He cocked a brow. “Only a friend?”
“Let’s leave the past where it belongs. He’s the one who encouraged me to come here, but he didn’t expect me to meet you.”
“So he’s anxious for you to go home?”
“He is, but I’m not.”
“Good. Let’s dance while we wait for our food to be delivered. Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping. I have a dark suit, but you’ll want something new, won’t you?”
“I have things I could wear.”
“You’re Miguel Aragon’s daughter, and you’ll be expected to attend the funeral dressed in something new.”
“Something expensive and more fashionable than my present wardrobe, is that what you mean?”
“I don’t want reporters to make fun of you.”
“It won’t matter what I wear if Carmen spreads her version of how her son died.”
Rafael waited until they had entered his apartment to respond. “We’re alone. Tell me what really happened.”
“You’ve heard it. There’s nothing more.”
He ran his hands up her arms. “There’s a lot more. I can see it in your eyes. Are you trying to protect me? What can be worse than learning he didn’t care whether I lived or died?”
“He didn’t say that to me.” She slid her arms around his waist to pull him close. “He died, Rafael. Let him go.”
He sighed softly and pulled away. He went into the kitchen to look for a menu from a nearby café. She took her phone from her purse and went out on the stairs to return Craig’s call. He answered on the first ring.
“I heard the news about your father on CNN. Are you all right?”
“Yes, the funeral’s on Wednesday, and I want to stay here until after the will is read. I have a younger brother who might need a home.”
“What? How old is he?”
“Sixteen.”
“You don’t need a sixteen-year-old brother, Maggie. Don’t let anyone talk you into that.”
Sick of his advice, she held her phone away from her ear and counted to ten before she answered. “It’s my idea, Craig, not anyone else’s. I haven’t even spoken to him about it. Now I need to go, dinner’s ready.”
“Promise you’ll call me when you know when you’re coming home.”
“I will.” She ended the call and remained seated on the top step. She could understand Craig’s motives a whole lot better from Spain that she had at home. He’d always presented his suggestions as a friendly expert who had her best interests at heart. What he’d really wanted was to convince her she needed him in her life. She didn’t.
Rafael came outside and sat down beside her. “I can cook. I just have to remember to buy food.”
She leaned against his shoulder. “It helps to make a list, but I don’t care what we eat tonight. I’m worried about Fox, but I don’t know if he’d want to live with me.”
“We’ll need a bigger place if he does.”
She squeezed his arm. For a dark-eyed Gypsy, he was awfully agreeable, but she couldn’t promise to stay with him when their lives simply wouldn’t blend. They didn’t need to learn it the hard way either. For the moment, however, it was enough simply to sit together and think about possibilities for dinner.
Santos propped his leg on the coffee table and reluctantly considered taking Maggie’s advice and calling someone to come stay with him. There were women who’d leap into their cars to dash over and provide affectionate company, but he wouldn’t give them the impression he cared about them when he didn’t. He preferred to be alone. He reached for the file of Augustín’s papers and removed the white stationery Maggie had grouped in the front.
They were written in his grandfather’s most elegant handwriting, not the relaxed scrawl of the yellow sheets, but the man’s lingering love for a young woman he’d known only a few weeks stretched belief. Augustín had seldom smiled or laughed. He’d never shown any pride in being a grandfather. Perhaps he’d always been such a serious individual, and if so, would the pretty Simone have fallen in love with him? Maybe she’d simply enjoyed the drama of knowing a handsome matador, or the fact her father hadn’t approved. The latter was more likely the truth.
He wondered if his grandmother had known about Simone. He hoped not. Carmen was too unforgiving a woman to have understood her husband’s passion for another. He returned the sheets to the file and closed it. It was better not to love anyone than to wreak havoc in their life with loving promises that couldn’t be kept.