Chapter 43

I sign my name on yet another document that Senor Bernat puts in front of me. This is to set up my own secure storage at the bank. There have been several documents, signing over ownership of most of the art that hangs on the walls of the mansion. I don’t know much about them, and I’d usually ask Rafe as he has far more knowledge of art than I do, but he’s not here. No one’s here. It’s just my aunt, Juana, and myself, and it feels empty.

Apparently, on paper, I’m now very wealthy. I’ve craved financial independence all my life and now that I have it, it brings me zero joy. I wander listlessly around the house, trying to avoid areas that bring back memories, which are pretty much all of them. Instead, I spend more and more time with my aunt, reading to her and talking with her, but even she grows weary of my melancholy.

I’ve spoken with Rafe a few times, and while he says he’s coming back, each time he feels more distant—more English— which is a ridiculous thing to say. I don’t know whether he noticed, but from being with us so much, he’d started speaking English with a Spanish accent. Now it’s fading every time he calls me, and that makes me sad in a way I can’t describe. It’s like every time you look at a picture, the colour fades, making it look more translucent. That’s only one of the layers of emotion I’m experiencing. I hover between anxiety that he’s going to forget me and sadness that he won’t want to come back. Then there’s the huge part of my heart that Constantin has ripped out and left bleeding. I didn’t even know I loved him too until he left.

I knew the moment I fell for Rafe; it hit me like a freight train when we were in Park Güell. It was the day when everything looked brighter and tasted sweeter and I knew I would do anything for him, even if that meant letting Constantin in. I liked Constantin a lot, but I didn’t think I was in love with him. I was expecting another huge impact, but nothing came. There was no big revelation. My love for him is more subtle, it’s grown gradually, like ivy taking possession of a house, entwining its roots into the brickwork. I didn’t notice how much it had become symbiotic with my soul until he tore it all away.

I walk into the kitchen, usually my happy place, but I can’t calm myself by cooking. What’s the point? There’s no one to cook for. I miss seeing Rafe burning pancakes as I distract him with kisses, or having them try to steal empanadas when they think I’m not watching. The conversations we’ve had over the many meals we’ve taken together. What was it all for, if I’m left feeling like this? I stare uselessly into the refrigerator, trying to remember what I came in for. Something to eat? No, that can’t be right. I’m not hungry. Maybe just some coffee then.

I force myself into the ballroom and make myself dance, partly because I need to exercise so I can keep supple, but I’m hoping that moving my body will unlock some of the heaviness I’m feeling. Going through the varied practice routines does help to a certain extent, but the memories crowd round me as soon as I stop. Constantin at the piano, his soulful dark eyes watching Rafe and me dancing. Beautiful, sweet Rafe in my arms, always trying his best, and his joy when he gets something right. It’s too much and I can feel the tears welling up again. I thought I was done crying, but it seems the tears aren’t done with me. I sit on my bed, my arms gripping a sweater Rafe left behind. Like I have every night, I bury my head in it, inhaling the scent of him.

My phone rings and my heart jumps a little as I see it’s Rafe.

“Hey,” I say as I answer it.

“Hey, Flo. Baby, I’m coming home.”