Page 64 of It Takes Three To Tango

“If you stay, then he’ll stop your allowance.” She repeats the same threat he gave me.

“Well, if he’s in debt, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was thinking of stopping it anyway.” A vein in her cheek gives her away. “Hewasgoing to stop it anyway, wasn’t he? His threat wasn’t idle, but it won’t make a difference whether I come back, will it?”

“No. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” She sighs.

“Too late. I’m not going anywhere. Like Rafe said, I choose my family.” I leave her to finish packing, but I can’t bring myself to say goodbye; my blood is boiling too much. Instead, I go in search of those who I want to be with.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Constantin pokes his head round the door of the Hollywood room.

“It’s going well,” I say, indicating my work laid out in front of me. “But I don’t think Flo is very happy right now.”

After his sister left earlier, he was in here with me for a while, but he couldn’t seem to settle and I haven’t seen him for the past hour. I couldn’t understand most of what she said when I was making breakfast, but her tone wasn’t pleasant, and Florencio was tense most of the time. Her entire visit has cast a heavy air of disquiet over the house. I feel it, and Constantin seems to as well.

“I think we all need some cheering up,” he says.

“We definitely have to do something,” I agree.

I close my laptop, and as we walk to the kitchen, I ask Constantin about his day. He’s been down at the bar all day, going through the last of the repair work with the builders.

“Good, they’re just finishing the plastering. It needs to dry for a few days and then it can be painted.”

“Are you still planning to open in ten days’ time?”

“Fingers crossed.” He looks happy and I’m pleased for him. At the same time, a knot of worry takes root in the pit of my stomach. When the bar opens, he’ll be there a lot and will probably want to stay in his own place. What will happen to us? Was I too naïve to think this could work? I dismiss the thought; we have to make it work somehow.

“So, what did you have in mind?” Constantin asks.

“Well, what do you think will cheer him up?”

“Snacks,” he says at the exact time I say.

“Show tunes.”

“Snacks and show tunes?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Sounds like a perfect combination to me.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he chuckles.

I find a tray and start arranging some plates of olives, cheese, cherry tomatoes, chorizo, and serrano ham. Constantin cuts some bread and adds it to the tray.

“Shall we have wine?” he asks, holding up a couple of bottles of red.

“Naturally.” The only correct answer here.

We share a look as we reach Florencio’s room. The door is closed.

I have the tray, so Constantin knocks.

Several long seconds pass before the door is opened, and a very solemn-looking Florencio stands behind it. He looks so forlorn that I want to gather him in my arms and make it all better. But I have my hands full, so instead I blurt.

“Snacks and show tunes.”

He frowns a little. “What?”

“Snacks and show tunes.” I push the tray forward to emphasise the point, as if he hasn’t already seen the tray I’m holding.

His mouth twitches slightly. “That does sound good, actually.”

---