Why didn’t I think of security? The first thing Bren did when news broke out about Sofia was to get her personal security. I’m a fucking idiot for not thinking of it.
I’ll have to talk to Bren and Andreas tomorrow about assigning Lola her own security guard.
“We’re fine,” I whisper and rub the back of her hand with my index finger.
Lola smiles up at me as her breathing slowly returns to normal. “I know. It’s just hard getting used to it, you know?”
I smile. “I do know.”
She turns thoughtful for a moment, and her hand drifts to her stomach.
“What is it?” I ask.
Her mouth twists like she’s biting the inside of her cheek. “Umm . . .”
Not this again. The last time she was embarrassed like this, her request wasn’t one I wanted. “Just spit it out,” I say. I’d rather know what she’s thinking.
“Those portions were tiny. Don’t you think?”
I let my head fall back with laughter. “Yeah. They were. You still hungry?”
Her cheeks flush a little, but she nods.
“Me too,” I say with an encouraging smile.
“I know a great place, but we’ll have to ditch the limo,” she says.
I ask our driver to lose the cars trailing us, and he drops us off at a gas station. Lola orders a car with her phone app, and ten minutes later, we’re on our way to get ourselves a second dinner.
“A food truck?” I ask, aghast at where she’s led our driver.
Her smile is wide. “Best tacos in the world. Come on.”
I smile inwardly. She noticed I ordered tacos when we ate at Sofia’s bar together. Several food trucks surround multiple picnic tables and benches. We get out of the car, and Lola walks toward the taco truck in the center.
As we walk, her hands go to her arms, and she rubs them. I should have asked the personal shopper to get her a coat to go with the outfit. I’m so stupid. Taking off my jacket, I wrap it around her shoulders. “Here,” I say and rub the spot over the fabric now covering her arms.
“Thank you.”
After the last person in line ahead of us orders, Lola yells out her order. “Dos ordenes de tacos al pastor por favor,” she says.
The man taking the order does a double take when he sees her, then his smile grows exponentially.
“Lola? Is thatyou?”
She nods with a goofy grin, and he rushes out of the truck. He takes Lola in his arms and lifts her off the ground, spinning her around. “Oh my god,” he says, setting her down again and eyeing her up and down. “You look incredible!”
My jaw clenches.Hands off.
Then the man looks up at me, his arm still wrapped over Lola’s shoulder, my eyes glued to where they connect. “Who’s this?” he asks.
“This is Karl. My boyfriend. Karl, this is Paco. He keeps me fed.”
Paco turns a startled look at Lola. “So you finally dumped that piece of shit, Ethan?”
Her face falls, and my chest constricts. “Yeah,” she whispers.
“Good riddance!” Paco says and finally lets go of Lola to offer me a handshake. I take it, and he holds my hand tight in his grip. “I hope you’re a trade up,” he says, looking me dead in the eye now, “but if you hurt her, I’ll free you of your tongue to maketacos de lenguawith it. You got it?” Despite his threatening words, he is smiling, clearly glad to see Lola with someone other than Ethan. And if he recognizes who I am, he doesn’t care.