Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Two Days Later
Rosa’s forehead rests against the window.
One arm is curled under her cheek. The other cradles a glass of wine.
The countryside slips past in streaks of green and sunburnt gold. Vineyards, silos, crooked olive trees climbing out of stubborn earth. Her hair moves slightly with the vibration of the train.
She looks peaceful. Focused. Like she’s absorbing everything and committing it to memory.
I want to believe she’s cataloging the view. Not the countdown.
The rhythm of the train is soft and constant.
I chose Rioja for us to spend her final few days in Spain. It’s my history and has always been one of my favorite places. I love how the vineyards carve into the hills as if they have always belonged there. The wine is magnificent, holding the memory of every season of its lifecycle.
Rosa mentioned how much her father loved it here, though she never had the chance to visit while she was in culinary school. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
Our fathers’ shared love for the region will live on in us.
He taught her to love flavor, to find meaning in every meal. Mine taught me how to discern the best grapes and find meaning in the soil.
It’s partially why I’ve brought her here, where everything worth tasting begins with time and care. Maybe she’ll see us and our shared family’s history in the way this land endures.
At the very least, I hope she’ll understand how deeply she has changed me.
Despite our little hiccup a couple days ago, we’ve spent the past couple days fucking, feasting, and sleeping. She laughs easily, though her eyes sometimes gaze off into the distance when she thinks I’m not watching.
I’ve let the days pass without further discussion because I haven’t wanted to pressure her. The clock is ticking, though. Her flight is in five days. Seven until she returns to reopen the restaurant she says can’t run without her.
I hope she doesn’t slip back into a life she built out of fire and fear and never taking a breath and forget about me.
Shit. It’s impossible for me to stay quiet another moment.
I slide my hand over her knee. “You’re quiet today.”
“Just watching the world go by.” Her eyes flick toward me, then drop to where my hand rests.
“Thinking about home?” She nods. Barely.
I lean closer. “Can I ask you something?”
“You’re going to anyway.” Her lips twitch into a smile.
I squeeze her knee. “Should we discuss what happens when you leave?”
“Well.” She straightens deliberately. “I go back to my life.”
“To your old life?”
Her fingers curl around the stem of the glass. “Well, yeah. To my restaurant. Prep lists and late nights and payroll and sixty-hour weeks, I guess.”
“Rosa.” I study her face and witness the tension gathering behind her lashes, which is the last thing I want to see. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know how to want anything else.” She looks back out the window.
I gently cup her chin and guide her eyes toward mine. “Not true and you know it.”
“No, it’s not.” She laughs sharply.
She picks up her wine and takes a large sip. Her hand is steady, but her chest rises and falls too fast. She’s stressed. I know her tells now. I’ve kissed it out of her too many times to count.
“I would never ask you to give it all up,” I say gently. “I’m not trying to trap you in Barcelona or chain you to my bed—though, for the record, you’re welcome to stay there forever. Making you come is my favorite thing in the world.”
She huffs, but I can tell by the flash in her eyes it’s one of her favorite things too.
“Our discussion was intense. In my mind, we’re building something real,” I continue. “This is not some fling with a return date.”
Her throat works around the swallow. “You’re still sure you want something real with me?”
“Yes. I want you.”
“That’s not a plan, though.”
“It’s a start.”
She leans back, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know how this will work, Santiago. I don’t know how to go home and run my restaurant and still find space for—this.”
“For us.”
“Yes,” she says quietly. “For the version of me I’ve found with you.”
My chest seizes with trepidation. Maybe I should have waited to have this conversation until after this trip.
“Of course I don’t want this to ever end,” she says. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. But I’m scared I won’t survive the collision between my old life and this new one.”
Ah. I get it now. “What if I stayed in Seattle close to you?”
Her eyes flicker with uncertainty.
“I can live anywhere. Most of my life has been spent traveling for work, never staying long enough to unpack. I still have a place in Seattle, though I’ve barely used it.
” I take her hand and bring it to my lips.
“I want to make the Pacific Northwest my home so we can build something lasting. Not to take over, but to stand beside you, to take care of you.”
The words hang between us, fragile but true.
She looks skeptical. “So, you can live anywhere in the world and you’d make Seattle home?”
“Or, Tacoma.” I draw her into my side. “It doesn’t matter where I live. Home is where you are.”
She quirks a brow. As if I’m feeding her a line. Or maybe because the thought terrifies her.
“We don’t have to solve it all today,” I assure her. “You’re going home soon and I need you to see a future with me. Not someday. Now. Not because it’s easy. Because it’s right.”
She nods slowly. Then again, firmer. “I see it. It’s hard for me to believe in fairytales, though. I’m scared I’ll let you down.”
“You won’t.”
“I’m scared of how much I want this.” Her eyes blink up at me so sincerely relief breaks through me, flooding every corner of my being.
She’s in.
I press my forehead to hers. “Me too.”
She exhales, a soft sound. I take it as full surrender.
We’re nearing our destination. As the train winds through vineyards, the land shifts from green slopes to dry canyons. Mountains rise like silent guardians built on patience and pride.
The land I grew up on is around the next bend. The wines hold time in them. Work done by hand. Lessons passed down generation after generation. Nothing loud, nothing rushed. Only quiet mastery.
Each time I return, the world settles into balance.
Maybe it’s the harmony here, old and new, humble and elegant. Tradition still alive in every barrel.
I hope Rosa comes to believe our love can grow the same way.
Even though we’re new, what we have between us carries depth. With every cell of my being, I know our love will endure if we care for it with time and heart.
My hand stays in hers.
Today is a small win, as far as I’m concerned.
For the first time in days, we’re moving in the same direction.