Page 36 of After the Fire
“Not too soon,” he interrupted, reading my mind. “And for the record, Vee, I don’t give a shit what people say. Or think, for that matter.”
I hesitated, running through every possible outcome in my head. The reality was that I wanted to be close to this man. For reasons unexplained, but we were gravitating around each other, our chemistry off the charts.Say yes.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and took a few steps forward, closing in on me and reducing the space between us by half. The sun was shining in through the window, directly onto his face. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, the color in his eyes a little lighter than normal, almost gray in the light.
“Say yes,” he said softly. He licked his lips and took a step forward.
“Okay.” I smiled and shrugged with one shoulder. “Sure.”
* * *
The drive to the top was out of this world. The unpaved roads gave this town a mystical look, almost like it was stuck in time. Only a local would navigate the roads this way. The windows were down, and the wind was blowing in the car, my dark hair a tornado around my face. From this high up, it was very clear that everything was in transition. The colors of the leaves popped against the mountainous terrain.
Lucía drove us to a little lodge at the top of the mountain. It was only open on specific dates—mostly for big groups of hikers and to cater to the tourists that would venture up the mountain. It was a small wooden building, with a tiny front door and two windows on either side adorned with flower boxes exploding with seasonal plants. I could picture the black hellebores in the wintertime, maybe covered in snow.
“Oh, it doesn’t really snow much here, not enough for it to stick anyway,” Lucía said behind me.
I laughed and widened my eyes. “Did I say that out loud?” What was wrong with me?
We walked in and headed towards the back, where the wall had been replaced by floor-to-ceiling windows and the whole valley was visible.
“See right there?” Lucía said, pointing to the right and squinting her eyes. “It’s barely visible, but you can see Santiago’s bench from here.”
I smiled and took in my surroundings: the creek was hardly discernible from this altitude, and we could see a few people bathing by the rocky shore. I couldn’t directly see the bench, but the general area was obvious—it was clear of trees and the ledge was pronounced; the bench was probably tucked under the big branches. The sky was a bright blue, and there were a few wispy clouds slowly moving from one side to the other.
“He’s such a weirdo.” Lucía chuckled. With a smile on her face, she sat down and propped her big purse on the chair next to her. I took a seat across from her, repeating the same movement and setting my purse on the chair next to me. It was familiar, something we’d done the night we had dinner. A repeat action that created familiarity among us.
The view out the window was like nothing I’d seen before—even when I’d traveled to Europe with Susana when I was a teen. It truly was breathtaking.
“So,” she said. “Santi has been very tight-lipped about you, in contrast to his constant blabbermouthaboutyou in the last few years.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard,” I said, trying to hide my amusement. “I think the last time I saw him was probably, what? Eight years ago? Maybe ten?” I shrugged.
Lucía pursed her lips. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to conceal a smile or what. She looked out the window and narrowed her eyes, maybe in confusion. “Hmm.”
That was that. Just a noncommittal hum.
I scanned the room. It was clad in wood, and it was definitely something that Susana would describe as “rustic,” as to avoid calling it something else. “Un espanto,” she would say. Disgusting, unpleasant. But it reminded me a little of a restaurant in the Swiss Alps I’d seen in a travel blog while doing research for my honeymoon.Best Hidden Gemsor something like that. Manuel had been adamant we travel to Australia, despite my request to visit the South of France.
Should that have been the last realization that the man was a walking red flag? Probably. We’d never, not once that I could recall, done anything I had requested. I waited for him to be ready to get married, for him to suggest moving in together. I didn’t even take the initiative to call him or text him early in our relationship, as to not appear clingy.Needy,he would call me behind my back when he thought I wasn’t listening in on his conversations.
There was a big difference between having needs and being needy. But I was never needy. I kept mostly to myself, buried in work and curled up in a chair reading my books. Occasionally, I would join him at a party or event, but over the years those were few and far between.
“This is really cute,” I said, hoping to change the subject entirely. Although I was sure I would eventually endure one of her interrogations. The constant questioning was a family trait, apparently. “Never would have expected this to be here.”
“Yeah, it’s owned by my aunt and uncle, the same ones that own the hotel down in town.” She quickly glanced at the menu, placed it on the table, and pushed it aside. “Do you want to share a charcuterie board to start?”
She looked at me. Her eyes were so similar to Santiago’s, even in the way they crinkled when she smiled.
“Hey, Lucía,” the waitress said as she approached us, her ponytail swaying with her body. “Are you ladies ready to order?”
“How do you guys get anything done in this town?” I asked Lucía as the waitress left our table after taking our order. It seemed like these people couldn’t walk even a few meters without someone waving at them or calling out their names. Compared to my own experience, it was surprising. Because I was well known, my family was too, but I don’t think I had many interactions unless someone wanted something of me—of us. “It’s amazing.”
“Bleh, small town.” She rolled her eyes and gestured with her hand. “My family is the warden of all the town secrets.” She snorted and immediately covered her mouth, embarrassed by the reaction to her own joke.
I smiled and chuckled, then looked out the window. How many secrets did my own family have? How many secrets did I keep?
“How so?” I said, curiosity getting the better of me.
