I was sitting in bed with Alba dozing on my chest when her mother’s number flashed on my screen.

“Maritza, buenos dias,” I said in a low voice, so I didn’t startle my convalescent, but the mere mention of her mother had her popping up her head and blinking like a baby owl at me. It was so fucking cute.

“My mom,” she mouthed, then frowned. I help up a finger and grinned when she snapped her jaw like she was going to bite it off. Threats of violence aside it was good to see she was feeling better.

“Hi, Theo, just calling to see how she’s doing.” There was no mistaking the mix of guilt and love in Alba’s mother’s voice. The two of us had had a long talk the night before and just from that I could sense how proud she was of her daughter and how much she worried about her.

“She’s doing better,” I reassured her and heard a sigh of relief on the other line.

Alba on her end was making an X with her arm and silently screaming don’t you dare say I’m in bed with you.

I grinned evilly in response. “Let me get her for you, she’s—”

“We were about to have breakfast,” I lied, and handed her the phone, but not before whispering something dirty in her ear.

“Hey, Mami, I’m okay, feeling much better,” she told her mother, while she pinned me to the bed with a finger. She looked better this morning. She’d barely moved all night and woken up with a sweet smile on her lips. I could make it my mission in life to make sure Alba Duarte woke up every day with a reason to smile.

“Give me a second, Ma, let me call you from my phone.” With that she ended the call and glared at me. “How come my mother is calling you?”

“Because I called her yesterday after you passed out on set.”

“How did you even know her number?”

I rolled my eyes at that. “First of all you worked for me for three years and had your emergency contacts, so technically I could’ve gotten it from the old records.” She sneered at that, but with all those wild curls around her head, it just made her look cute as fuck. “I called Julia and asked her. After we talked, I told Maritza she could call to check in on you whenever she wanted.” Her nightshirt had slid off from one shoulder. The messy bun she’d tied on top of her head had loosened during the night and there was a massive riot of curls sticking up in every direction. She looked mussed, and a little less exhausted, and I had never seen anything more perfect in my life.

“You were really nice to me yesterday,” she finally said. She almost sounded confused.