Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A MONTH SINCE THE ACCIDENT (THE HARD PART)
The line around La Clandestina wraps around the building.
Jitters make me wobble on my stilettos—Stuart Weitzman pumps that complement the red bandage dress I’m wearing.
Beside me, Gemma’s dressed in a black, flowy minidress. Gemma’s one of those women who make beauty effortless. I, on the other hand, needed Gemma’s magic touch to make me appear like I didn’t spend the last month in a hospital. Another miracle.
Gazes from curious to heated follow us as we march to the front of the line, where a security guard—Owen!—keeps the crowd at bay. Behind him, music thumps over the din of chatter. Even so, my blood thunders between my ears, and syncope might be both my best friend and my worst enemy right now.
Gemma’s shrewd eyes zone in on me, so I flash her a thumbs-up. “This is amazing!” My voice sounds like I’ve sucked in a balloon’s worth of helium. Her eyes turn to slits. “Ladies’ Night Gem!” I remind her, directing her to Owen, still somewhat intimidated by his girth and tattoos.
“We’re on the list,” Gemma says, flashing her phone in front of his nose. “Personal guests of Rafael’s.”
Owen’s eyes slide from Gemma to me, and I mimic Gemma’s confident posture. A little part of me hopes he’ll think I’m awkward and turn us away.
His bald head jerks toward the door. Gemma’s cool fingers thread through my clammy ones, and she drags me into La Clandestina.
It’s dim inside the bar. The massive skull glows faintly on the wall, lit from underneath.
Music thrums through the space—steady and upbeat—blending with the low hum of the conversation.
The place is full but not crowded, just enough to give it a pulse.
And somewhere in the midst of it all … is Rafael.
I retreat a small step, Gemma’s shoulder brushing against mine, eyes boring into me. “Ladies’ Night Gem wants to know if you really want to be here,” she says over the music.
“Yes!” I say, but it comes out too enthusiastically.
“Then why aren’t we going in?”
Rafael turning me away seems like a good answer. “Taking it all in.”
“Let’s take it in from inside, because I’m not sure the line behind us appreciates being kept from the bar.
” Gemma pulls me forward, leading the way as we cross the space toward an empty high-top at the same time that another group of women, looking like they’ve come from a Vogue photo shoot, encroaches on it as well.
Gemma decides we can share the table, and she’s already introducing the two of us. Before we slip into small talk and I lose my courage, I cut in, “I’m grabbing a drink. Want anything?”
“I can come with.”
“Stay and make friends. I’ll be right back.” I force a smile to reassure her that I got this.
“A skinny marg,” Gemma concedes. I slip away before she can Mama Bear me some more.
People crowd around the bar, which makes it more difficult to reach the counter … and to discern which person might be Rafael.
I circle around until I find an empty stool, nerves pulsing along to The Weeknd on the speakers. Crystal skull candleholders line the length of the counter. La Clandestina tequila lines the shelves. And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.
“What can I get you?” someone shouts from the other side of the bar. She smiles, her white teeth contrasting with her burgundy lips.
“Lupe!” I squeal before I can catch myself, because we never actually met. Her smile falters, and mine wavers too. “I’m Evie.” I jut my hand out to shake hers. Her eyes bounce from my face to my hands and back. I want to forget the last five seconds, but her cat eyes narrow and focus.
“Evie Pope?” I add. “Or does cabrona ring a bell?”
Her features transition from confusion to recognition in the span of a blink.
She throws her head back and laughs, a deep throaty laugh.
Then she’s ducking underneath the bar and wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
“Holy shiiiit! You’re here!” She pulls away, her head shaking in disbelief.
“And you remember that? Damn! I mean, I thought Raffi was losing it or something, but—mierda—wow!” She pulls me into another hug.
“Yeah,” I mumble into her shoulder. She pulls away. “Congrats! On everything. It’s great!” I gesture at the space.
“Thanks. It was mostly Raffi,” she says with a wide grin. “But enough about me and him. We have so much to talk about!”
“Lupe!” someone shouts from down the bar, waving her over.
“Uh, people.” She rolls her eyes.
“Go, you’re needed. Plus we can chat another time,” I say, wondering if she’ll still want drinks if Rafael decides he wants nothing to do with me. She waffles, indecision warring in her bright eyes. “Seriously, go!”
“Okay! Can’t wait!” She smacks a kiss onto my cheek and begins to walk away before she spins on a scuffed boot. “I’m sorry about the cabrona thing,” she shouts, then winks, grabbing glasses and a bottle as she heads to her guests. “Your drinks are right here!”
A drink. Something I never ordered. A little of my energy drains at the prospect of calling for another bartender or doing this entire thing without some liquid courage. Maybe I’m not ready. Maybe I should have stayed home. Maybe—
“Evie.” His husky voice makes my knees give.
My insides set afire, I turn to him, digging my fingers into my clutch to keep them from shaking.
Rafael is within touching distance, one elbow leaning against the bar, the other hand at his side. He’s dressed sharply—dress pants and a dark navy shirt rolled up to his elbows. Unlike the last time I saw him, his hair’s trimmed, but he’s kept his facial hair.
I want to feel it. Feel him.
“Are you okay?” He leans in, his nearness a magnetic pull I have to resist. His familiar eyes scan me, hypnotize me, and make me forget words.
“Um. Yes,” I say, my voice a croak. “Really great.” I smile too wide, because he frowns.
“Are you sure you’re supposed to be out?” His question stops me from burying my face in his chest. “I’m glad you’re here, but should you be?”
He’s looking at me like we’re the only two people here. Thoughts become obsolete. I should be saying all the things I came here to say, but all I want to do is touch him. My fingers zap with the urge.
I lean into him, as if tugged nearer by an invisible thread. “Yes,” I respond, sounding a little too breathless to prove I’m indeed okay. “Don’t listen to Gemma.”
“Never.” Rafael smiles, a shadow of The Dimple in his cheek. Everything about him is so heartachingly familiar. I want to thread my fingers into his hair and pull his face to mine. I want to press my lips to his and finally see what he tastes like.
The music’s beat changes, and its erratic thumping transfers to my chest. My heart shimmies.
“You … forgot your pen.” I dig into my clutch, holding up a pen from the day of Doug’s séance.
Rafael looks at me with concern as he takes it. His fingers brush against mine, sending a jolt through me, and I wish I had more pens to give him. “E—”
“Can we talk?” The words rush out without preamble. No number of pens is going to do what I came here to do. He looks past me for a second, and I immediately regret asking, because he’s going to say no. He’s going to send me away. He’s going to—
Rafael jerks his head to the back of the bar.
“Come on.” His hand drops to his side, and I feel the insane urge to take it and hold on to it as he cuts a path through the throng of people.
Others shake his hand or touch him without a second thought, but for me, it’s all I can think about. I dig my nails into my palm.
Gemma catches my gaze. Her face furrows with a question as she begins to pull away from her table.
I shake my head, mouthing stay, when I should be begging her to come save me from doing something stupid.
The crease in her usually smooth forehead deepens, like she can see my nerves beneath the surface, but she listens and halts. And I follow the man I cannot touch.
Always a sliver of space between us, we squeeze through the crowd around the bar and past the DJ booth into a hallway, where it’s darker and cooler. Yet somehow my temperature spikes.
Rafael slows in front of the room with the PRIVATE sign and turns to me, his face inscrutable as he opens the door, pushing into it with a shoulder.
“After you,” he says, waiting for me to pass.
Taking a deep and not-at-all-helpful breath, I do the bravest thing I’ve done since waking up and enter.