Chapter Twelve
I’m normally a good flier but I have never been so nervous on a plane before. This is far more nerve-wracking than going on the plane to stop Vera. The man sitting next to me in business class keeps asking me if I’m all right. It’s kind of him but I don’t dare get into specifics, so I just tell him I have a fear of flying.
To distract myself, I bring out the wrinkled letter from my wallet. I read it again and again. I no longer need any reminders of what I’m fighting for because I’m heading straight to her, and I am fighting with all I have. But it still brings me a sense of peace and calm. It’s familiar and soothing and it brings me back to all those nights that I spent reading it, wondering about the future.
Now I know the future. It won’t be by chance, it will be by choice. If—when—I bring Vera back to Spain, it will be another lease on life for us. The same problems we face may still be there, waiting in the bushes. Perhaps not in the form of Carlos Cruz, but in other ways. But at least I know she cannot be taken from me. I can face anything as long as she is by my side.
When the flight lands in Vancouver, I bring out my phone and her mother’s address, and step into the blazing hot sunshine. It’s almost as if Madrid and Vancouver have traded Septembers. It seems more fitting this way, that the heat and sun follows Vera just as I do.
As I wait in the line for the taxis, I send her a text. It’s noon here, which isn’t an unusual time for her to hear from me.
What are you doing? I text.
I’m in a cab by the time she replies: Mercy and dickhead are over for lunch so I’m hiding in my room. How are you baby? I had a dream last night about you, it made me so sad this morning when I realized it was only a dream.
I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. It does feel like a dream, as if it won’t happen, but I am on her soil, in her time, under her sun and sky.
Sometimes dreams come true, I text her back, biting my lip as I do so.
I know they do. I wouldn’t have met you if they didn’t.
My heart flutters at that and I take in a deep breath. Now my nerves are perking up, creating a knot in my stomach. It’s a good knot, holding excitement and promise.
If you could see the stars from where you are, I text her, would you make a wish on a shooting one? What would you wish for?
There is a pause before she answers: You. I watch the stars every night and I wish for you over and over again.
You have me.
I know. But I don’t have you here. Nothing is the same without you.
So your wish, more than anything, would be for me to show up at your doorstep and sweep you off your feet all over again??
I’m already swept off my feet. You did that the day I met you and I haven’t come down yet.
Vera doesn’t always text with so much emotion, so to read this from her makes me ache. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I was reading this, alone in Madrid, knowing how much longer I would have to wait.
Her mother’s house isn’t too far from the airport and the traffic at this time is kinder than Madrid’s. It’s not long before the cab is pulling up to the curb.
I tell the driver to keep going a few houses down, just in case there is someone nosy watching at the window. The trees here that line the street are still green, with only a tinge of rust in some of them, signaling the fall. I take off my jacket, feeling the warmth, and then freeze in my shoes when I spot someone coming up the street toward me.
It’s Josh, hands in his pockets, head down and listening to music. He’s wearing all black—black boots, black jeans, a black denim jacket, and he stands out like a dark mark on the green street. He only looks up just before he heads down the path to the house, and when he does, he does a double take and stops dead in his tracks.
He lifts the headphones off his ears and stares at me in disbelief. “Mateo?” he asks incredulously.
I offer him a wave of my hand and an easy smile. “Hola, Josh.”
I walk over to him and he’s still staring at me with wide eyes.
“I, uh,” he says, his eyes darting to the house and back, “Vera never told me you were coming.”
I shrug. “Vera doesn’t know.”
Now Josh is smiling. “Dude,” he says, “you aregoing to make her fucking year. Hey, good to see you,man.”
He puts his hand out for me to shake. I take it butpull him into a quick embrace. He’s a little bit taller thanme, but Vera herself is pretty tall for a woman. Goodgenes.
When we pull apart he doesn’t seem toouncomfortable with the affection. I forget that men inNorth America can be a bit funny about physicalgreetings, and he’s a man who I thought, and still hope,will be my brother-in-law one day.
“Good to see you too,” I tell him, and I mean it. Igive the house an anxious glance. “I just texted herbefore. Your sister and brother-in-law are home, yes?”
Josh grimaces. “Ugh, probably. I just got off myshift at work.” He gives me a reassuring smile and patsme on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”
I know he does but I’m worrying anyway.
“Well, come on, let’s go put a smile on my sister’sface.” He gestures for me to follow, and I do so up thestone path to the front door of the elegant house. He triesthe door and it opens, and we step inside.
Voices drift down the stairs, coming from thekitchen. I recognize her mother’s, her sister’s, and thestupid English fellow. Vera really must be hiding out inher room.
I swallow down the pit of nervousness. I’m afucking grown man for Christ’s sake, I shouldn’t bescared of her family, but there is that twinge ofapprehension as I prepare to face off against people whodon’t care for me, maybe even despise me. You’d thinkafter everything that has happened to me so far, I wouldbe used to it.
We walk up the stairs, and as soon as we are in thekitchen, three flabbergasted heads swirl toward me.
“Look who I found outside,” Josh says in a lowvoice.
Vera’s mother is the first to shut her gaping mouth.Her chin juts out and she squints at me through herglasses. She’d be a beautiful woman if she didn’t look sounhappy all the time. “Oh,” she says.
Mercy is still aghast, thin brows raised. She doesn’tlook much like Vera—too thin, too tanned, dressed inskinny jeans and a thin white sweater. She’s not badlooking by any means but with her too-sleek hair andface full of makeup she reminds me too much of Isabel.
Then there is her new husband, Charles. He’s reallytoo bland to describe. He reminds me of a blanchedalmond with glasses.
But my manners should never desert me.
I nod at Mercy and Charles and say with as muchsincerity as I can muster, “Congratulations on yourwedding. I saw the photos and it looked absolutelybeautiful. I know Vera and I wish you both a happymarriage.”
He is the first to snap out of it. He looks surprisedand gives me a nod. “Oh, well thank you.”
“Yes,” Mercy says, but her tone is cautioning. “I’msure you must know a lot about marriage.”
“Mercy,” Josh says sharply, but she merely looks ather mother, I suppose to see what kind of remark she’sgoing to throw in there. I can’t say I’m hurt or shockedby this.
“We weren’t expecting you,” her mother saysquickly, and to her credit she shoots Mercy a glare.When she looks back at me, she gives me an uneasysmile. “Vera never said anything about it. Not that sheever tells us anything.”
And why should she? I think.
“Vera doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Oh?” she says, sounding interested now. Sheadjusts her glasses. “A surprise visit?”
“More or less,” I tell her. And suddenly I’mimpatient to see Vera. I give them all a nod. “If you’llexcuse me though, I should go to her.”
I turn, giving Josh an appreciative look, and thenhead down the hallway toward her bedroom. But it’s nother bedroom, and this isn’t her house, and she’s not athome. She’s just in transition, even if she doesn’t knowit yet.
Outside her door I pause, and I can feel her energycoming through the wood. It makes my hairs stand onend, puts flames to every part of my body. I am so closeI can’t even stand it.
I take in a deep breath and then knock.
There is silence, then a shuffling sound, and agrumpy cry of, “What? I’m taking a nap.”
I smile to myself at that and then slowly open thedoor.
She’s in her bed and under the covers, her wild hairspilling over the pillow. Her eyes are closed and theminute that I shut the door behind me, they snap open.
“Actually, it’s called a siesta,” I tell her.
She sits up and blinks at me for a few moments,looking both girlish and sexual. “Am I dreaming?” Andthen she seems to actually believe she is because shepinches the tattoo on her forearm.
“Pinching won’t do,” I say, and before my heart canexplode, I cross the room and lean over her bed, kissingher long, deep, and soft on the lips. I hear her gasp undermy lips and tongue and feel her tremble as my handscoast into the satin waves of her hair.
I’m enveloped by everything she offers—her taste,her smell, her touch, her feel. I could die a very happyman right now. My own heart thumps rapidly, loudly,out of control, as if even it can’t deal with the fact that Ihave my love in my arms again.
“Mateo,” she whimpers against me, and then I tastethe salt of her tears as they roll toward our hungry,deprived mouths.
I can’t get any closer to her, can’t hold on to herany tighter, and yet she feels just like I’ve dreamed.Real. Whole. Loved. I feel like I’m dying and beingreborn at the same time.
“My Estrella,” I manage to murmur as I start to kissevery square inch of her face. “I’ve come to take youhome.”
“How are you here?” she says, her nails digginginto the back of my shirt. “How is this possible?”
“I am here because you are mine,” I tell her, kissingher behind the ear and breathing in deeply. “And I amyours. I belong with you, and you belong with me. Idon’t care which country or where or under what starsbut without you, I’m only me.”
“Oh, Mateo” she says softly, her voice choked. Shecups the back of my head with a delicate hand and holdsme close to her. “I’m so glad you came. I don’t think Icould have survived another day. Being apart from you .. . it’s been destroying me more than I’ve let you know. I. . . I’m in so much pain all the time.”
“Shhh,” I gently reassure her, my fingers trailingdown her back. “You don’t have to be in pain anymore. Iam here. I am not leaving without you by my side.”
She swallows loudly and buries her head into thecrook of my neck. Her lips tickle my collarbone as shespeaks, and it sends a wave of pleasure down my chest.“But how can we do this? I still can’t go back to Spainyet and you can’t be without Chloe Ann.”
“That is what I thought too,” I admit, kissing therim of her earlobe. She shivers. “But then I realized Iwasn’t looking hard enough. Are you ready to hear theplan? Because we can be together, from this momentforward. It just depends on you.”
She pulls away and stares at me deeply with red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll do whatever,” she whispers, and cupsmy face with her hands. “You know I’ll do whatever.”
I didn’t know that, but now I do. I close my eyesand breathe a sigh of relief, feeling foolish for evendoubting her to begin with. Distance does funny thingsto truth, twists it and paints one side with doubt.
I brush her hair from her face and kiss her gently.“That is good to hear. You don’t understand how muchI’ve worried about you, that . . . perhaps you’ve learnedto love me less while you’ve been here.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “What? How could youthink that? Mateo, I’ve been dying without you.”
I smile gently. “That shouldn’t make me happy butit does. Especially because you don’t have to dieanymore. Vera, I’ve contacted the University of Madrid.They will take you in as a student—now—and you canstart the semester just a little late. You’re smart. You cancatch up.”
She stares at me, brows knitting together. “How isthat possible?”
“Let’s just say that I have my ways.”
“You bribed them?”
I hope she doesn’t get funny over this. I exhalequietly. “Yes. In one way or another.”
Although in reality it is a lot more straightforwardthan that. I wrote a check for her tuition for the first year,and then I added an extra ten thousand dollars to thatcheck. A nice little donation for whatever departmentneeds it the most. Under budget lately, they gladly tookit.
“Oh,” she says softly.
I grab her hands, shaking them slightly. “This wasthe only way, and it is a good way. It is all in place. Youwill take Spanish as your main degree. It isn’tastronomy, but they said something about online classes used in the future, and there arehospitality and tourism classes offered in English, verypopular with people from the UK. I know it’s not idealbut once your university here in BC pushes through withyour transcript, they seem to think you can still walk outwith a bachelor’s degree. It just might take longer thanusual. But more than that, the visa will let you live in thecountry for another few years, and that’s all that reallymatters at this point.”
“What happens after that?” she asks warily.
I squeeze her hands. “We will be together,somehow, some way. Perhaps you can get a job throughmy work or we can apply for common law after a while.With the time this allows us, we can work something outtogether.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat.“Please tell me you’ll do this.”
She slumps slightly. “Of course I will. It’s just a lotto take in . . .”
“You knew I was going to pay for the tuitionanyway.”
“I know,” she says, looking down at our entwinedhands. “I just feel bad that you have to take care of me.”
“Vera,” I tell her, “I don’t have to take care of you.You can take care of yourself. I want to take care of you.Please let me.”
She nods quickly, and a tear slides down her cheek.“Okay.” She looks up at me and her smile is brighterthan the sun. I immediately feel warmer. “Okay. Thankyou.”
Yet I should be thanking her. I pull her to me andhold her tight, feeling the happiness radiate from withinme, within her. We stay like that for a few moments, justfeeling heartbeats, skin, and breath.
“So what do I need to do?” she asks me.
I slowly get to my feet and stand above her,stretching my arms and getting the ten-hour flight out ofmy system. I’m suddenly exhausted.
“I have the forms with me,” I say, gesturing to mycarry-on I left behind her door. “You’ll fill them in justas if you were a first year student. They already have thetuition. I’ll courier it to them and then we take youracceptance letter to the Spanish consulate here and getyour visa rolling.”
“How long is it going to take?” she asks.
I shrug. “They assured me it wouldn’t be long.Maybe a few weeks.”
“So when are you going back?”
I grin down at her. “Estrella, I am not going backwithout you.”
“But Chloe Ann, your job . . . you just started.”
“It’s all right,” I tell her reassuringly. “I spoke withPedro, Diego, Warren . . . this is the best time for me togo. In the future, I won’t have so much time. And mydaughter is fine, we will see her as usual when we getback. Let’s just have a vacation while we wait.”
“But what if the paparazzi start up again when Ireturn?” she asks. “What if that spurs Isabel and herfamily into another tirade against us?”
I sigh, my heart still heavy over that. “We can onlyjust survive it. Hold our heads high. It’s not going to beeasy, and I still don’t think it’s going to go awaycompletely. But at least the settlement has preventedCruz from saying anything, and with you in the countrylegally, there is nothing anyone can do to us. It will hurtand sting at times when they throw around the lies, butwe are strong enough to withstand it now.” I kiss herhand and stare at her deeply. “I think we will always payfor our sins, Vera, but our sins have been worth it.Haven’t they?”
She nods. “I’d walk through coals for you.”
“You already have,” I say. “And I wish you didn’thave to. But it is what it is.”
“And it’s beautiful,” she says. Then she gets out ofbed and wraps her arms around me.
It is beautiful.