Page 87 of Until You Came Along
“Why do you say that? You know I’m not saying this because I won’t accept what you’re telling me. I’m saying it because it’s obvious your brother isn’t that interested in me.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said thoughtfully.
“Tomorrow we have a business dinner that we’re both invited to. We were going to go together, but it’s clear that won’t happen. I’m thinking of making up some excuse and not attending. I don’t feel like being in the same place as him and acting like we don’t know each other, because let me tell you, I suspect that’s what’s going to happen.”
“He’s so stubborn that you might be right, but I wouldn’t miss it. Show him that you can go on with your life; something has to make him come to his senses.”
“I don’t think I have the option of not going because the client is one of the most important ones, and it wouldn’t look good to snub them.”
“Put on your best outfit and rub in his face how well you’re doing.”
“Do I look good?”
“A bit downcast, but you’re beautiful and you shine wherever you go.”
“You say that because you’re my friend and my number one fan,” I said, repeating what he always said to me.
“Of that you can have no doubt,” he replied, laughing.
I got home around one in the morning. I was happy to have spent that time with Baco; besides, it had distracted me and that helped me take my mind off Hermes. I went to bed, and I don’t know if it was because of the accumulated fatigue or because I was calmer, but that night I was able to sleep better.
The next morning I woke up more rested and in a better mood, but when I was having breakfast, I remembered the dinner that night and that made me uneasy.
As soon as I arrived at the office, I asked Julia to find out who would be the guests at my table. If Hermes was assigned to the same table, I was determined to request a change. I couldn’t bear the torture of having him next to me and pretending we had never been anything, when in reality I loved that man more than I wanted to admit.
Julia, with her usual efficiency and discretion, was able to find out the table number I had been assigned and the names of the people who would be at it. In this case, luck was on my side, and Hermes Darwich was not one of those people.
The dinner was set for nine o’clock, so that day I left the office at seven to stop by the hair salon. I wore my hair down with some waves and asked for elegant and natural makeup.
When I got home, I was surprised to see a huge package leaning against the door that appeared to be a wrapped painting. The package had a card that simply said: “For Delfina.” Baco immediately came to mind, and I thought he had finished the painting he was working on and, since we had been talking about it, he had left it for me to see. I went inside and the first thing I did was tear off the wrapping, but to my great surprise, it was the painting I had been admiring at the exhibition, the one that had caused such a strong emotional reaction in me. I was convinced it had been Baco who, noticing how much I had liked it, had bought it, the crazy guy. He was the only one who knew what it had made me feel. I immediately picked up the phone to call him.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Thank you so much, Baco. You didn’t have to do it,” I said, a bit emotional about the gesture. In the end, I would have to agree with him that I was more sensitive these days.
“And why exactly are you thanking me?” he asked, confused.
“You know why, don't play innocent. It was a beautiful gift.”
“Delfi, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. Please enlighten me.”
“About the painting that was delivered to my home, the one I was admiring at the exhibition.”
“I repeat, I don't know what you're talking about. Someone gave you the painting that moved you?” he asked, and from the surprise in his voice, I began to doubt it was him.
“Don't joke with me, tell me the truth. Did you send me that painting or not?” I asked, concerned.
“I swear I didn't,” he affirmed, and at that moment I knew it wasn't him, but I had no idea who could have given me such an incredible gift.
“And if it wasn't you, who was it? The card only says 'For Delfina.'”
“I have no idea,” he said, and there was a silence during which I assumed he was thinking, then he added: “The only people you mentioned how much you liked it to were me and the artist himself, Pierce, who was quite taken with you, I might add. Maybe it was him, but how would he know your address?”
“I have no idea, but what I do know is that if it wasn't you, I can't accept it.”
“And how do you plan to return it if you don't know who gave it to you?”
“Can you find out from your friend who bought the painting? This is very strange.”
