Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Sorry, Gracie. The landlord said he’s been having a hard time getting the contractors in to finish the apartment. They’re so booked up.”
Grace sat cross-legged on Obinna’s loveseat as Alma handed her a mug of tea.
“It’s okay. It’s just taking longer than I expected.
” She didn’t think Rafael would mind her staying with him for a while longer, but she also didn’t want to get in the way.
Just because he hadn’t tried to kick her out yet didn’t mean he would want her to stay indefinitely.
“I know. I can’t believe we can’t move back into our place yet.
Although, I will say it’s been fun living here with Obinna.
It’s like a sleepover every night, and we have so much fun talking.
We’re both exhausted from staying up too late, but I like imagining this is for real.
Like, this is what it might be for us to share a life. ”
Grace puffed out her cheeks, shocked and elated. Alma had never said something like that in her life. “Who the hell are you?” she teased.
Alma shrugged, as if she was also struggling to make sense of it. “We were forced into this whole situation, but it’s kind of working out, and maybe someday we’ll choose this, you know? Not because of an accident, but because we want to.”
Grace leaned back and fell into the cushion behind her as if she was fainting. “Seriously, what is happening right now? Where is the girl who said she’d never settle down with one person because there are far too many to choose from?”
Alma laughed. “I don’t think that girl was wrong. There are so many people to choose from. It’s just that Obinna is maybe the best one that I’ve ever met, and I feel like I could be ready, you know?”
“That’s big, Alma. I mean, it’s big in a good way.”
“Don’t worry. That’s a way-in-the-future thing. I’m not going to abandon you when I just convinced you to move to Spain in the first place.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Yes, I do.” She gave Grace a look of exasperation.
“I hate to break it to you, mejor amiga, but you’ve basically been the most important person in my life for the past ten years.
We’ll be back together in our apartment soon, and I’m going to continue to support you even when you’re whining about it.
You know, in usual circumstances this is when I would use one of my favorite American phrases, but you’ve been through a lot, so I’ll be nice. ”
Grace smiled, already guessing the phrase Alma was referring to. “Suck it up, buttercup?”
“Suck it up, buttercup!” Alma echoed even more enthusiastically. “But I’m not saying that. I’m sympathizing. I know it sucks that you’re stuck with Rafa even longer.”
Grace turned Alma’s words over in her mind.
Stuck with Rafa. She didn’t feel so stuck.
They’d fallen into some kind of routine—coffee and tea at the counter in the morning, drinks after her siesta nap.
Sometimes they had dinner together and went for a walk through the city.
It had only been a couple of weeks, but Grace felt so comfortable with him, more at ease than she ever could have imagined. They might even be friends.
Which was silly, honestly. They’d been forced into this whole thing, and they were making the best of it.
He was probably just being nice because she was such a sad, giant mess.
He’d called her idea to add their own wall to the middle of the cave “brilliant.” Clearly, he was humoring her.
It wasn’t a bad idea, and she thought it could work, but it wasn’t brilliant.
It was just a wall. He was trying to build her up and make her feel better, though Grace wasn’t sure why.
Maybe he thought she would do more work for him on the exhibit?
She’d already been planning to do some more research about the caves and see if she could come up with other ideas to help him.
Maybe he was just trying to keep their roommate experience as civil as possible?
It was maybe a little too civil though. If Rafael was kind and friendly while also continuing to be the hottest guy she’d ever seen, then Grace was in trouble.
Of course, she couldn’t mention this to Alma. He was her brother. You couldn’t indulge in sexual fantasies about your best friend’s brother, even if he had eyes that seemed to draw you in further with every look. Alma had already warned her about this once.
Even though Raf was being super nice, it didn’t feel like he was trying to make a move on her, as Alma had feared.
Grace couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed.
The heat she was experiencing during their interactions was so one-sided, it seemed more likely that she would end up seducing herself on his behalf just by imagining the way his lips curled up when she called him a snob.
“I’ll survive another week or two with Rafael,” Grace said, taking a sip from her mug and offering Alma an encouraging smile.
She would survive. Though the fact that every time she used her vibrator, she was afraid Raf would hear it wasn’t exactly helping the situation.
And the fact that her vibrator and Rafael were now tied together in her mind since she always worried about him whenever she thought of using it wasn’t great either.
It had the potential to become a Pavlovian situation.
But she wouldn’t be ashamed. It was nothing she couldn’t handle.
She’d been through so much already. Indulging in fantasies of her best friend’s brother that involved sex toys—while he was right across the hall—was nothing.
Rafael was still awake when she returned from visiting Alma. He sprawled lazily across the couch with his laptop, feet on the table, one hand in his hair. He straightened a bit as she approached and lifted his hand in a little salute.
“Hey,” she said.
There was something comforting about returning home to him, about saying goodnight before tucking herself into bed after another long day.
Maybe she was just grasping at straws to fill the void of Derek, or maybe she was just so fucking lonely that even a polite nod from Raf was enough to make her desperate for some human connection.
Back in Chicago, her ex-boyfriend had ripped away the entire idea of her future, of sharing her life with him, of relying on him.
Relying on someone was a big deal for Grace since she’d had so few people in her life to fill that role.
Her grandmother, Alma, Derek. That was it.
That was the list. There’d never really been anyone else she could count on, and so the fact that two of the pillars of her life weren’t there anymore was all the more devastating.
It was, perhaps, too much pressure for Alma, but the thing Alma always seemed to forget was that Grace could rely on herself as well.
She was used to that. Her mother and father had barely been in the picture, and as much as she'd been loved by Gram, Grace had realized how important it was that she was independent from a young age. Though she had to admit, sometimes she wasn’t as tough as she would have liked. It was a work in progress.
Maybe all of her history, all of her damage and baggage, was wrapped up in the reason Rafael’s lazy smile had suddenly become such a consolation to her. She refused to imagine any other explanation.
“You okay?” Raf asked.
She must have been drifting off into space. She removed her shoes and put them on the rack by the door. “Yeah, just too many thoughts.”
“Any you feel like sharing?”
Grace shrugged. “I was with your sister.”
“Oh yeah? How is Alma? Struggling to find enough closet space at Obinna’s apartment?”
“Yes, actually, but she doesn’t seem to mind it.”
Rafael typed something on his keyboard and then set the laptop aside. “How are you?” he asked. He’d started asking her every day, as if this were a perfectly normal and regular kind of question and not one that should make her consider straddling his lap.
“I’m good,” she said with another shrug.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you eat something?” He analyzed her face, as if he might be able to decipher the answer if he looked hard enough.
It was another question she wanted to read into as some kind of evidence he might care about her, but it was so perfectly innocuous. “I did. I think I’m just going to head to bed.”
“Even though you can’t sleep?” He was frowning at her, but there seemed to be the barest hint of a smile working at the edge of his lips.
“You never know if you don’t try.” She gave him a little wave and retreated to her room, annoyed that her heart rate was faster than it should have been.
She did sleep at night, sometimes. She often dreamt of her grandmother, and sometimes they were nice dreams. Art museums and champagne at breakfast. “A mimosa without the orange juice,” Gram would say.
Sometimes Grace was a girl again, and her grandma was scolding her for letting a boy at school make her feel bad about herself.
“I know it hurts, Gracie, but you have to be strong. You’ll meet so many stupid men in your life, you might as well prepare for it now.
” She’d gotten her sense of humor from her grandmother—and her sense of adventure.
Gram would have loved that Grace moved to Spain, even if she thought it was for the wrong reasons.
Sometimes the dreams were more nightmarish.
The final days. Hospice and beeping machines and grasping onto a too-thin hand.
That’s what she was dreaming about after she returned from Obinna’s place—her grandmother’s pale face, eyes closed, her veiny, weathered skin and hollowed cheeks.
The shaky sounds of agony when she tried to speak.
Grace, at her bedside, trying so hard not to sob.