CATALINA
Things didn't change. Miguel didn't treat me differently as we got home, though it was still too early for me to tell. I just had this nagging feeling that it was too good to be true.
From the way he held me as I slept, to the way he laughed freely while we snuck into the kitchen and foraged for food. I'd never seen him so carefree and relaxed.
Once we got into the kitchen, Miguel went straight for the fridge while I tiptoed around, pretending to be a spy.
It was kind of funny. The owner of the house was scared of being caught in his kitchen eating the food he provided.
He pulled out leftover sandwiches and some kind of pasta dish that smelled way too good to resist.
He placed everything on the counter and turned to me. “Anything else?”
I grinned. “Dessert. There has to be
