems strange to think of it now.”
Marisol’s casual tone belied how closely she observed him as she said this. But why did she feel so triumphant when his face briefly fell?
“Oh, you and Hope were together?” inquired Lucas in a tone of studied casualness.
Marisol nodded silently, and he passed no further comment. She felt disconcertion rising within her at this reticence and heard herself saying,“To be honest, I tend to date more men than women. I usually get less nervous around guys.”
His face lit up almost instantly.
“Ah, you date men and women. That’s great – for you, I mean, not that it wouldn’t be great for you if you didn’t, um…” He broke off and laughed helplessly.“Wow, that was embarrassing.”
Marisol smiled.
“I thought it was sweet.”
Lucas huffed a laugh.
“I very much doubt that!”
“Ok, how about, I thought that was endearingly awkward?”
He threw her a grin she couldn’t help but return.
“Endearingly awkward, I can work with. It’s a step up from clumsy and rude anyway.”
Marisol blushed.
“Lucas, I owe you an apology. I may have overreacted a little that morning. It wasn’t like you spilt coffee on me on purpose.”
He grinned at her.
“I can see why you were annoyed, though! And don’t worry – between you and me, I quite like being put in my place by an intriguing woman.”
She rolled her eyes at his patter and fought to keep down her smile.
“Intriguing? Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely. I couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful blonde who sees Sartre as light morning reading.”
“You’re laying it on a little thick, Lucas. What were you doing that you didn’t notice such a beautiful blonde until you tripped over her?”
He grinned shyly.
“I will admit that I was a little distracted by the astronomy podcast I was listening to.”
Marisol smiled.
“I noticed all your books over there. So do you believe in little green men then, Lucas?”
Again she found herself nervous that he wouldn’t pick up on her teasing being good natured, and she was ridiculously relieved when he made a joking face at her, which quickly melted into a smile.
“I couldn’t comment as to their body colour, but I am convinced there must be intelligent life out there somewhere. The universe is so vast, how could we be the only ones? It’s just simple logic.”
Marisol found herself in agreement. Normally talk of aliens would have her rolling her eyes and viewing the other person with vague annoyance, but Lucas’s argument had her nodding along.
“I think that’s a good way to look at it, and I am interested in space exploration, don’t get me wrong. But, I must admit, I’ve never been a big sci-fi fan and I can see from your bookcase that you are.”
“But don’t you think the way we imagine these other worlds and societies can give us such an interesting perspective on the way we view ourselves?”
“You could have a point there,” Marisol conceded. She had to admit she was enjoying talking to him, and maybe he was a little bit handsome, at least in the dimly lit living room when she was halfway through a bottle of surprisingly good red wine. She decided to ask him one of her date questions, not that this was anything remotely resembling a date.
“Tell me, Lucas, is there anyone you’d trust with your life?”
She was extremely impressed when Lucas pursed his lips and tilted his head, not looking taken aback but also not treating the question flippantly. He quickly broke into a smile.
“Henrik, without a shadow of a doubt. I mentioned before that I moved around a lot as a kid. We spent a couple of years at school together in Singapore. His parents run this Swedish conservation NGO. Anyway, you don’t tend to keep in touch with people when you move on, but we just did. I’m not saying we spoke loads, but whenever we did, it was like we’d seen each other the day before. Actually, I’d trust him with anyone’s life – he could literally dangle you off a mountain and you wouldn’t be afraid. So you don’t need to worry about Hope.”
Marisol scoffed.
“Hope is more than capable of looking after herself.”
Lucas smirked.
“He bent my ear about her for so long! At the time, I kept asking him why he didn’t pursue it…” He laughed and shook his head. “He just told me if it was meant to be, then it would be. It’s so on brand for that dopey bastard to end up being right about such utter nonsense.”
“You don’t believe in that kind of destiny?”
“Of course not. We make our own destiny; the idea of a soulmate, one person out there for everyone, it’s ridiculous.”
Marisol smiled.
“I couldn’t agree more. I was saying the same to Hope after we left the hospital…”
She trailed off, and he eyed her with a mischievous grin that belied the softer warmth she thought she could see in his eyes.
“Why were you talking about that after the hospital?”
Marisol was saved from responding by a scratching sound becoming audible from the French doors leading out to Lucas’s balcony. He grimaced.
“Sorry, it sounds like Meredith is here.”
“Meredith?”
“Yes, I have a cat. Or rather, a cat has me. It’s not really mine, but it turns up on Wednesdays and the last Friday of the month, so I feed it and lavish it with attention as any sensible human being would do. I was grumpy and resistant at first, but Meredith wore me down. I’m hoping I can learn from her.”
He turned to Marisol with a wink. She wondered if she should ask him to stop turning on the charm, but to be honest, she really liked it. She could tell that it was partly a front to cover his nervousness, but the idea he might be nervous was also pleasing and somehow reassuring. When he opened the door and let the cat in, she wondered if she should have expected it to be Olivia. She looked at him with a laugh.
“This is my cat!”
Olivia jumped onto the sofa and allowed Marisol to tickle under her chin. Lucas’s face was a picture of surprise.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes! She obviously comes here on the nights I’m away from home. And her name’s not Meredith, it’s Olivia.”
“But why?! She’s literally grey.”
“Exactly,” said Marisol with a smug smile.
*****
The next morning, the smell of coffee woke her up. Really good coffee, to be exact. Marisol stretched, her muscles slightly sore from having to sleep on the couch. Olivia was curled up next to her, showing no signs of moving. Marisol stood and made her way to the kitchen.
Lucas turned as she entered, giving her a warm soft smile.
“Morning, I’m making coffee; for you to drink, not wear this time.”
Marisol rolled her eyes.
“Are we ever going to stop talking about that?”
“I don’t know, how could you make it worth my while to?”
He eyed her smoulderingly and she bit her lip, approaching him until their lips were almost touching.
“How about… I make breakfast?”
She pulled away and threw him a challenging glance. He grinned in resignation.
“Do you need a sous chef? Since you don’t know where anything is?”
They were in the process of making a Spanish omelette when Henrik padded in, yawning widely. Lucas eyed his friend and sniggered.
“You probably want to wear your hair down today, Rik.”
He gestured at the slew of purple marks adorning the blonde man’s neck. Henrik tried unsuccessfully to tilt his head to a position which would enable him to see his own neck, then shrugged before eyeing the frying pan enthusiastically.
“Is that omelette? Have you made enough for everyone?”
Marisol smiled.
“Of course, but don’t let Olivia have any, it’s too spicy for her.”
Lucas shook his head.
“Meredith isn’t going to be interested in that; she knows I’ll have her salmon fillet waiting when she wakes up.”
Henrik’s face was a picture of confusion.
“Who are you guys talking about?”
Lucas grinned, his eyes on Marisol.
“It turns out Marisol and I share a cat. Although we’ve yet to agree on a name.”
Marisol rolled her eyes.
“Her name is Olivia!”
Lucas smirked.
“It’s yet to be decided.”
Henrik looked between them and shrugged, a grin lighting up his face.
“You two share a cat; you know that means you’re basically married, right?”
Lucas scowled at him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Rik! We’re not even dating! We… We’re…”
He blushed and looked at Marisol, imploring her to help him out and maybe asking for something a little more than that. She thought about the night before, their easy conversation and the moments of heat. She certainly did not believe in soulmates. But she did believe in making your own luck and in going after what you want. She turned to the blonde man with a smile.
“We’re seeing how it goes.”