Page 111 of Sol
Up ahead of us, on a hill, was an old stone building, as is common in Spain. This one lookedhabitable.
I pointed. “We’re goingthere?”
Shrugging, she just kept going, refusing tosay.
But yes, we headed up the hill to a rusty old gate tangled with red poppies and wildflowers. Olive trees dotted the entire area everywhere you looked. To the south, the Med sparkled in thedistance.
Unearthing a huge, old-fashioned key out of her bag, she got out of the car and opened the gate, then drove through, got out, and closed the gate behindus.
Motoring much more sedately, she said, “Have a look around, my darling, dearest Trent. This is our newbase.”
“Newbase?”
“Yep. I bought you abase.”
“Meaning ahome?”
“Meaning ahome.”
I took it allin.
“You’d be amazed what a 1960’s tract home goes for in Northern California. And how much you can buy in Spain if you’re willing to work with theprocess.”
“You bought ahome?”
“I did. We can keep our things and travel the world from here, together. It’s remote enough that I won’t worry about anyone breaking into it. And,” she singsonged in typical Dani fashion, “if they really needed a place to stay, of course we’d let travelers have a place to stop. It’s on a hilltop, so you won’t have to worry about defending it. You can see from all sides.” I looked at her gratefully. She knew my fucked up mind so well. “And then whenever we feel like it, we can just take up andgo.”
I leaned over and kissed her. “Can I see thehouse?”
“Sure. It isn’t much. It’s kind of small. But it is a castle in Spain,technically.”
The warmth in my heart spread to my fingertips and toes. “Dani. You’reincredible.”
She pulled up at the stone house. An old terracotta roof topped walls of golden stone. It seemed to have doors and awindow.
So far, sogood.
“This is your new home. A ruin of a castle on a hill in Spain, fortified with a new roof, plumbing, electricity, heating and airconditioning.”
I shook my head indisbelief.
“Let’s go inside,” shewhispered.
I stepped in, and immediately, I washome.
“It’s wired for internet,” shesaid.
But that wasn’t what I caredabout.
She’d decorated. A hippie lover’s dream. Tapestries hung on the walls, with candles in sconces. A big purple couch, covered with pillows, faced a large television. Out the other way, we had a view across the countryside to the ocean. A cozy fireplace held pictures of me and her, me and Degan, and both of ourparents.
His flag was given a place of honor over ourmantel.
I walked around. A small kitchen, clean and white-tiled. A tiny bathroom with a metal bathtub. And a bedroom with a big bed that was all ours. Mountains of white sheets and pillows, covered with a bedspread fromBali.
I backed her into thebed.
“This isincredible.”
