21. Luis

CHAPTER 21

LUIS

L uis slinked from his private elevator into his penthouse like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. He'd been an idiot, and he knew it. He'd convinced himself that telling Clara how he really felt would be applying undue pressure to her. He'd neglected to take into account that she was being forced to make a difficult decision either way, and that having all the information might help with that.

The night he'd spent dancing with another woman — and a charming, attractive one at that — only served to convince him that Clara was the only woman he could ever fall in love with. "Hmm… Thank you, Cher," he said to his darkened penthouse, and he meant it. He'd needed that lesson more than anything.

He turned the lights on in each room, but the place still felt dark without Clara there. Strange how quickly he'd gotten used to her presence. His lifetime without her felt small in comparison. When he got to the nursery, he stopped at the door. Something kept him from stepping inside. He leaned on the doorframe and let his eyes scan the room. There were still handprints visible under the first coat of paint. He should have added a second, but somehow, there never seemed to be enough time. Now he didn't want to. They were her handprints, and he was thinking about her as though he would never see her again.

He tried to tell himself it would all be okay. She would be back from time to time. There would be life in his world again, a child and its mother. "But it's not enough," he muttered to himself. Greedy for her, that's what he was.

The nursery was softly lit and comfortable, but Luis couldn't think about anything other than Clara's kiss that night. He went to his desk, packed away in a storage space, and retrieved a pencil. Then he took it to the nursery and began to carefully trace the ghosts of those handprints on the wall. His child would love them, too, he thought. They were created in a time when both parents were happy, even if it was just a little while. When he'd finished tracing the handprints, he found a couple cans of leftover paint and a small brush, and he began filling in the handprints on the wall. His prints were blue, and Clara's were pink. The walls were a buttercup yellow.

He spent much of the night on this project until he could hardly keep his eyes open any longer. Then he went to sleep in his own bed for the first time in months. His pillowcase smelled like Clara, and she haunted all his dreams.

In the morning, he realized he couldn't begin to live like this, and he began to formulate a plan. First, he called Dawn.

"Hello?"

"Is Clara with you?" he asked.

"Luis?" She laughed. "You sound like a stalker."

"I just don't want her to know too soon."

On the other end of the line Dawn sighed, clearly running out of patience. "Know what, Luis?"

Luis lowered his voice as though everyone at Dawn's apartment might hear him if he didn't. "That I love her, and I want to fight for her."

"Really—" Dawn cried.

"Shhh! Don't spoil it," Luis hissed. "I want to surprise her. I thought maybe you could give me a few ideas."

"Hang on." He heard Dawn rustling as she shifted from one place to another. Soon there was the sound of a breeze and birds chirping. "Okay, I'm outside. What did you want to say?"

"I…" He'd never been so simultaneously frightened and brave. This was going to change his life forever, but he was ready for it. He was more than ready. "I want to propose to her."

"Didn't you already do that?"

"For real this time. Not for show."

"So it needs to be private."

"Yes!" He pointed at the empty space across from him as though Dawn were actually standing there. "See, this is why I need your advice. I hadn't even thought of that."

Dawn laughed, and he realized, for the first time, that she might actually like him. "Look, Luis, I've gotta be upfront with you. Clara told me everything last night."

His heart stuttered in his chest. "Everything?"

"Everything." Dawn shifted, and Luis heard her switching her phone from one ear to the other. "I know about your deal with her. I know you were going to pay for her fertility treatment in exchange for a wedding. And while I'm not at all pleased to know you used her that way, the truth is, you made her happy. I've never seen her so happy, to be honest. And I saw the way you looked at her every time we were all together. So the reason you're calling today? Not a surprise, my man. You really do love her, don't you?"

Luis didn't hesitate. "More than anything."

"You're going to be such a great brother."

He could hear Dawn's smile, and he felt heat creep into his cheeks at the thought of it. His family was growing, and a bigger family could only ever be more of a good thing. More of the best thing, truly. Family was Luis's weakness, or strength, depending how you looked at it. He would do anything for his family, and now that group included Clara, Dawn, her husband, and their parents. At least, he hoped it would. Clara could refuse him. "What if she says no?" He dared to voice his fears aloud.

Dawn cackled into the phone. "She won't. She's been pining away for you since she came here." Abruptly, she added, "Don't you dare tell her I said so, though."

"I swear it."

"Good. Now listen. Here's what you've got to keep in your head through all this. You aren't doing this to get a yes from my sister. That's a given. What you're doing is giving her the most memorable, joyful proposal ever. You're wiping out your earlier proposal in her mind. This is the one that counts. Understand? This is the one she's going to tell her future friends about when they ask about how you two got together. That's what you're giving her. A memory. A story. A dream come true."

Luis grinned into the receiver. "You're a poet."

"I am no such thing. Don't you dare spread that rumor to my parents. My God, do you have any idea the things that will be expected of me? They'll insist I publish something. It'll be a disaster. Dad never got over the idea that his daughters were some kind of perfect geniuses."

"All right, all right. I won't compliment you in front of your parents, but I could really use your poetic ideas right now."

"Okay." He heard Dawn making herself comfortable. "Listen. First thing, make it private. She needs to know this isn't just to bolster your reputation. And don't make it something only a billionaire could do. Let her see you for who you are. Get creative."

"Hang on." Luis put his phone on speaker, and pulled up a notepad. "I've got to write this all down. It's pure gold."

Dawn gave him several more tips, all of which he dutifully wrote down. He was feeling better and better about his ability to make it up to Clara, to fight for her the way she wanted to be fought for. He was going to find a way to become her dream come true, not just because he'd given her a child, but because he was a man she loved, and he wanted to marry her. He wanted to swoop in and make her world a thousand times better than it ever was before. Nothing would ever make him as happy as he would be when she smiled and meant it. He wanted her to tell her friends the story of how they met with a glimmer of pride in her eyes.

He knew several things he hadn't known before. Clara loved sunsets on the beach, which her sister teased her about endlessly. "She's a walking personals ad," she said. And she loved big romantic gestures, but somehow, it had to be private, too. Luis had several ideas, and he jotted them all down as soon as he thought of them.

The plan was going to come together beautifully. Luis was certain of it. And something about conspiring with Dawn made him feel like he truly was part of her family. He could hardly wait for Clara to feel like she was part of his family, too. The idea that she might actually refuse him darkened his thoughts every once in a while, and he would quickly stamp it out. There was no room for anything to go wrong.

He was pacing in his penthouse, planning everything like a supervillain. He called for Meredith to bring him a whiteboard so he could sketch it all out in large letters on his office wall — the nursery now. She stuck around for an hour or more, adding ideas of her own, and they were definitely good ones. Having spent time with Clara, Meredith had some knowledge of her idea of romance, her favorite things, her aesthetic.

At one point, Luis became frantic, talking too fast, erasing things before he'd really found an idea to replace them. Meredith smiled calmly from across the room, and Luis shot her a severe look.

"What?" he said. "What's so funny."

"Nothing." But she didn't stop laughing, and Luis crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down until she caved and answered. "It's just… I never thought I'd see you this in love with anyone. It's kind of beautiful really. You're a mess, and it's the happiest I've ever seen you."

Luis sighed and flopped down in a rocking chair. She was right. He was a mess, and he was happy, and he was worried. He was feeling so many conflicting things at once he could hardly keep track of them anymore. He buried his face in his hands. "I just want everything to be perfect."

Meredith's mouth quirked into a half smile. "But she won't."

"What?" He looked up from behind his fingers.

"Clara won't want everything to be perfect," his assistant said with confidence. "Listen. I have an idea, and it's perfect because it isn't, if that makes any sense."

"It makes absolutely no sense at all," Luis said with a sly grin. "But tell me anyway."