Chapter 41
The restaurant is charming, and just like I remember.
For a moment, as we’re led to our table, I’m right back in Barcelona.
The deeply textured stucco walls are painted a soft gold.
Pendant lights hang from the ceiling. Candles flicker in glass jars.
Flamenco music fills the air, its swift and bright notes mixing with the clink of glasses and hum of conversation.
I’m delighted to see a guitarist sitting on a stool near the bar.
After we sit down, Sam orders us a couple of sangrias, which we sip while we wait for the food to arrive. It really does feel like our date nights of old, but there’s a cloud hanging over me, and until I dispel it, I won’t be able to relax.
“Can we talk?” I ask finally.
“Sure.” He gives me a sideways look. “Everything all right?”
“No. Not really.” I take a deep breath. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Kalina over the last couple of weeks. She seemed to enjoy your company just a little too much at the party last night, and I’m worried that she might have gotten the wrong idea.”
“Are you serious?” Sam stares at me across the table. “I’m helping her with the Wainwright. You said we should be friendly with the neighbors.”
“Not that friendly. Even Dawn noticed it. She’s so beautiful, and she has that accent, and the way she dresses, and—” A tremble creeps into my voice as I’m overcome by an unexpected flood of emotion.
“Hey.” Sam leans across the table and takes my hand. He speaks in a low voice, his eyes fixed on mine. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I don’t have an ounce of interest in that woman. You’re more beautiful than she could ever be.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Not only that, but you’re smart and sophisticated, and you don’t need to wear some tiny dress that shows off way too much cleavage just to prove a point.” He squeezes my hand before releasing it. “And also, I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Sam’s words should sooth my fears, but I still can’t get Kalina out my mind, and the look she gave me, like she was claiming my fiancé for herself. There’s only one way that I’ll feel better about all of this. “I don’t want you to help her anymore.”
Sam stares at me as if he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how to word it without making the situation worse.
I take the opportunity to press my point. “Look, I trust you, but I can’t say the same for Kalina. I know you won’t understand, but I can see what she’s doing. Call it women’s intuition, or whatever you want, but if we let her get too close, it’s going to end badly.”
“Jordan, I don’t think that—”
“I’m serious, Sam. It’s a big ask. I get that. But she’s trouble. I can sense it. We need to protect ourselves.”
“Protect ourselves from a neighbor?”
“I know it sounds paranoid, but when have I ever made a request like this before? I got a really strong vibe from her at the party, and it wasn’t a friendly one, at least not toward me.
I’m afraid that if we don’t distance ourselves from Kalina, she’s going to drive a wedge between us.
Please, Sam, just do this for me?” I squeeze his hand. “For us?”
“You’re that sure?”
“I am.” This isn’t a request I’m making lightly. I’ve given it a lot of thought.
“Okay. If that’s really how you feel. I’ll tell her I’m too busy at work. I know a couple of other lawyers who might be able to help her out. They won’t be free, of course, but . . .”
“Thank you.” I don’t give a damn about that, just so long as she stays the hell away from my fiancé. I withdraw my hand and take another sip of sangria. It feels like a weight has been lifted, and I can finally relax.
We eat and chat and laugh at all sorts of silly things for the next two hours.
After the meal is over, we linger, talking and laughing.
We’re lost in each other’s company and only notice that we’re the last ones left in the restaurant when the staff drop a not-so-subtle hint by breaking out the vacuum cleaner and tidying up around us.
When we get back to the Glendale—more than a little tipsy—the lobby is empty and silent.
Even the doorman’s desk is unattended. A sign on the counter reads Back at 6 a.m. Surprised, I glance at the time on my phone and realize it’s almost midnight, which explains why no one is around.
The lobby isn’t staffed between 11:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m., and the front doors are locked, accessible only with a key card.
When we reach the elevator, I glance sideways toward the empty apartment, remembering how the door was ajar earlier in the day and how someone closed it from the inside upon my approach.
I don’t know why I look. I’m not expecting to see anything out of the ordinary so late at night, but then I notice a thin sliver of pale light under the door.
Leaving Sam at the elevator, I approach the apartment.
“Hey, where are you going?” he asks in a quiet voice.
“I just want to check this out,” I reply, stopping in front of the door and reaching for the knob with alcohol-fueled boldness. But when I turn it, the door doesn’t open.
“Jordan.” Sam hisses my name as he comes up behind me. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see inside.” I stare at the door as if it will fly open by the force of my will alone. “Aren’t you curious why they would leave a perfectly good apartment empty like this?”
“Not really. It’s none of our business, and you’re pretty drunk.”
“I’m fine,” I protest, even as a hiccup escapes my mouth. “I only had two drinks.”
“You had three.” Sam places a hand on my shoulder and tries to steer me back toward the elevator. “Which is clearly more than you can handle.”
“Maybe there’s another way in.” I ignore his comment and shrug off his hand. “Like a window or something.”
“We’re not climbing through any windows,” Sam says calmly, as if talking me out of breaking and entering is the most normal thing in the world. “They aren’t going to leave a window unlocked any more than the door. And in case you hadn’t noticed, trespassing is a crime.”
I rattle the door handle again. “We’re not really trespassing. We bought shares in this building, so we kind of own this apartment, or at least a part of it.”
“That isn’t how it works. We bought shares in the building so that we could live in our apartment on the fourth floor. We don’t have a right to go into this apartment any more than we could wander into Frank and Jennifer’s uninvited.”
“Aw, come on. Aren’t you a little bit curious why there’s a light on at midnight in a unit that isn’t occupied?” I’m slurring my words. “And why was Catherine in there yesterday?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. All I want to do is go to bed. I’m tired, and we’ve both had too much to drink. And in case you forgot, we have to be up early in the morning for our weekly brunch date with Dawn and Jamie.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“Good, let’s go. You clearly aren’t making the best decisions right now.”
“But—”
“No buts.” Sam wrangles me back to the elevator and presses the call button.
From somewhere above us, I hear the clanking, torturous groan of the old elevator car as it descends toward the lobby. When it arrives, Sam pulls the gate open and bundles me inside, but at the last second I glance back toward the apartment, just in time to see the light under the door snap off.