Page 43 of Love Beyond Repair
“You’re not nervous?” I ask.
“About what?”
“Us. Everything that’s happened.”
He turns to look at me, those blue eyes impossibly soft. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. Us is exactly where we’re meant to be.” I kiss his jaw. He tastes like coffee and muffin.
“Two weeks,” I breathe against his skin.
“And it’s just the beginning,” he says. “The beginning of forever.”
I believe him. My whole heart believes him. The buried worry I have that this is a joke evaporates, and I decide to enjoy without the concerns. For the next two weeks, I get to be the girl in the love story. Not the shadow. Not the side character. Just his.
After an uneventful flight, the pilot announces we’ll land at Alicante Airport in ten minutes. He promises temperatures in the high 80s and blue skies; looking out the window confirms this. I know now we’re staying in Spain. He kept it hidden as long as he could, but once we were at the departure gate, he couldn’t any longer.
Ben says our accommodations are only an hour’s drive from the airport. Having been nowhere abroad, excitement is bursting out of me. I’ve lusted after warm sand and blue sea for years; it’s going to be incredible sharing this first time with him. Like chapter one in a new story, where we get a happy ending.
I shed my jacket as we walked down the plane stairs, the heat taking my breath away. The sun beats down on my face, triggering a huge smile. Our departure from the airport is seamless, like a scene in a musical, everything coming together until we are standing outside once again under the Spanish sunshine.
We bundle our bags into the pale-blue hatchback provided by the rental company. Ben pulls out the hotel confirmation from his bag and studies the directions. He slides his acoustic pop music CD into the player, and we set off on our journey. The highway stretches ahead, mountains to our left and sparkling ocean on our right. It’s the wrong side of the road to us, but somehow it feels exactly right.
The scenery surprises me. I expected a desert of brown tones, but there’s green interspersed with beige hues. Old buildings, reminiscent of farms from the past, scatter the countryside.
After half an hour, we take a left turn, heading up into the mountains away from the water. The roads are narrow, twisting through the sheer-faced rocks. Groups of cyclists wind ahead of us, all Lycra and sunburn. Ben eases past them, one by one. It feels like we are on an episode of a travel show about deadly roads.
Why anyone would cycle up these mountains perplexes me, but Ben tells me that lots of tourists come to Costa Blanca for cycling because of the steep roads. No, thank you.
Every so often, we pass a small restaurant on the roadside. Old, rickety tables set up under the shade are full of Spaniards enjoying their lunch in the mid-afternoon sunshine. It only takes fifteen minutes more to arrive at our hotel, but the journey has felt like traveling to another world.
We pull up to large black gates, the type with little golden arrowheads on the top. High walls surround the property, so you can’t see in. This place screams opulence and secrecy. Ben gets out of the car, walking up to a small black box on the wall. He keys in a code, and a flap opens. He extracts what I assume must be a key, then walks back. A strange hotel, I muse.
He presses a button on the key fob in his hand, and the two gates open. The car slowly moves forward onto the white pebble drive, Ben’s hands on the wheel. The white stones lead up a long, straight driveway bordered by palm trees. At the end stands a tall white villa. With pillars along the front terrace, it screams grandeur. There are four towers, one at each corner, and enormous expanses of glass.
We crawl slowly up the driveway, both silent and in awe of the mansion in front of us. Parking at the base of the steps, we climb out. I look at Ben in confusion. My stomach flips. This can’t be right.
“I thought we were staying in a hotel?” His bright eyes meet mine, and he smiles shyly.
“Well, I decided you deserved the best. This is all ours for two weeks. We can do whatever we want and have complete privacy.” He winks cheekily, and I burst out laughing. “Shall we explore our new home? Well, for two weeks, anyway,” he suggests, and I nod enthusiastically, running up the front steps.
“Key?” he calls behind me. When I turn, he’s dangling a key high in the air, pinched between his fingers. “What’s it worth?”
A laugh escapes me as I close the distance between us in a rush. I leap into his arms, and he catches me effortlessly, his grip strong. My hands are in his hair, my lips taking his forcefully, and my tongue claims his mouth. Breathless, we break away. Our eyes locked on one another. This vacation is going to be magical. I can feel it.
“That will do for now,” he whispers and drops the prize into my palm.
I slot the key into the tall black door decorated with frosted glass and golden fixtures. A plaque across the front declares, ‘Welcome to Paradise’. The door glides open silently into a vast modern foyer. It’s decorated in shades of gray highlighted with chrome. Ten people could sit on each of the two velvet sofas, in front of large paintings of women in various stages of undress.
At the back of the room, a white marble staircase leads upstairs, overlooked by tall stained-glass windows.Sunlight streams through them, reflecting a patchwork of colors on the tiles.
“Shall we find the bedroom?” Ben sneaks up on me, whispering in my ear.
I smile and kiss his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”
He chuckles. “That’s right. We have this whole place to ourselves. I can make you scream as loud as your lungs can manage.” He presses his lips to my skin again. “That will happen, I promise.”
He grabs my hand and drags me toward the stairs. We take them two at a time, both of us beyond excited to see what else this beautiful home offers. At the end of the upstairs corridor, two tall white doors mark the entrance to the main suite. We walk in, and my jaw drops; our entire apartment would fit in this one room.
Rich colors everywhere, unlike the rest of the house, its focal point is a huge four-poster bed displayed on a platform with a tall velvet headboard. Luxurious red and gold silk sheets spread over it. A chandelier hangs in the center with thousands of crystals that reflect the light, sending sparkles across the ceiling and walls. On a low table, snuggled between two deep red sofas, there’s an ice bucket holding a chilled bottle of champagne surrounded by chocolate-dipped strawberries. My stomach growls.
