Chapter 3 #2
Grace was grateful for the man’s comment, especially since she felt guilty about the strange kind of favoritism that had gotten her the job.
Alma’s mother knew the vice provost who had a background in art, and she’d revealed they were in urgent need of a new instructor.
It wasn’t often that anyone was in urgent need of an art history instructor, hence why Grace’s old department had been completely dissolved.
Despite all the other turmoil she’d suffered, getting the job was a strange kind of magic, even if it was a position for which she was well qualified.
She continued to aimlessly roam the campus and then branched out to aimlessly roaming the city, trying to picture what life would be like.
You don’t need to picture it anymore, she told herself. You’re already here.
But she still felt outside of it all—an interloper, an onlooker.
She wasn’t completely certain whether her move to Spain had just been running away from grief and pain or if she was running toward something exciting and new.
Okay, actually, she was certain. It was definitely the former, but now that she’d done it, she wanted to make life in Spain something worth running toward.
One night, Alma took Grace to dinner with Obinna, so she was finally able to meet the man who’d stolen her best friend’s heart. He was even more attractive in person, incredibly tall with one of the brightest smiles she’d ever seen, instantly disarming even though they’d never spoken a single time.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, and Grace swallowed, guilt rising in her throat.
She hadn’t heard nearly enough about him, but she decided to rectify that as quickly as possible.
If he’d managed to get Alma to commit for more than a couple of months, then he must be worth knowing, and Grace wanted to learn all about him.
They talked about his engineering job, which Grace understood only slightly more than she understood Alma’s research, and they talked about food and music and Granada. Obinna was exceedingly fond of his home in Spain, but he talked about his childhood as well.
“You grew up in Nigeria?” Grace asked him from across the table.
He nodded and glanced at Alma. “She’s not going to ask if I’m a prince, right?” he joked. Then he looked back at Grace, eyes gleaming. “That’s always what Americans ask right away.”
“I’m not going to ask if you’re a prince.” Grace laughed, embarrassed. “I was just going to ask when you moved here.”
“I was just a boy, only eight-years old. My father had studied here when he was young, and he always wanted to return. It took a long time, but eventually he decided we would live in Granada.”
“He went to the university?”
“Yes,” Obinna said. “And eventually he taught there as well, like you. He just retired a couple of years ago. He was a businessman, but he really enjoyed teaching.”
Grace took a sip from her sangria and leaned back into her chair, surprised at the feeling of contentment that washed over her.
How many nights had she played third wheel on Alma’s dates with handsome men?
Admittedly, though, a lot of those guys had barely been able to carry on a conversation. “And how did you meet Alma?”
“She didn’t tell you the story?” Obinna asked. He turned to Alma and shook his head in a playful scold.
“She did, but I want to hear it from your perspective. I always like a romance where you get both sides of it.”
Obinna chuckled at that, and Alma grinned up at him, clearly enamored.
He was such a warm person, and Grace felt a swell of happiness for her best friend.
She didn’t know how Alma had ended up with him, honestly.
It was such a departure from her usual type in the best way possible.
But Grace had always believed there was something about timing that was mixed up in the important elements of a relationship.
It wasn’t just the attraction or the fact that Obinna was a nice, intelligent guy, it was that Alma was ready to fall for him—to open herself up to a real commitment.
Her longest relationship before this had lasted a month at best, but when an interest in exploring something serious started to creep into Alma’s consciousness, she found Obinna at the right moment. Or maybe he found her.
Thank goodness she hadn’t met him in college when she was doing body shots off random men at the bars. She would have run in the other direction.
“It’s not really the most thrilling tale when you think about it,” Obinna said. “There’s a little—um—what would you call it?”
“A courtyard?” Alma offered.
“A courtyard, yes, that’s a good word. It’s in between our buildings where we work. The first time I saw Alma she was out there pacing and talking to herself, clearly worked up and full of passion, and I was intrigued.”
“I was trying to work out why we hadn’t been able to repeat the results of the Salas experiment.”
“Of course,” Grace said with no idea what she was talking about.
Obinna fixed his eyes on Alma. “You can imagine, I was afraid to talk to her then. I didn’t want to interrupt her thoughts, but I started spending more time out in the courtyard. The next time I saw her I said hello.”
“And begged me to go out with you,” Alma added.
“Beg is a strong word.”
“I seem to recall you taking my hand and saying ‘please, please, please.”
“Maybe I begged a little.” Obinna shrugged.
“And you kissed my hand!” Alma clapped a palm over her mouth, as if she’d given away a secret.
Obinna’s eyes shined. “I did do that.”
Grace watched them in wonder. In all the years she’d known Alma, she had never seen her best friend like this before.
Acting cute. Finishing her boyfriend’s sentences and looking at him with untamed adoration.
Seriously, even Grace and Derek had never acted this smitten in their three years together.
Derek was a great listener who was very supportive, but they were never this mad about each other, never gripping each other’s thighs under the table when they just couldn’t help themselves, never telling the story of how they met with such joy.
Grace was happy for her best friend, if also a little taken aback.
It was hard to imagine Alma settled. She was the kind of woman who never waited around for a phone call or text message, who never made any of her plans based on a man.
She was fiercely caring, and everything she’d done for Grace the past few months only proved that, but she’d never directed any of that nurturing or protectiveness toward a guy she was dating.
“I’m happy you’re here, Grace. Alma talks about you so much,” Obinna said.
Grace winced. “Only because I’m a mess.”
“No. You’re so brave and so strong. I want you to say that to yourself in the mirror every morning until you believe it like I do.” Alma gave her a little wink. They’d always encouraged each other with silly affirmations, but Grace couldn’t help but feel like there was something more to this one.
Grace pushed some hair from her face and tried to smile.
It was hard to imagine doing much of anything when she was trying so hard just to stay afloat.
At least Alma was there, full of hope for the future, full of memories of who she once was.
At least someone seemed to know her, even if she couldn’t remember herself.
Grace was startled a couple of nights later when there was a knock on Alma’s door—on her door, she supposed.
Alma was still at the lab, which was unusual at the late hour, but apparently there was some kind of science experiment emergency that Grace could only barely try to comprehend.
She was content to be alone, planning her upcoming courses and attempting not to wallow in her own self-pity.
Okay, maybe there was a little wallowing. A teeny tiny, barely worth commenting on amount of wallowing with a dash of checking her rapidly depleting bank account and Derek’s social media.
She expected to find Obinna at the door, there to meet Alma, or maybe Alma herself with her hands full of books or food.
Instead, Grace’s mouth fell open as she stared up into chocolatey brown eyes and pouting lips, thick brows that were drawn into a frown, and—she couldn’t help notice—a muscled arm that was raised against the door frame.
Rafael.
Grace tried to find her voice, but he beat her to it.
“I’m on duty, it seems.” His exasperation was as thick as his accent.
“On duty?”
“Yes, Alma said she’s stuck at the lab, so I’m required to check in and care for you.”
Grace regained her composure quickly, reminding herself not to be distracted by Raf’s pretty face or impressive physique. “You are not required to check in and care for me,” she said.
He raised his hands. “I’m only following instructions.”
“Well then, thanks for stopping by. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine, so you may go.”
“You know how Alma is.”
“Yes?”
Raf shook his head. “She’ll kill me if I don’t entertain you.”
Grace huffed a mirthless laugh. “You don’t need to entertain me, I promise.”
“That’s what I told her, but as you can see, I lost that battle.”