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She ignored his sarcasm and concentrated on her ice cream. Maybe if they talked long enough, they could find a way not to break each other’s hearts. She wondered if the park closed at night. “I’ve been thinking.”
“So have I. Let me talk first.”
“I should object on principle, but go ahead.” She held her breath, afraid no matter what he suggested, she couldn’t agree.
“I told you I worked in the prison hospital, and when I was released, the doctor who’d brought me books, Claudio Mendez is his name, arranged for me to take the entrance exam for the University of Barcelona’s medical school. There’s been a medical school here since the end of the fourteenth century, and it has a fine reputation.”
“I’m sure it does. Did you seriously consider becoming a doctor?”
“No, I had my heart set on becoming a matador, but to please Claudio, if for no other reason, I took the exam and received such a high score I was offered a full scholarship.”
He paused to watch the parrots stream by in a burst of color and noise. “Now I think I made the wrong choice. Sunday I just felt numb. I’d been excited the week before because I finally had a chance to prove myself and become a full matador de toros. I’d worked for it since I was small. When we were at the ranch, I told you my age would prevent me from having a lengthy career, but the prospect of performing for a different crowd one more week, let alone several years, has lost all its appeal.”
She stared, unable to believe that he’d even consider ending his career so soon. It was an enormous sacrifice, and she had to offer something in return. “Don’t do this for me, because you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. I’ll find some way to live through Sundays. Maybe I can cook something that takes half the day to prepare, or go sailing without my watch, or volunteer at the zoo, or…”
He could only hold her fingertips. “Is that what you wanted to tell me, that you’d decided to stay in Barcelona?”
She’d thought the only loving choice was to go, but the hope in his eyes made only one decision possible. “Yes. I’ll rent an apartment and hire someone to help me until my hands are no longer a concern. I won’t be a burden to you.”
He set her bowl of ice cream on the ground and pulled her across his lap. “You’ll never be a burden to me. I know you wouldn’t have married a matador, but would you consider a medical student for a husband?”
The whole day took on a glorious amber glow. “Only if that’s what you truly want to be.”
He kissed her, and a couple walking by them laughed and kissed before walking on. “I’ve never been so frightened as when I found your wrists slashed, and I finally understood how horrible you felt worrying about me. It’s a moment of clarity I’ll never forget. I knew in an instant I could either work to save lives or stupidly continue to risk my own. I’ll never regret choosing to become a physician. Are you going to marry me or not?”
r /> “I’m too tired to dance, and I can’t use my castanets,” she reminded him.
He dismissed her concern with a ready grin. “Then we’ll sit in parks and eat ice cream until you can.”
She hugged him, taking care with her wrists. Everything about him felt right, and she had no doubts at all. She’d never loved another man, even doubted she was capable of such deep emotions, but she loved Rafael with a fierce passion. She couldn’t stop smiling. Craig was never going to believe it. “Yes, I will. I should call my mother. Will you please pull my phone from my purse?”
He unzipped her bag, found the cell phone, and then realized he’d have to hold it for her. “Do you know what you wish to say?”
“I think I’ll leave out the murder attempt and invite them to come to Spain to meet you.”
“We ought to get married while they’re here.”
She loved his smile. “There’s no need to rush.”
“Yes, there is. If you go home to Tucson to pack your things, I want to make certain you’ll come back.”
He was teasing, but there was a hint of truth in his words. “I’d come back even if I’d gone to the moon. You didn’t have a chance to read Augustín’s papers, but he let the only woman he ever loved get away. We’re not going to make that mistake.”
“I’ve grown very fond of Augustín.”
“Good. Do you think you might someday grow fond of Santos?”
He gave her the same disgusted look she’d seen on the day they’d met, and laughing, she hugged him tight and gloried in his seductive sent. “Rafael, where are the Seychelles?”
He leaned back. “They’re very beautiful islands in the Indian Ocean. Why?”
“Father left Santos a cottage there. Would it be a good place for a honeymoon?”
He looked out toward the fountain. “Knowing Miguel’s tastes, I’ll bet it’s a luxurious home with a spectacular view of the sea. I suppose it might do if Santos would lend it to us.”
“I’m sure he could be convinced to do so.”
Two boys, perhaps twelve years old, approached them slowly. One held out a scrap of paper he’d picked up from the ground. “Are you El Gitano? Would you give us your autograph?”
