Chapter 46 #2
out to clasp his friend’s shoulder. “How did this happen to us?”
Lila tightened her robe around her waist, her teeth gritted. How did this affair happen to them? Last she checked, she was the one in the center of it all. She was the person they both wanted.
“Too much love, I guess, hermano,” Alejandro replied flatly.
“Ah.” Francis’s fingers dug into Alejandro’s skin. He didn’t flinch. “What about loyalty, brother? Where does loyalty fit in?”
Lila watched Alejandro closely. She had asked him earlier, and he had been unwavering in his sentiment. But would he say it
to Francis’s face? Did he know how dangerous that would be? Not that Alejandro could lie to save his life.
“She was lonely. You left her lonely,” Alejandro said.
“Not her loyalty!” Francis said. Lightning speared the sky, and Lila’s hair flew loose of its ribbon. “Yours, Matamoros! Who
are you loyal to?”
He drove Alejandro backward, just as he had done minutes ago to Lila in the salon. Only this time, that left the helm unhandled. The Old Eileen dipped to one side. Lila cried out and grabbed at the wheel. She didn’t know how to work it, not even a little bit, but holding
it still seemed to right the ship temporarily.
“Francis, steer your goddamned ship!” she yelled, curls unraveling in silvery-blond swirls around her face.
Alejandro had his back to the ocean. It had started to rain. The whole scene played so familiar to Lila, like last summer,
only with a stormy backdrop. With Alejandro instead of Tia. Could she let go of the wheel just for a moment?
“Well, Alejandro?” Francis raised his voice to be heard above the wind. “I just want to know who. Not out of love. Not out
of fear. Which of us are you loyal to?”
Don’t answer that, Alejandro, Lila thought furiously. Make up a lie. Dance out of reach. The truth would send her husband flying into a rage that would leave no survivors.
But unlike Francis, Alejandro Matamoros wasn’t a salesman. Unlike Lila, he wasn’t an actor. So he held his best friend’s gaze
and gave him the truth.
Lila knew it was the truth because Alejandro had worn the same look of sincerity the night they were alone together in her
bed when she told him she wanted the world to burn.
It just wasn’t the truth Lila expected.
“I’m loyal to you,” Alejandro said without so much as a glance her way.
Francis tilted his head. “Huh.” He chuckled, placed his hand on Alejandro’s other shoulder in a masculine kind of embrace.
“I believe you,” Francis affirmed with a smile.
Then he looked over his shoulder, straight at Lila. The storm was creeping in around them, and the wind still toyed with Lila’s robe, but she herself remained motionless in the eye of it all.
Alejandro was loyal to Francis. That was his simple truth after all this time? How many card games and meals and nights had
they shared in giddy secrecy over the years? How many times had Alejandro said I’ll never tell, while Lila heard I love you, Lila. I choose you. How could she have gotten it so wrong?
I’m yours, Alejandro had told her that night. Even then she had wondered if he would still be hers after he left her bed. Her hold
over him was ephemeral.
What he should have said was, I’m yours tonight. Yours for now. Yours until Francis says otherwise.
So this wasn’t a love story. Had Alejandro coveted whatever Francis had, and Lila was just another piece of his empire to
be enjoyed? The tears that found Lila’s cheeks were hot compared to the chilly drops of rain. How did everything that she
held dear belong more to Francis than to her?
Her breath came heavy. She felt ill. She felt filthy. This great, unrivaled romance that had propelled her through the darkest
of times was shallower than love, uglier than lust.
Francis held her eye, his gaze clear and relaxed. As if he’d always known. He understood the reality of the affair, despite
having learned about it only recently, understood it more than Lila had ever grasped in seven years.
You see? he seemed to be saying. Everything you have is fleeting.
Lila moved forward through the rain, past the two of them until her lover’s back was to her, facing her husband.
She clutched the railing for a brief moment, remembering Eileen. Had Eileen been guilty, after all?
Was it better to be guilty than inconsequential?
Lila turned, grabbed Alejandro by his shoulders, and pushed. Or perhaps Francis pulled. Perhaps her weight was enough on its own with the slippery deck. Alejandro fell forward, and on his way down his head hit one of the poles that held up the lifelines.
The sound of the impact was lost in the storm.
Alejandro lay half lidded on the deck, Lila and Francis standing over him.
She’d done it to hurt Francis, Lila told herself. But Francis hadn’t flinched, and he didn’t so much as wrinkle his nose as
he bent down and eased his fallen friend to the edge of the deck. Alejandro’s body slipped over the side, unconscious, and
hit the waves.
Lila looked at her husband. Then at the blank space between them. Francis dusted off his hands, kissed her on the cheek, and
returned to the helm of the ship.
Her heartbeat stuttered. She exhaled.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks, unable to unglaze her eyes as she dragged her hands over and over down the front of her
robe. Alejandro had made his choice.
She left her remorse to be swallowed by the storm and climbed back belowdecks to draw a bath.