Page 13 of After the Fire
He squinted, trying to interpret my blank expression.
“And so you like it here because it reminds you of what, exactly?” I said as I glanced over at him. It took a moment, but he let out one of his big, happy laughs that had me biting my cheek to avoid smiling.
“You said it: it’s quiet and peaceful and not many people visit because this man’s story is so tragic, so I almost always have it for myself,” he said quickly. “I come here because it reminds me that life as we know it can end in an instant; it’s a good exercise to stop and think and focus when things are bad.”
“Yes, life does have a tendency to screw you over when you least expect it.” My eyes widened, and I closed my mouth as quickly as possible. I averted his eyes.Don’t go around telling him your problems, Victoria.“Hmm, I’m actually on my way back to town. I have some things I want to do before dinner tonight, so I’ll head out.”
As I stood to leave, I saw how Santiago was looking at me. He gave me a once-over and then looked away, with a half-smile on his lips. One that I had never seen on him before.
This, how he was looking at me, was the complete opposite of how Manuel used to see me. Almost like I was invisible to him. Santiago’s gaze was intentional, deliberate, and it made me wonder if he was up to something.
“Bye, Santiago.”
8
THE PARTY
Manuel was unfairly handsome,but his mouth was out of this world. His smile was incredible, and his full lips looked soft and enticing. And his attitude was so attractive, I wondered many times if maybe it was contagious. He never cared about what people said or thought of him; he lived a carefree life. Maybe if I associated with him, I could start thinking the same thing, managing expectations and doing my best for myself.
That was what drew me to him at first. That and the mischief in his eyes. It was almost like he promised a good time while always respecting my boundaries and those of Susana. I clearly remember thinking that no man who looked like him and acted like that had a bad bone in their body.
But I was wrong. So, so wrong.
And what was also wrong? Me standing in front of Santiago’s family home, waiting for someone to come to the door. I was out of my depth, wearing a dress that might have been too formal for the occasion, or maybe not formal enough. I styled my hair in loose waves, something that I had almost never done because I could never get comfortable with the many tools and products needed to tame my locks. But the way he had looked at me earlier confused me. And then he had the nerve to call me and invite me to this get-together. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but Iwasfeeling.
I had gone back to the hotel in a huff. Angry at myself for letting him get under my skin while I was supposed to be grieving my nonexistent marriage that ended way too soon. As soon as I walked in the door, I noticed that I had a voicemail on the room phone, the light flashing an angry red and matching my mood exactly.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said, assuming—freaking correctly—that I would recognize his voice. “Um, you left too quickly this afternoon, before I could mention that a few of my cousins are getting together tonight at my parents’ house for a game night.”
What? Is he inviting me over to his house?
“Um, anyways, I thought that maybe you might need a break from all your moping around. Just fair warning: it gets wild, but it’s fun and a good distraction. Ask Julia at the front for directions to my house. It’s almost a straight shot from the hotel. See you at nine.”
So there I was, admiring what was possibly the largest house in town. I couldn’t see much, but it was clear to me that the property ended where the hills started. The landscape was crisp and impeccably maintained. The house was large, covered in brick and stone, a big contrast between this home and the other buildings in town. The circular driveway could fit multiple cars, way more than were parked there already.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, nervously biting my lower lip.What are you doing here? This is self-destruction, Victoria.To add to my life’s contradiction, I was officially “hanging out” with Santiago, like Cata had called it. On the one hand, my logic was screaming at me because I didn’t have a good relationship with this man. On the other hand, my heart and my emotions were confused. Was it because I was a jumbled mess of feelings? So maybe I was grasping at anything I could hold on to.
Two stone steps led to the covered entryway, and the door was painted a very dark green—almost black and barely noticeable in the dark of the night. I could see a large entryway inside the house through a window immediately to the right of the door, and I could hear the laughter and the chaos coming from the back.
I rang the doorbell once more and waited. In a matter of seconds, I heard a series of quick steps, followed by a sharp and deep roar of laughter.
The door opened, and whoever was behind the door froze for a fraction of a second and then smiled such a familiar smile. His sister, I assumed. Her coloring was wrong—she was blonde, and her skin was covered in freckles, but the eyes were the same.
“Hi, sorry, have you been waiting long? We couldn’t hear the doorbell over the ruckus inside.”
“Ah, no, just a few minutes. That’s fine. I’m Victoria.”
“Oh, Iknowwho you are.” She winked. “I’m Lucía, Santiago’s sister. Come in, we’re back in the sunroom.”
Were theyexpectingme?
The inside was as magnificent as the outside. I was used to this—Susana’s home was large and opulent—but this house looked lived in. It looked like people were happy here.
I followed Lucía as we made our way to the back of the house—assuming she was taking me to the sunroom. To the right of the entryway were a series of doors. Maybe a closet, a powder room, or an office? And immediately across from that, a large staircase that curved to the right and led to the upstairs. The banisters were painted white, and I could see the years of wear and tear already visible. This house lookedloved.
“What are you doing in our small town? Santiago never mentioned you were planning to visit.”
Does that man actively talk about me to people? I haven’t seen him in years, yet it seems like everyone knows who I am.
