Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“No.” Rafael watched as Grace pressed her lips into a line and clenched her hands into fists. She was as stubborn as a mule even in these terrible circumstances. “I don’t want to put you out like that, Raf,” she said, “and we—we don’t even know each other.”
She was right, of course. They didn’t know each other, but since when was that a requirement for sharing an apartment?
“Look, there is no way I’m letting you stay here, so either you bunk up with Alma and Obinna in his tiny apartment, or you come to stay with me.
I have an extra room. It’s not big, by any means, but I’m sure we can fit your bed in there.
I don’t know about the table or desk, but you’d have your own room and a safe place to sleep.
And it won’t be for very long, right? You’ll be back to your place in no time. It’s no inconvenience.”
Grace started to pace on the sidewalk, and Rafael could tell she was considering it. It really wasn’t a big deal to him; they would probably hardly see each other, and it was just a temporary fix.
Grace paused. “I hope it will be quick, but the landlord didn’t give us a timeline. They have to replace the whole floor, so I’m not sure—”
Rafael waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. As long as you need.”
She resumed pacing for a moment before pausing again. “I could pay you rent, of course. This isn’t just, like, a favor. I can give you something.”
Rafael considered this. His chivalry refused to allow her to pay, but he knew she wanted to offer some kind of contribution. She would never agree if she saw it as anything less than a fair deal.
Suddenly, an idea lit inside him like a match. “No money,” he asserted, and when Grace started to protest immediately, he kept talking. “But you could just take a glance at some pictures of Christian’s collection. Give me your opinion, a little insight, any ideas you have. That’s it.”
Grace froze with her mouth hanging open. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “Was this your plan all along? Bring me out to the middle of nowhere so I’m stranded and desperate and you can convince me to work on your art project?”
Rafael raised his hands and backed away. “Not at all. I just had the idea, and it’s a good idea. You’ll be able to live in a safe environment without feeling like you owe me anything. And the art thing isn’t a job. I swear I won’t make you lift a finger. I just want to see what you think.”
“You think we can be roommates?”
Rafael put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the car. “Why not?”
“We don’t exactly get along.”
“We get along fine, Grace. I don’t think we need to be friends.”
“But if you drive me nuts, it might upset Alma. I won’t even be able to complain to her about you because you’re her brother.”
“Why would I be the one driving you nuts? Maybe you’ll drive me nuts.” There was some precedent for that after all. “And I’m sure Alma would love to hear you complain about me. She’ll even go first.”
Something happened then that Rafael wasn’t expecting.
Grace laughed. A real, honest-to-goodness laugh that rushed out of her mouth and sailed through the air around him.
He remembered that laugh. He’d heard it so many times ten years ago—loud and bold and carefree—but it had been lost somewhere before she returned to Spain.
He couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across his face at the sound of it.
“Why am I considering this?” Grace put a hand to her forehead. “This is a terrible idea, Raf.”
His smile widened. “Honestly, what could go wrong? Your apartment will be ready before you know it, and you’ll barely remember that I ever had to beg you not to live in this creepy cockroach building. And you can do anything for two weeks, right?”
Rafael was so close, he could taste it. With her help, maybe this underground exhibition thing could turn into a success after all.
With her help, maybe he could stay in the good graces of his company’s largest client and start making some real profits.
And Christian would tell his rich friends about the whole thing, too, of course.
Christian would brag to anyone who would listen, and Rafael would be the person who made it all happen.
She eyed him warily. “Did I say that?”
“Say what?”
“The comment about how you can do anything for two weeks?”
“Oh, um, I don’t think so? I was just guessing how long it might take.”
She was quiet for a long moment, and then she started pacing again. He wished he could hear the back-and-forth conversation that must be happening in her brain, but it didn’t matter. She was going to say yes. He could feel it.
Finally, she halted on the sidewalk in front of him and stuck out her hand.
“Alright,” she said. “You’ve got a deal.
” He took her hand in his, ignoring the soft curve of her fingers and the way his palm was so much bigger it swallowed hers whole.
This was a business transaction like any other.
Handshakes were not sexy. The press of her thumb on the back of his hand was not sexy.
The determined look in her eyes as she stared at him was not sexy.
It was then that Rafael started to worry Grace might be right about one thing. Perhaps living with her really was a terrible idea after all.
Despite his earlier confidence, Rafael wasn’t really sure Grace’s bed would fit in the tiny room in his apartment until the moment they managed to get it in there.
It was crowded, but at least she had a place to sleep, and she had a closet and a window and a door that would close and open, all the way, without any force.
When he’d offered her the room, he hadn’t bothered to picture the actual living-together part of the equation.
But when she arrived in his apartment with most of the items she’d brought to Spain, he started to consider what being roommates might look like.
Would she just stay shut up in her tiny room with her laptop and a stack of art history textbooks?
Would they eat dinner together? Would they sit side-by-side on the couch in silence while he typed up emails to various potential clients, and she read through a list of American novels?
It was night one, and his palms were sweaty.
The last time he’d lived with someone was in college, but Rafael had never lived with a woman, and certainly not a woman he was attracted to.
He kept telling himself it didn’t matter.
It was temporary. She was Alma’s best friend, and he was relatively sure Grace didn’t even like him.
They would keep their distance and act casual and limit their topics of conversation to Pablo Picasso, and she would probably get so annoyed about his ignorance on the subject she wouldn’t bother even trying to speak to him anymore.
“What is this?” Grace asked, pointing at a bowl of fruit on the counter. “You planning to paint a still life?”
“No,” Rafael replied. “I’m planning to eat fruit.”
Grace leaned over the bowl, inspecting its contents. “What are they? Some kind of weird apple?”
Rafael walked toward her and rested an arm on the counter. “You’ve never had a…” Rafael paused, trying to think of the word in English. “A pomegranate?”
Grace shook her head. “Never had the pleasure. I think I’ve tasted pomegranate juice. Does that count?”
“No.” Rafael fought off an image of the juice running over her lips. “Especially if you don’t even remember it. Want to try one?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Um, maybe another time. I’m not really hungry.”
“Another time then. You don’t want to miss out, especially because it’s the fruit of our province.”
Grace rested her chin in her hand, as if settling in. “What do you mean?”
Rafael held up one of the round fruits. “Granada. It got its name from this. There’s even a picture of one on the Spanish flag.”
Rafael couldn’t help but notice Grace leaning in even closer to him. “Do you all grow a lot of them here or something? Where did that come from?”
“There are different stories. Some say that it was a symbol of the Catholics—Ferdinand and Isabella using it to mark their victory over the Moors. Some say the name was given by the Romans because there was a fortress where a pomegranate tree grew. There’s also a legend that someone saw a sunset over the city that looked like an open pomegranate. ”
“Okay, now that you mention it, I think I have seen these on signs around the city. I didn’t realize that’s what they were.”
“Yes, it’s an important symbol for us.”
Grace picked up one of the fruits and held it in her hand, her fingers curling around it as if memorizing its shape. “Now I’m going to see them everywhere. It’s like when you’re pregnant and you see pregnant ladies everywhere.”
Rafael’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been pregnant?” he blurted out before realizing what he was saying. “I mean, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Grace smiled. “No, that’s just a thing they say. I guess when you are pregnant, you’re more aware of other pregnant people in everyday life. You notice them more because it’s on your mind.”
“Ah.” Rafael nudged her shoulder with his and relaxed again. “And now that you are a pomegranate, you will notice more pomegranates. Makes sense.”
Grace laughed again, just as she had outside the shitty apartment. The sound echoed through his bones. “Yes, I will be one with the pomegranate and find all the other pomegranates all over this town. I know you said you plan to eat them, but these do really look like they’re begging to be painted.”
“I don’t know if you should paint them. They’re already a nice color, don’t you think?” His mouth lifted at the corner.
“No I meant—” Grace started, but then she noticed his smirk and her gaze locked with his. “Did you just make two jokes in a row? Who are you?”
Rafael scoffed. “What do you mean? I make jokes.”
“Now you do, I guess.”
“When didn’t I make jokes? I can be funny.”
Grace kept staring at him, as if trying to determine if this was some kind of trick. “You… never mind.”