Page 48 of Under His Sheets
“Sí. You’re doing pretty good too.”
I barked out a laugh. “Why, thank you, Pere.” I gave him a fist bump and he giggled. We’d practiced the song several times before his father arrived, and with the exception of a couple of bumpy transitions, he was playing it great. And not just great for a ten-year-old. Great for a beginning pianist at any age.
“See you tomorrow,” I said to them both, and as they walked outside, I collapsed against the table and let out a big breath.
I hoped that whatever happened tomorrow night, Pere was safe, and Alonso was one step closer to being done with this assignment.
I thought back to the incident at the bar and how that explosion could have done more than cut up my face and injure a police officer. Someone could have been killed, and until the issue of Catalonia’s independence was settled, protests and violence could crop up at any time. Based on what I knew, I couldn’t speculate on which option would be best for the country or the people, but I knew that this precarious situation needed to be resolved before more people got hurt.
I packed up my things, including Ferrer’s guitar, and I walked home, distracted. I nearly stepped wrong off the curb and thought how awesome that would be to either break the guitar or myself.
I made it to my apartment unscathed and texted Josette that I wouldn’t be coming to Friday Social, as I needed to prepare for the event the following evening.
Take care, mon frère,was her response.We go to pick up your suit at 10.
I set the guitar case on my dinette and stepped back from it. It felt weird having it in my flat. I was still staring at it when Alonso knocked on the patio door.
I let him in and he took me in his arms, kissing me gently.
“¿Estás preocupado?”
I told him I was worried. We sat together at the table, looking at the case.
“Do you think it will bite you?” he finally asked, and it was enough to get me out of my mood.
“Maybe,” I said.
He stood and pulled two food containers and a small white box out of his backpack and set them on the counter.
“I cooked for us. I knew you wouldn’t be up to going out and that you don’t have much here to cook with.” He raised an eyebrow at me and I gave him a look back. This was not the night to judge my culinary situation.
He opened one of the containers and filled two of my second-hand bowls with paella that smelled wonderful. The other container and the white box he put in the fridge.
“You are a fabulous cook,” I said with a happy sigh. I hadn’t eaten well all week. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
He nodded as he took a bite and thought for a moment.“I can’t sing or play guitar.”
I rolled my eyes.“Those are hardly useful skills.”
He tapped on his chin, his finger touching his dimple. I loved that dimple. “Then you are right. I can do everything.”
I barked out a laugh and hooked my leg over his. I recalled what Camille said about his cleaning skills and I figured I wouldn’t bring that up. I could clean just fine for the both of us.
After we ate his delicious food and drank a bottle of his favorite wine from the family vineyard, he sat with me while I played through the three songs Ferrer had picked, as well as the song Pere had prepared to play. When I finished, I was surprisingly relaxed. The wine must have done the trick.
“It’s amazing. You can just play those songs after a few days.”
I set the guitar in the case, figuring I’d prepared as much as I could.“Well, a few days, and years and years of practice. I can sight read, but it’s always better to be prepared.”
“Will he have you sing?”
I shrugged. “I can if he asks. I don’t want this man to have a leg up on me.”
Alonso’s brow furrowed. “He cannot compare to you. I don’t care how well he plays guitar or sings.”
I held my hands against my heart.“Of all the men to fall on in Barcelona, I’m so happy it was you.”
He rolled his eyes at my pretend swoon and took my hand.“Let’s get some rest. I want you aware and alert tomorrow. I will be with you the whole time, but if anything happens…”
