The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance by Fabiola Francisco (find a book to read TXT) 📕

“Hey,” Easton’s deep voice draws me out of my wild imagination.

“Yeah?” I look up at him with wide eyes. It’s their first full day in Madrid, and we’ve been walking around after having breakfast at a café I love that has the best croissants.

So far, we’ve walked down the streets, taking in the historic architecture in this city, and passed by the Royal Palace of Madrid. The sound of cars whooshing by reminding us of the busy traffic this city has, but nothing competes with the amount of people filling the city streets. No matter where you turn, you find groups of tourists, families, young kids, older couples. It’s fascinating and overwhelming all at the same time.

“What’s that there?” He points to an archway crowded with people.

“Oh, that leads to the Plaza Mayor,” I tell them, weaving through the crowds of people as we walk toward the main square. It’s a magnificent square spanning out all around. I swear thousands of people could fit at one time.

“Wow,” Faith gasps. It’s lined with buildings that border the square as it opens up before us. Different cafés and restaurants sit on the ground floors of those buildings. Tourists wander around, taking photos and having a cold beer, coffee, or a glass of wine out on the terraces.

“Do those people live there?” Easton points up to a few balconies, where people look down at the square.

“Yeah, they’re apartments. Isn’t that crazy?” I look around, taking it all in.

“Do people spend their lives drinking here?” Faith asks, noticing the time. “It’s not even noon.”

“Welcome to Spain, where the alcohol flows more than the numerous rivers in this country.”

“Damn,” Easton comments.

“I know. It’s crazy, really, but a mid-morning drink is part of the lifestyle. A lot of people drink vermouth—they actually call it the vermouth hour—but I don’t really like it. Others have a beer, a coffee. Really anything you want. I love sitting on the terraces and watching people.” I move around a man taking a picture of a family to not disrupt their photo.

We make our way around, Easton and Faith asking me about the statue of the man on a horse in the middle of the square.

“I honestly have no idea who that is. Maybe an old king?” I shrug. Giving them time to take photos, I take my own, including a video clip for my Instagram story. Social media has been heaven sent when it comes to keeping in touch with my family and friends, allowing them to experience my life in Spain alongside with me.

“Drink?” I lift my eyebrows when Faith and Easton head my way.

“When in Rome…” Faith laughs. Easton wraps his arm around her and looks at her with so much love that I feel a small pang in my chest. If I ever want a chance at what they have, I have to be willing to at least give a guy a chance. Who cares if this isn’t my permanent home so long as I like the person. And who knows? Maybe I’ll fall in love and end up staying in Spain forever.

The idea of missing out on nieces and nephews, being close to my family, makes me somber, but if love wants me here, then love will have me.

Internally shaking my head at myself, we walk to a terrace that has a table available and take a seat, ordering three beers to help cool off on this searing, August day. Sometimes I drive myself crazy with my own thoughts.

After our beers, Easton, Faith, and I make our way to Parque de El Retiro, a huge park in the city with beautiful gardens, monuments, and a lake where you can rent rowboats. It’s all very romantic in retrospect, but it’s also a great place to get lost when the chaos of the city becomes too much to bear. And some days, I need a break in a beautiful place to collect myself when I’m feeling stressed or homesick.

I let Faith and Easton row around the lake while I wander around the park. That way, they can do their cute, couple thing and still feel as if they’re on their honeymoon and not have me third-wheeling. I take advantage of the time by photographing the gardens and observing the nature around me.

Breathing in deeply, I smile to myself as I watch the sun peek through the branches, heating us up like a burning flame. I bunch my hair in my hands and throw it in a ponytail, glad to feel the breeze against the back of my damp neck.

When I make my way back to the boats, I smile as I see Easton and Faith in the distance, laughing and taking pictures. I’m definitely going to miss them when they leave on Monday, but I’m so freaking grateful they popped over here on their way back home. Shaking away any sadness, I come up with our evening plans. Yesterday we took it slow with our tapas, but tonight I plan to show them Madrid’s nightlife. First, we need to have lunch and a nap, because I cannot party like I used to when I was in my early twenties. And fiesta and siesta must rhyme for a reason.

Excited about tonight, I sit on a nearby bench and resist the urge to check my phone in case Camden has viewed more of my pictures.

chapter 7

Camden

“What you’re telling me is that you slept with Easton’s sister?” I look at Luke’s wide eyes as I take a drink of scotch. Luke and I have been friends for years, Easton also being a friend of his. We all met in college, and I’m not one bit surprised by the shock painted on his face.

No longer able to deal with my inner turmoil, I caved and called him up to meet at a bar and tell him what happened. I figured talking to someone about it would put things