Chapter 15

“Are you ready to play tourist?” I ask, grinning at Rafe as we enter through the gates to Park Güell.

“We are tourists,” Rafe replies. “We don’t need to play.”

“Oh, but I like to play.” I can’t resist and sashay my way to the foot of the dragon stairway, his laughter like a bubbling brook following me.

“Just look at this.” He stares in wonder up the dragon stairway, and its impressive statue dominating the centre section. “It’s beautiful.”

His awestruck voice is a breathy whisper. It’s a word he repeats often as we wander around the vast city park. From the coolness of the domes in the ceiling under the doric columns, each dome hosts an intricate mosaic from serpents to the seasons.

We walk for a couple of hours, taking the paths under palm trees that follow the contours of the mountain it’s built on .

I’m enjoying the park, but I’m also watching Rafe enjoy it. How his expression changes as he comes across each new feature, and every time he turns to me his face is alive and full of joy at each new discovery. I begin pointing them out for him, just so I can watch his reaction.

The whole park, as with much of Gaudi’s work, has an organic feel. Like it’s grown out of the landscape, some of it in a psychedelic way, but is still fitting in nature. Rafe in his light linen trousers and his honey-coloured shirt blends in too. After a couple of days reading on the terrace back at my aunt’s house, he is beginning to tan, and the sun has lightened the natural highlights in his hair, which just adds to his beauty. I take a few pictures of him when he’s not looking, but then he catches me. I ask him to pose, and he shakes his head but gives in with a shy smile.

“If I had known you would take pictures, I’d have worn something more suitable.” He peers down at his shirt.

“Why? What’s wrong with what you have on?” He looks delicious to me.

“I, um,” he stumbles. “Loretta, my um, ex-fiancé, never liked this colour on me. I could never wear it around her.”

Clearly the woman has no taste, but then that’s obvious as she left this gorgeous, funny, and very sexy man. But the way he says it gets my back up and a flash of anger rises.

“Well, first, you wear whatever makes you happy.” His small smile at my words causes the anger to fizzle out, and it’s replaced by something much deeper. I can’t explain why, but I take a step towards him. “I like the colour. It suits you. It brings out the amber in your eyes.” I stop speaking, now close enough to touch him.

I watch his throat bob as he swallows. His soft lips part slightly as he takes a breath. The overwhelming urge to kiss him returns. I could kiss him. I’m close enough. It isn’t like me to stall, but like last time, I don’t make a move. I want him to be happy, more than I want to take my pleasure from him. The realisation hits me full force in the solar plexus, and I take a step back with the weight of it. Stumbling slightly.

“Are you all right?” Rafe’s concern is clear as he rushes to my side. My skin tingles as he grabs my elbow to steady me. I’m a dancer, I’m surefooted as a cat. Why the hell does he have me stumbling around like a clown?

“I’m fine,” I mutter, hardly able to concentrate now that he’s so close and touching me. “Maybe it’s the heat.”

He gives me a curious look. Yeah, I’m not buying it either. It’s not even hot here yet. Not the heat I’m used to, anyway.

“Shall we sit down for a while?” He indicates a bench under the inclined columns of the promenade in front of us.

“Okay.” Yes, not being on my feet for a minute would be very welcome. I feel like I’m moving through treacle, hyper-aware of my body, or more specifically the body next to me. When we sit down he releases my elbow, which is a pity, but at least I can now breathe properly again. He turns to me.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

No, I’m not. I can’t think straight right now. All I want to do is to lose myself in your eyes, your lips, your arms. But I can’t do that. So I have to sit here with my heart racing and hope you don’t notice.

“I’m fine,” I say brightly. “I just need a minute.”

He nods and turns to look out at the view across the city. I try not to watch him, but I can’t help it.

A thought begins to gnaw at me, and once it’s there, I can’t let it go. Does he still have feelings for his ex-fiancé? It opens up a hole in me, a dark one. I have to ask, not directly of course, then I’d sound as crazy as I obviously am.

“Tell me about Loretta.”

He turns sharply to look at me, a deep crease in his brow. His nostrils flare slightly. Yes, it’s really bad that I’m noticing these details. Then his eyes dim slightly, and he slumps back against the bench.

“No. She’s my past now,” is all he says.

I don’t get the answer I’m looking for, which really is my own stupid fault for asking a dumb question. I don’t know whether he won’t reply because he still harbours deep hurt, or because what he says is true and he’s moved on. I hope it’s the last one.

I’ve broken all my rules. I allowed myself to fall for someone. And what’s worse is, he’s straight.

Shit.

After I feel like I can move again, I suggest we carry on. But thinking clearly? That might be messed up for some time. We follow the path through rhododendrons and magnolias. It appears the same as when we walked down this path earlier. The trees are the same and other people still pass us and greet us politely, allowing Rafe to practise his “buenos dias” at every chance he can. But nothing is the same, and never will be again. Not for me, anyway. I steal glances at Rafe. He’s a bit quieter than before and I’m not sure if I’ve caused it. I feel like I have somehow. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up his ex. It was a pretty arsehole thing to do, really. I want to lighten his mood somehow.

We reach the serpentine seat, the curving bench forming a balustrade for the roof of the Hypostyle Room. Its brightly coloured, fabulous patterns and motifs are depicted in a mosaic of thousands of ceramic tiles. Rafe’s face brightens when he sees it, his expression once more one of joy. I can’t blame him. I’m not sure anyone could feel down while surrounded by so much beauty. I watch, transfixed, as he reaches out to touch it, running his fingers over the surface, the tiles—some smooth, some with relief work. I watch his long fingers trace the cracks between the mosaics. I imagine what it would feel like to have those fingers tracing over me, following my contours, looking at me with the same reverence in his eyes. I crave it, the effects making me feel slightly dizzy. I need to get a grip and stop this nonsense. Maybe it is the heat after all. I pull out a couple of bottles of water from the bag I’m carrying. I hand one to Rafe, partly to get close to him again and partly to give his hands something else to do before I lie down on the bench in front of him and offer myself to him. But that’s not going to happen because I wouldn’t be able to stand his look of revulsion. Straight guys don’t go around touching gay ones.

I stand and look over the park, the warden’s cottage at the entrance catching my eye.

“Why did Gaudi shape that roof like a penis?”

I hear a sputtering and coughing beside me as Rafe spits out his drink. Shit, I nearly killed him.

“Sorry,” I say as he recovers. I offer to help, but he waves me away.

“It’s okay,” he reassures me, then pulls out his guidebook and finds the right page.

“It says here that it’s supposed to be a mushroom. Yes, look, it’s red with white spots. Like fly agaric, it’s poisonous but also hallucinogenic.”

“That explains a lot,” I chuckle, looking round at the colours and shapes that make up the park, a common theme of Gaudi’s work.

“It says here that he had an interest in mycology. That’s the study of mushrooms.”

“Well, he was well ahead of his time, then. I didn’t think it was a thing people did over a hundred years ago. ”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, looking thoughtful.

“I still say it looks phallic though, and that red bulbous top, surely there must be another meaning.”

“Given that, as far as we know, he was never in a relationship with anyone, and there is no recurring theme that points to any more phallic symbols, I’d say probably not.” Rafe closes the guidebook and takes another drink, still gazing at the huge rounded tip of the tower of the building. “But you know I’ll never unsee it now.” He gives me a huge grin. “I shall forever refer to it as the penis house.”

“That’s odd.” Rafe stares at the sign outside Constantin’s very closed bar. We’d arranged to come round after our trip. I was hoping we could encourage him to come out to eat with us. He might know of a good restaurant in the area. But the closed door and the sign bring a knot of worry. Rafe knocks on the door, but it’s a few moments before someone answers.

A very dusty and grim-faced Constantin stands in front of us. His shoulders deflate when he sees us.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I completely forgot you were coming.” He allows us in through the door and I stare at the carnage that was once his bar, my senses assaulted by the smell of wet plaster. “I’ve been a bit busy,” he explains.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” Rafe exclaims. Quickly followed by, “Are you all right?”

“No one was hurt. But yes, it appears the plumbing problem was a bit larger than I thought.”

“You don’t say,” I retort, and his lips form an even grimmer line. Sometimes, I really put my foot in it. “Can we do anything to help? ”

“No.” He sighs resignedly. “The builder has been and had a quick assessment. He’s coming back tomorrow to go over it more thoroughly. At the moment, we’re not even allowed to clean up in case anything else is likely to fall.” He looks weary as he drags a hand through his dusty hair.

Alena comes over. “What about if we move the bottles out of the bar and into the storeroom? It’s clean in there, and will stop them getting dirty when we do get a chance to clear up.”

“Good idea,” he says. And then a belated, “Thank you, Alena. Not sure what I’d do without you.” He sinks into a chair and it doesn’t look like he has the energy to move anything right now.

“We can help with moving stuff. Can’t we?” Rafe says, looking to me for confirmation.

“Absolutely. Just put us to work,” I reply.

Two hours later, we’re all seated round a table, eating the pizza Constantin ordered. We’re all pretty tired. After moving the bottles, we also moved any more stock that could be put in the back room, as well as all the glasses, mixers, and anything else not nailed down. It’s full in there, but at least it will stay clean.

“What now?” Alena asks, taking a bite of pizza.

“You go home,” Constantin replies. “All of you. I’ve called the band. I’ve called all my suppliers and cancelled all the orders for the foreseeable future. The building is secure, so there’s nothing more we can do until tomorrow.”

When we’ve finished eating, Anton rises, looking quite pleased he’s got the afternoon off.

Alena is slower to follow him .

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

“You’ve done enough, thank you,” Constantin says.

“Okay. Well, call me when you’re ready to start cleaning up.”

“You don’t have to?—”

“I want to.” She gives his shoulder a squeeze before saying goodbye and leaving.

Constantin watches her go.

“You know, I was just thinking of making her the bar manager a few days ago. It’s long overdue. Now, I don’t have a bar left for her to manage.” He gives a little huff, one that’s meant to be humorous even though the situation definitely isn’t funny.

“How bad is it?” I ask and watch as he drops his head, taking a deep breath before raising it again.

“It’s bad. I have insurance, but I don’t think it will cover all of it. This is a big rebuild. Then there’s the loss of earnings while it’s shut, staff wages, or letting them go, which I don’t want to do. I have some savings, but it’s going to be tough for sure.”

He looks around as if he’s seeing the devastation for the first time.

“There’s a part of me that wants to just walk away. I don’t have the energy to start again.”

“Are you really considering that?” Rafe says quietly.

“Not really. This bar is the only thing I have, so without it, I’m nothing. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, the first thing you’re doing is coming with us,” I state, and see a frown cross his face. “You weren’t really thinking of staying here, were you?”

He mumbles something and doesn’t meet my eyes. I grab his arm so I have his full attention.

“You cannot stay here. You have no water, and half your house has no floor. ”

“I’ll find somewhere,” he says, as if it’s the last thing he wants to do.

“No. You’ll stay with us,” I say firmly.

“But your aunt,” he protests.

“Will want you to come to the house. I’m only saying you’re coming with us now so I don’t have to trail down here later and haul your arse back up that hill when she sends me to fetch you.”

That does get a small laugh from him. He knows he’s beat.

“Now, if you can get back up those stairs, go grab what you need, otherwise we’ll have to make do,” I continue, not sure how that would work exactly as none of Rafe’s or my clothes are going to fit his broad frame.

“Has anyone told you that you’re stubborn?” he says, rising to obey.

“Frequently, and you’re welcome,” I call after his retreating back.