“I’m sorry. What is your name?”
“Rafael Mondragon.”
The sergeant immediately reached out to shake his hand. “El Gitano. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He flipped to a new page in his notebook. “I’m glad to find you here. It will save us all time.”
Rafael repeated the same story he’d told in the emergency room. “If I’d been any later, we’d be having this conversation in the morgue.”
Shaken, Villa closed his notebook and shoved it into his pocket. “I was a great admirer of your father, Miss Aragon. This tragedy would have appalled him.”
“Indeed,” Rafael agreed. He succeeded in steering the man to the door, closed it behind him and returned to Maggie’s bedside. “You want to talk about being practical? You needn’t be practical to fall in love. It isn’t like buying a new refrigerator.”
He was being so stern with her, but she had to laugh. “No, not like buying an appliance at all; however…”
He silenced her with a soft kiss that grew increasingly demanding.
“I’m not saying I don’t love you,” she whispered against his lips.
“I love you, good-bye?” he scoffed. “Either you love someone or you don’t.”
Maggie felt light-headed and closed her eyes. “Let’s argue when I feel better.”
“Have I finally found something worth an argument?”
She opened one eye. “You’ll have to tell me about the transfusions and babies again. I only caught a part of it, but not now. My brain is as tired as the rest of me. Please go home where you’ll have a comfortable bed. I’ll be here when you come to get me in the morning. I promise.”
He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “You don’t want me to stay?”
“You needn’t watch me sleep.”
Ana Santillan tapped on the door and carried in a huge mixed bouquet with yellow gladiolas, purple iris, pink roses and white chrysanthemums. It was a glorious blend of colors and scents. “I won’t stay more than a minute.” She placed the vase on the nightstand and scanned the colorless room. “It’s thoughtful to bring flowers to someone in the hospital. Didn’t either you or Santos know?”
“Don’t put us in the same breath,” Rafael cautioned, and he went on out the door.
“What’s the matter with him?” Ana asked. She opened her purse and pulled out the tabloid that had bought her photographs. “What do you think of this?”
They’d placed the photo they’d had of Maggie dancing between two new photos of Santos and Rafael entering the bullring. “’Love Triangle Takes a Tragic Turn’,” Maggie read. The story recounted only her emergency trip to the hospital but had no details. “I should have been saving these bizarre stories for my memoir.”
“Are you writing one?”
“No, not yet, but it isn’t too early to begin collecting mementos. Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful, and Rafael’s been too worried about me to call a florist.”
Ana rested her hip on the bed. “Are you staying with him?”
The question sounded too much like an interview. “I need to rest. I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, we all want you to get well.” Ana hurried out of the room.
Maggie looked up to make certain Ana was gone. She expected Rafael to come back because he always did what he wanted, but the longer he was gone, the more anxious she became. She’d asked him to go. Maybe he’d been grateful for an excuse to get away. Nurses came in often during the night, and while she was grateful to have blood pressure to measure, each time the door opened she awoke expecting Rafael. He’d done exactly what she’d asked, but she felt abandoned. She’d leave him because she loved him, not because she didn’t, but he’d never understand her reasoning.
She wouldn’t be alive if he hadn’t come to her rescue, but he thrived on the terrifying risk of a matador’s life. He needed a wo
man who’d be proud of him and cheer when he strutted into a bullring, but she couldn’t do either. Tears rolled down her cheeks, dampening her pillow. She wished they could have danced a last time, but she wouldn’t have the strength for flamenco for months. Falling asleep, she remembered Augustín and Simone. It hadn’t mattered how little time they’d spent together; Augustín had never stopped loving her, and she’d never stop loving Rafael.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tuesday morning, Santos and Fox arrived at the hospital before Rafael. “He may have left Barcelona with all the money he earned on Sunday,” Santos declared. “I’ll file a police report if I’m not paid by noon.”
“You will not,” Maggie stressed. “He was with me all day yesterday. Give him a chance to visit his bank.”