Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ablast of warm air hits my body as we enter the kitchen. It’s a medium-sized room filled with a mixture of modern and vintage appliances and a large peninsula with three barstools, two occupied by Tía Yulia and Tía Maria. Mamá Alvarez nods toward the remaining one, indicating I should take a seat.
“Can I get you some water?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”
Tía Yulia pops up from her seat, walks over to the refrigerator, and pours herself some sangria. “She’d be better off with something stronger.”
Mamá Alvarez rolls her eyes. “They’re just talking, Yulia.”
Tía Yulia holds up her hands. “I’m just saying, you know what happened last time. When she broke my poor nephew’s heart, it took him months to piece himself back together.”
“I remember.” Mamá Alvarez frowns. “But I think it’s safe this time. They’ve both grown and matured.”
“How do you know?” Tía Maria asks.
“I don’t. But I’m choosing to trust her,” Mamá Alvarez says in a tone that indicates it’s the end of the conversation.
“Well, if she misbehaves, Julissa will let Isabel’s parents know about it.” Tía Yulia snickers.
I’m happy to hear Fernando’s mom is looking out for him. She’s not Team Isabel like Fernando’s father seems to be. “I will take some of that sangria,” I say, rejoining the conversation.
Tía Yulia nods and pours a glass for me and each of the other ladies.
“I missed most of what happened out there, but it doesn’t take much detective work to piece it together.” Mamá Alvarez accepts her drink and places it down on the peninsula untouched. “Jorge was out of line inviting Isabel to dinner tonight. And for not treating you with the respect you deserve.”
I manage a polite nod. Hot lava flows through my veins when I consider Mr. Alvarez’s actions tonight. “I don’t care about how he’s treated me, but I’m worried about the impact he’s having on your son.”
“It’s no excuse, but my husband has a hard time letting go of the past. He’s never gotten over my son’s breakup or the fact that he’s chosen to call America home over Spain,” Mamá Alvarez says.
“Fernando is a grown man. Whether he calls the States home or Spain, it’s his choice.” I take a long sip of the sangria, savoring the sweet taste of the peaches and strawberries, willing it to cool my growing temper.
“We all agree with you, Ava,” Tía Yulia says. “Living in America has changed my nephew for the better. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, and he even managed to find you! The only person who doesn’t seem to understand that is Jorge.”
“Besides, Fernando’s never expressed interest in taking over your bed and breakfast businesses,” Tía Maria says to Mamá Alvarez.
“Do you own more than this place?” I cock my head to the side.
“Oh yes. Jorge and I have about fifteen properties all over Spain.”
“And they’re all highly successful,” Tía Maria adds.
Huh. That must be the real reason Mr. Alvarez is upset. He wants Fernando to inherit the family business. I think I’m beginning to have a better understanding of what’s going on now.
The clock chimes seven times. I glance at the window. The patio is deserted. Isabel and Fernando have disappeared. I take a final sip of my sangria and set it down. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Fernando.”
I may have agreed to push my feelings for him aside, but that isn’t going to stop me from checking on him. No matter what, we’ll still be friends. Thinking about the hurt he might be feeling sends waves of dull pain through my chest. I need to know he’s okay.
I push the stool back and stand, suddenly realizing I have no idea where he might have gone.
“He’s probably in his old room,” Tía Maria muses, reading my body language.
Tía Yulia walks over and sets a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll show you where it is.”
We pass through the lobby and up four flights of stairs toward the roof. “I thought the building only had three floors.”
“It does.” She points to a blue door at the end of the hallway. “The attic was converted into a loft for my nephew. He’s always preferred the quiet and the view. Odds are, you’ll find him standing on the balcony.” She gives me a parting hug, then gently pushes me toward the door. “Good luck, Ava.”
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and groan as I spy another few stairs. I’ve definitely gotten my steps in for the day. Climbing four-and-a-half flights has my leg muscles trembling and crying out for me to take a break. At the top of the landing, there’s another door. I knock twice.
“Vete. Quiero estar solo,” Fernando mutters.
Those words, I know. They translate to “go away” and “I want to be alone.” But as is often the case, we can’t always have what we want.
It’s time for some tough love. I knock again.
There’s no answer. Reaching for the doorknob, I turn it and start to open the door at the same time it flies toward me.
I gasp and stumble backward, teetering toward the stairs, but Fernando’s lightning-fast reflexes steady me. The next thing I know, my body is pressed against his. We’re both panting. I feel each breath as his chest rises and falls. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought you’d be Mamá or Tía Yulia.”
“You can be mad all you want at me,” I say, lifting my chin and meeting his gaze. “But I’m not going to leave you alone.”
“You’re an exception to the rule. I’ll always welcome you, Ava.” His words cause something in my stomach to flutter. He moves me away from the stairs and releases me. “I should’ve come to find you once Isabel left. I didn’t mean to leave you to fend for yourself.”
“I wasn’t alone. Your mom and aunts found me.” I glance to the door. “Can I come in?”
“Sí, sí.” He steps out of the doorway and gestures for me to follow.
Inside, the room is tastefully done up. The lower floor contains a desk, sofa, and TV. A sleek black wrought-iron staircase leads up to the room’s sleeping space and only window. There’s a king-sized bed, a side table with a quirky Salvador Dali-inspired lamp, and a dresser.
My attention goes to the creamy white walls, where there are three life-sized photos of Fernando. One of them has him standing on top of a podium next to a woman with dark hair, holding a gold medal.
The second is of him wearing a prince costume against a darkened background. His feet are turned out and he’s smiling widely to an invisible audience. The spotlight hits his face in just the right spot, illuminating his high cheekbones.
The last picture is of Fernando with his arms looped around a pair of skaters, each with gold medals looped around their necks. His eyes are glowing. It’s my favorite image of the three.
“Wow, these are bold.”
“Mamá had these printed and put up for me. I thought they’d be a lot smaller than this, not six feet tall.
But she wanted something to ‘fill the room,’ she said.
” He runs a hand through his hair. “The three photos each represent a milestone moment in my skating journey. Winning my first national title, getting a job with Dreams on Ice, and becoming a coach.”
I continue to study the portraits. In each image, I can see some subtle changes.
The first photo has a baby-faced Fernando.
His cheeks are slightly rounded, there’s no sign of any facial hair, and his shoulders aren’t as broad as in the other two images.
As a prince, his body has filled out and there are a few fine lines around his eyes and mouth.
“What competition is that?” I point to the last image.
“The World Championships.” He lowers his chin and studies the ground.
“Those are my friends Frankie and Charlie just after they won the title. They were already world-class skaters when they asked me to help them out. They could’ve easily coached themselves.
All I did was offer them some advice from an outsider’s perspective. ”
“Fernando, stop being so bashful! Your friends did not just want your advice. I’m a hundred percent sure they asked you to coach them because you’re brilliant at what you do.
” I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he can add the title “Coach of World Champions” to his resume. “I bet all your students are stars.”
“They are. I have one team I co-coach with Charlie that just won the World Junior Championship title. We have big hopes for them when they move up to the senior division next season.”
“Wow. Just wow.” I point to the first photo. “Is that woman the partner who caused you to change career paths?”
“Yup, that’s Sylvie.” He chuckles. “As frustrating as our time was together, seeing that photo of us winning Nationals always reminds me that winning isn’t everything. It’s why I chose it.”
“That’s a good outlook to have. And what about the photo of you on tour?”
“That was taken a few days before I retired.”
“I can’t tell, which prince were you?”
“I wore a lot of hats, or rather, wigs. That day I was Prince Charming. But my favorite character to play was Aladdin.”
“I’m starstruck.” We walk over to the sofa and sit down. “I’m sitting with literal royalty.”
He throws his head back and laughs, revealing the light-hearted, happy-go-lucky man I met back in Sequoia Valley. “I’m more of a street rat than a prince, but I’ll still take the compliment.”
Fernando shares a few more stories with me about his time with Dreams on Ice before our conversation takes a more serious turn.
“How are you doing? Being surprised by Isabel couldn’t have been comfortable.”
“I’m okay. It still hurt to see her again, but it wasn’t as much of a shock to my system as it was in Madrid.” He sighs deeply. “We had a productive conversation. She wanted to clear the air between us.”
“After all this time?”
“Yes. There were a lot of things she wanted to get off her chest.” He crosses his leg and positions his body toward me. “We agreed that tonight wasn’t the best time or place to talk, so we’ll be meeting for breakfast.”
I swallow hard and squeeze my knees together.
It’s just breakfast. Fernando is a level-headed man.
I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything other than he’s willing to hear what his ex-fiancée has to say.
I do my best to push aside the voice in the back of my head that’s telling me Fernando’s realized he still loves Isabel and wants to rekindle his relationship with her.
“Your, uh, aunts also said something about your dad that I was wondering about.” I fold my hands on my lap. “Is he upset that you aren’t going to take over the family business?”
“Sí, that’s the gist of it. My parents are close to Isabel’s parents.
They’d hoped we’d settle here and take over running the B&B.
” He stands and walks over to a framed photo on the side table, picking it up and running his fingers along the edge.
“Except that dream flew out the door when Isabel ended it. Mamá has moved on, but Papá hasn’t. ”
He takes a deep breath. “In his eyes, coaching in small-town America is a huge step down from the B&B. Every time I come home, he looks for ways to convince me I’ve made a huge mistake and should change my mind. I love the man, but it’s frustrating beyond belief.”
“He should respect that you are your own man, and he can’t make decisions about how you live your life.”
“We’ve spoken about it, but what I have to say goes in one ear and out the other.” He sets the frame down. “I’ve given up trying to change his mind. Just as with my tías, it’s not worth the energy to put up a fight.”
“I don’t know, I thought you did a pretty good job calling him out for snubbing me.”
“That was different.”
I cock my head to the side. “How?”
“Papá was being rude to you. He can bully me if he wishes, but my friends and girlfriend are off-limits, even if it’s a fake relationship.”
“I said something similar to your mom about you.” I chuckle. “We think alike.”
Fernando reaches for my hand and rubs his thumb in small circles over the top. “I guess that’s why we get on so well.”
My heart yearns to break free of the prison I’ve entrapped it in, but I’m caught in a loop. I need to stop falling for my friends. Our feelings for one another continue to deepen, but we’re forever stuck in the friend zone.