Chapter One
My dearest Estrella,
I am writing this letter in hopes you will one dayread it. I am not sure if I have the strength to place it inyour hand, or if you’ll read this from home in Canada.That is your home, is it not? Not here, with me inMadrid. I don’t deserve that. I would ask for you topardon my English but I believe you have pardonedenough of me so far.
All I can say is that I’m sorry. Lo siento, lo siento,lo siento. And it is not enough. I know it is not enough.To tell you how much my heart is bleeding with you goneis not enough. To tell you that you are my stars and mymoon and my universe…it is not enough. I don’t know ifanything will be enough to take back the pain I havecaused you. I don’t know if anything will be enough tomake things right.
I am wounded, my dear angel, and I fear you arewounded too.
I will not make excuses. But I will explain where Iwent wrong and why it happened. It doesn’t changeanything, but if you can understand the shoes I am in,maybe you will know…
I never wanted to hurt you.
I know you saw me and Isabel on the street. When Ilooked up, I saw you running away. You stand out on thestreets of Madrid like a sore thumb, but that does notsound very flattering, does it? Funny little phrase. Youstand out—always—to me. I feel as if we are connectedin ways I cannot even begin to understand, and whenyou are near, I know. My heart races. It is a peculiarthing, this heart, is it not?
I know that after the night before, seeing me kissher must have hurt like an arrow in your chest. Butnothing is the way that you see it. But before I begin, Imust go back. I must start from where I think the threadsbegan to unravel.
When we first parted ways in Las Palabras, I knewI would see you again. I knew I would do whatever I hadto in order to bring you back into my life. When I said Icouldn’t see the stars from the city, I was not kidding.The skies here are dark and grey, and so was my heart,so was my life.
Chloe Ann was the only bright spot in my day, andsoon I knew I had to make a decision. Do I stay withIsabel for my daughter’s sake? Or do I risk it for you?
As you know, I risked it. I figured, vainly perhaps,that if I stayed unhappy with Isabel, Chloe Ann would beable to tell and she would be unhappy too. Children aresmarter than we give them credit for, are they not? Andso I thought I had to end it. I was not happy. I knewIsabel was not happy. There was more to my black andwhite world than the path I was supposed to stick to.
You brought me colors and stars and cosmos andwonders. I wanted you so badly, craved you so much,that I knew I would suffer whatever bad things wouldcome my way. There would be repercussions for myactions—I knew this, and I knew no one but you wouldunderstand.
Life is full of hard choices.
I chose you.
Isabel could hardly believe it. I can’t blame her. Insome ways, I couldn’t believe it either. That I was doingthis, taking this step, and risking it all on you. You, Vera,were the unknown. You still are. But I had faith in whatwe had, that our connection was more than lust andromance…it was deeper and brighter than that.
No one believed me. Why should they? They see ithappen all the time, the man approaching middle-age,trading in his wife for a younger one. They said I wasthinking with my cock, that I was caught up in the sexand the shiny new thing that you were. Of course, I wasenamored with you, of course the sex was better than Icould have ever imagined. But they didn’t understandthe truth behind all of it. They didn’t believe I was inlove with you.
I don’t even think you believed it. But of course Iam, more now than ever. And love makes you do sillythings.
In what you would call hindsight, I see now that itwas reckless and impulsive of me to ask you to move toSpain. I should have waited until the divorce was final. Ishould have waited until you were out of school.
I was foolish and very selfish and very scared. Icould only see you, only think of you. I just wanted youhere so badly, and I was afraid that if I waited, youwould leave me. You would find someone better,someone your own age with less baggage. Sometimes itsurprises me that you could even want me at all.
But you did. You agreed to come here, and eventhough I knew deep down it would be better for everyoneif we waited until the dust settled, I risked it. I wouldhave walked over burning coals for you, just to have youin my arms. I would have put the whole world injeopardy just to be inside you again.
I should have been the adult here. I should haveknown better. But my heart got the best of me. I broughtyou here, right into the flames. I thought I could shelteryou from the heat, that I could protect you, that I couldride out the inferno with you safely under my arm.
But I was wrong. And because of my recklessness,you had to suffer. I had to suffer. My daughter had tosuffer. Everyone is suffering.
And you are gone.
The other night when Isabel showed up, that wasthe hardest night of my life, harder than the night wemade love at Las Palabras, knowing we had to saygoodbye the next day.
I never wanted it to happen that way. I neverwanted Isabel to see you, nor you to see her. I knew youwere already wrapped in guilt, and I knew Isabel wouldonly hurt. She is a beautiful woman and she is stillyoung. But seeing you—so fresh and shining so brightly,it would have only destroyed her, made her feel old, weak, useless. Those feelingswould turn to anger, and her anger is a sharp anddangerous object.
But you came to the lobby—I cannot fault yourcuriosity—and the two of you met. Isabel was destroyed,and her drunken anger took over. You could only watch.
I could only watch.
I wanted to defend you. In my heart I did. But toyour eyes I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I told you that one day I’d have to choose betweenyou and Chloe Ann. I suppose at that moment, I had tomake that choice. I had to play right by Isabel. I couldn’tchoose you, because if I did, I would lose all contactwith Chloe Ann. I was at Isabel’s mercy, and she had meby the balls.
It is complicated. It is so complicated. All thesethreads and knots wrapped around all of our necks,tying us to one another. If one moves, the other feels it,loses air. I defended Isabel, and the rope tightenedaround your throat. If I defended you, the rope would besevered between me and my daughter.
I cannot expect you to understand. You are not aparent. You don’t have to make the horrible choices—ormaybe you do. Maybe you just made a horrible choice ofyour own by leaving me. All I can say is there is nowinning. How do you choose between your own fleshand blood and the love of your life? You can’t really…Icould only choose because Chloe Ann is young andneeds me. She wouldn’t understand the choice. But you,Vera, you might understand. You might see where I amcoming from. You might be able to forgive me.
Please forgive me.
That night I went back home. I don’t feel I have toassure you that nothing happened between Isabel and I—but nothing did happen. I talked to Chloe Ann. I triedto make as much peace with Isabel as I could in herdrunken state. I at least got her to calm down. I slept onthe couch.
The next morning, I woke up early and madebreakfast. The three of us sat together, as a family, forthe last time. Isabel was terribly hung over but she hadsoftened. Perhaps she finally saw how over it was andhow there would be no us, no going back. What wasdone was done.
So we put on sad smiles and ate, and Chloe Annwas delighted to have us all back together. Our smilesgot sadder.
Then Isabel drove me home.
You see, love is a strange thing. It can disappearcompletely. It can leave you, so far gone it is just a markon the horizon, and you wonder how you ever felt love tobegin with. But even with it gone, fragments still remain.There are imprints. You can destroy a house and ruin itto the ground but you’ll see indents in the earth, the waythe ground is different where the house once was.
We talked, Isabel and I, for a long time. She wasstill angry, bitter, as I expect she’ll be for a long time. Iwould be too, if I were in her shoes. Perhaps this is whatmakes everything so much harder, that I know howothers see me, that what I’ve done is reprehensible tothem. But she had relented to what was, to the newreality. And in our words about the past and the presentand the future, I could see the remains of what once was,see the ghost of our marriage, that time when we had abit of hope for each other.
I am not in love with Isabel. I am in love with you. Ido not even love Isabel. I love you. But for that moment,I cared about her more than I had in a long time. Iworried for her. I wanted to make things right, eventhough it seemed impossible. Perhaps it was because Iknew this was really the end, and it was time for us bothto move on for good.
I kissed her goodbye without a second thought. It isin my nature to be physical. It is in my nature to betender. There was no meaning in it except for sinkinginto old habits and the bittersweet notion of sayinggoodbye. You see, though I no longer love Isabel, theghost of the marriage still remained. I said goodbye tothat ghost.
Of course, I know how that all looked to you, and Icannot blame you for running, blame you for leaving.Things had gotten hard, and I was shouldering so much,hoping you could shoulder it too. I should have never putyou in this position and dragged you all the way herewhen things were so unbalanced, but fools are those whofall in love, and I was a fool. I still am. And for any griefand pain I have caused you, my dearest Estrella, I amdeeply sorry.
All I can say is, if I ever get a chance again, I willnot mess it up. I will be good to you. I will be better thangood. And I will fight. Even if you pull away, I will pullyou back. I just hope you have enough room in yourheart for a tired old fool like me who still makesmistakes when he should know better.
I love you.
Come back to me, my Estrella.
Mateo.
I stare at the letter in my hands as I do every night whenI wake up and can’t fall back asleep. I can barely seefrom the light filtering in through the curtains, but Iknow every word, every sentence, by heart. This is toremind me what I’m fighting for, to remind me how hardit was when Vera left me nearly a year ago.
I never gave her the letter. I’ve explained, in person,the feelings I expressed in it. I brushed away her doubtswhen they came crawling—she has so many of themsometimes. But I never gave it to her. There was noneed. I wrote the letter and sat in my apartment, my headin my hands, my heart breaking, and I realized it wasn’tenough.
Vera deserved more than just a letter. She deservedeverything I had. With some difficulty I was able tospeak with Vera’s brother and mother in Vancouver andoffer to buy her flight home. I told her mother—pricklything that she is—that Vera needed to be with family,those that love her.
I love her. She is my family.
It was a gamble. I didn’t know if she’d even be onthe plane, let alone willing to forgive me. So I took thetime to make sure everything was right. I spoke to Isabel,several times, and did my best to try and get her to seemy point of view. I didn’t want to lose joint custody ofChloe Ann; I didn’t want her to grow up without afather.
Isabel almost relented. It took padding thesettlement with extra cash to finally get her to agree. Ofcourse, it was worth it. To have my daughter, I wouldhave paid anything.
To have Vera back, I would have done everything.
Once I was at the airport, I waited in thebackground as the plane boarded. I was sure I lookedsuspicious, but I didn’t want to give Vera a reason toback out. I felt her before I saw her, her aura pulling mein like gravity. She looked absolutely beautiful, so muchso that I could barely stand on my own two feet andwatch as she walked past. Radiant pain spread throughmy chest, and I was certain I was having a heart attack.But it was just the impact of seeing her and the pain thatI might still lose her in the end.
I’m normally a confident man—my career hasinstilled that in me. But at that moment, I felt drained ofit. I headed to the washroom to splash water on my face.I stared at myself in the mirror and didn’t see a confidentman in a sharp suit. I saw a little boy whose heart lay insomeone else’s hands.
I walked on the plane last minute and readiedmyself as I made my way down the aisle. I ignored theannoyed stares of the people who had to wait for me, andheld my breath until I saw her.
Vera’s body was angled toward the window, herhair covering her face. She looked both small and wild,and I itched to touch those shiny curls that ran down herback, the color of orange cream. The woman on the aislewas staring at me with blatant disappointment—shethought she wouldn’t have anyone sitting next to her thewhole trip. Little did she know, all my attention wouldbe on the other seat during the flight.
My patience was tested. I sat there, still as stone,my eyes solely on Vera, during taxi, take-off, when wereached cruising altitude. From the way her back roseand the occasional quiet whimper that escaped, I knewshe was crying. It took everything I had not to breakdown myself. I wanted to kiss those tears away.
But I would wait for her to discover me.
Finally, she did. She adjusted herself in her seat andelbowed me. I’d never smiled so wide.
“Sorry,” she mumbled in her wonderful smokyvoice, still not turning around.
I licked my lips and breathed in deeply before Isaid, “I am sorry too.”
Her body stiffened. She slowly turned her head, andmy smile grew soft at the sight of her reddened eyes andthe tracks of tears beneath them. She looked impossiblystunned, like she’d seen a ghost. Only I was noapparition; I was real.
Instead of giving her the letter, I opened up and laidit all out there for her to see, no stone unturned. Thething I was most afraid of was having my heart, my loverejected, for her to turn her back. It was her right to doso, and yet I wished for nothing more than anotherchance.
But Vera, such a generous, willing soul, didn’treject me. She gave me love in return, love that she saidhad never left her.
We landed in Vancouver to see her mother andbrother, Josh, at the airport. Naturally they weresurprised to see me, and I was surprised to see them—atleast her mother. She had sounded so harsh and coldover the phone, yet there she was, waiting for herdaughter to return, shocked that the adulterer was by herside. If looks could kill, I would have turned to ash rightthere on the airport floor.
It wasn’t an easy couple of days. I was glad I hadpacked that letter in my carry-on, because it remindedme to hold on. Her mother and sister and future brother-in-law from England all seemed to despise me,especially when they realized that we were heading rightback to Madrid. At one point, the English asshole pulledme aside and asked me why I couldn’t go back to mywife and leave a young girl like Vera alone.
I nearly punched him in the face, but I knew thatwouldn’t help our case. Vera and I were used to beingsneered at by this point, and though she said she didn’tcare what her family thought, I could still see it in theway she carried herself that she did. Even though it hadwaned since I met her, the need for her family’s approvalwas still there.
Thank god for Josh, who was the only smart, kind,and decent one in her family. With his black edgy hairand tattoos, he was definitely one of those people youwanted to judge before you knew them, but he wasVera’s biggest supporter and the saving grace for ourbrief stay.
That wasn’t the last time we’d see them, though.Just after Christmas we went back, but this time we hadreinforcements—our friends Claudia and Ricardo. Wewent primarily so that Vera could send in her workpermit application that Las Palabras had arranged, butthe ski trip to Whistler with everyone, including Josh,didn’t hurt. A week blasting down the slopes andrelaxing with friends and family seemed to be just the thing we needed.
When we left it was still a bit up in the air whetherVera would return to Vancouver for her sister’s weddingin July or not. I told her I would go with her if she did, ifshe wanted me to, and I’d support her if she didn’t. Inthe end, she opted to stay in Spain, and I think she pissedoff her family once again. It was also up in the airwhether Vera would actually get a work permit throughLas Palabras. But there were other routes she could takein order to stay and work in the country, and in the endthe Spanish government granted her six months at LasPalabras and to reapply again when the time was up.Either way, she wouldn’t have to leave Spain if shedidn’t want to.
And yet, as she lies beside me, sleeping silently inthe night’s hazy wash of indigo, I have this unsettledfeeling deep in my chest. It’s what has kept me up allmonth, more so than the stifling August heat. It’s thisfeeling that everything is about to change for us.
It’s partly my fault, although the change is for whatI hope is the better. Over the last six months, we’vesettled into a steady and comfortable routine. Vera worksat Las Palabras from 9 a.m. till 2 p.m. most days of theweek, and though it’s just an office job, she seems toenjoy it. She takes Spanish classes on Tuesday nights.She has her friends, Claudia and Ricardo, plus a fewothers from the program, and her new job. Chloe Annlives with Isabel but I get her Wednesdays and eitherSaturday or Sunday. Isabel is cold but courteous to me,and she’s only had to interact with Vera once or twice.It’s awkward for everyone—it always is—but it worksfor now.
But for me, things have become a little too stagnant.Falling in love with Vera and escaping an unhappymarriage has opened my mind, my soul, up to myriad ofpossibilities. The restaurant business wasn’t for meanymore, and it isn’t where my passion lies, so I sold itto my partner. What I really want is to feel thatexcitement again, the one I had when I was younger andbelieved I could do anything. I want something else inmy life to fulfill me the way the love of Vera and ChloeAnn does.
I really didn’t think it was possible, but after thepaparazzi got a whiff of my divorce and Vera and Istarted showing up unceremoniously in the tabloids, myface got back out there. From one ugly thing a promisingstart was born.
A few months ago I was contacted by my oldfootball team—Atlético Madrid—and asked if I had anyinterest in the team anymore. The fact that I was turningthirty-nine and still had my knee injury didn’t seem tomatter. They didn’t want me to play for them—theyknew that my time in the sun had set—but they wantedto know if I could somehow involve myself with theorganization. Perhaps they thought my newfoundattention would help bolster theirs, I don’t know, butsuddenly I was worth something to them.
At first it was a few meetings, a couple of chatshere and there. With the coach, then the generalmanager, then the owner. Maybe I wanted to donatesome money, host an event, become a mentor. Theywere full of ideas at first. Then it led to talks aboutassistant coaching, which after a while petered off.
I tried not to get my hopes up, but like most thingsin life, the hope sneaks in. I felt acute disappointmentwhen I hadn’t heard from them and poor Vera had to putup with my moping around the apartment for days onend.
That was until Friday afternoon, when I got a phonecall from the manager. They wanted me to meet them forlunch at Fioris Café on Monday, which it technically isright now, to discuss an urgent matter.
It’s no wonder that I can’t sleep. I only pray it’s justmy nerves that are having their way with me, that thereis no real reason for the sense of foreboding that I have.
Vera turns over in our bed, her hair spilling aroundher face, her breasts nearly coming free of the delicatestraps of her top. Her skin is white silk scattered withcolorful art. I’d never really found tattoos sexy until Imet her and saw the way they shaped her, how theyrepresented a million stories, emotions, expressions.
Her eyes slowly flutter open and she stares at mewith this hazy, sleepy look. “What are you doing?” sheasks softly.
I slip the letter back in the drawer. I know she’sseen me reading it before. She’s never asked what it is,but I can tell she knows it means something to me and Irespect that. I would gladly show her the letter, but thereason why I’m reading it may be unnerving for her.She’s been a bit on edge lately, like someone is ready topull the rug out from under her, and I don’t want to giveher anything else to worry about.
My fears are just that—my fears. She shouldn’thave to shoulder them.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I tell her with a small smile. I getoff the chair and stretch, my arms high above my head.Her eyes widen appreciatively at the sight of me. I’vestarted sleeping in the nude.
She pulls her eyes away long enough to ask, “Areyou nervous about tomorrow?”
I nod, letting out a small sigh, and come over to thebed, climbing back under the covers, which is comprisedof just a sheet now in these hot August nights. I lay myhead on the pillow and stare into her eyes, pushing backstrands of silk hair behind her ears. She gives me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worryabout it. I’m sure whatever they want to talk to youabout is a good thing.”
“I hope so,” I admit.
“I know so.”
I grin at her. “You seem to know so much in themiddle of the night.”
She cocks a brow. “Didn’t you know? I’m at mybest at this time. Want me to show you?”
I can never say no to that. Her lids become heavy,mouth full, wet and parted in anticipation. Thatsuggestive look is all I need to become hard.
She leans over and kisses me softly. My tongueexplores her mouth in a luxurious fashion, slowlybuilding a hot need between us. While my hand slips tothe back of her neck, pulling her toward me, her fingerstrail from the rough stubble on my chin down my chestand the firm ridges of my stomach, and wrap around mystiff cock.
I groan, closing my eyes to her grip as she makes afist and lightly skims the length of me up and down.
“If you keep doing that,” I manage to say againsther mouth, “the show will be over pretty quickly.”
She chuckles and pulls away, her lips skirting mychin, neck, chest. “As long as I give you a good show, Idon’t mind.”
Normally when one of us wakes up in the middle ofthe night feeling amorous, a sleepy, hazy form of sextakes place. One of the best kinds of sex. But if she’swilling and wanting to give me a blow job, I have noinclination to stop her. A true gentleman never stops awoman from doing what she desires.
Her lips slide down from my stomach to the tip ofmy shaft, and she takes me whole and deep into hermouth. I don’t know where Vera learned her skills—andI never want to know—but I’m eternally grateful forthem. With her mouth, tongue, and hand working inunison, I succumb to the sensation, the warmth floodingthrough my limbs. My fingers curl into her hair, grippingtight.
When her other hand goes to my balls, cuppingthem with just enough pressure to drive me wild, I can’thelp but yank at her hair. “Fuck,” I whimper. “Oh fuck,Vera. Fuck yes. More.”
She picks up the pace, and I begin thrusting my hipsup, my cock going as deep into her throat as possible,her lips enveloping me like a velvet glove. I come hardand she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop until there’snothing left in me.
I’m left panting on the bed, the waves bringing medeeper into the mattress, my hands letting go of her hair.I hear her swallow and wipe her lips, like thewonderfully bad girl that she is, and I open my eyes tosee her smiling at me in the dim light. She looks awfullyproud of herself, as she should.
“Your turn,” I tell her, trying to get up, but shepushes her hand into my chest so I’m lying back down.
“You can deal with me tomorrow,” she says, takinga sip of water. “I’m exhausted. Your cock takes a lot ofwork there, big boy.”
I can’t help but grin at her flattering choice ofwords. “You spoil me.”
She smiles like she knows it’s true then kisses mequickly on the lips before rolling over on her side so herback is to me. I scoop my arms around her waist and pullher into me, not wanting to fall asleep without her in myarms.
A few moments pass and our breathing lengthens.Outside, a car putters down the street. Everything else isquiet.
“I love you,” I whisper into her ear.
My voice seems to echo in the room. She’s already asleep.