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I turn to look at him when I hear my last name.
“What?” I ask him, no idea what he just said.
“I like it when you hide the princess and Mr. Hyde comes alive. It doesn’t happen often but when it does, I enjoy it. Even if you misplace the devil in the Underworld and things like that.”
“When did I do that?”
“Let Mr. Hyde come out and play, or the demon in the Underworld thing? Bah, it’s okay, don’t answer,” he says when I open my mouth. “After all, they’re the same thing. You just called your husband and the redhead Sons of the Underworld.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes,” he says, smiling.
“And he’s not my husband.”
“Yeah, whatever you say.”
I restore my smile and make a supreme effort not to show the sadness that overcomes me just at seeing them together after all this time. Well, at least it was true love. Shit, I don’t know which one hurts more: him hooking up with her out of sheer lust, or out of love.
“I don’t curse at people,” I say remorsefully. “I don’t like it. I need to control myself.”
“Why would you?”
I ignore his last comment and keep indulging in Mr. St. Claire’s appearance. It looks like I can’t control it; it’s an involuntary thing my eyes do by themselves.
“Stop looking at him so much,” Jaime says.
“He wasn’t this way when I dated him.”
“Datedhim? For fuck’s sake, Priscila, he’s your husband. I think you did a little bit more than just date him.”
I glare at him.
“He’s not my husband,” I repeat vehemently.
“Fine. What do you mean he wasn’t this way? What way?”
“I don’t know... that demeanor. He was a regular guy. Super handsome but... normal. True, he pretended to be something he wasn’t, and he didn’t show himself in his entirety to anyone; he swaggered through life, smug and arrogant, when he was actually quite the opposite, but... he did not have that demeanor.”
And my heart sinks to think that the boy I fell madly in love with has disappeared. I know it doesn’t make sense, I know it’s not rational, but I missed all this—my past, my life here. My life with him. Coming back to my hometown is awakening too many emotions at once, I guess. If only nothing... wrong had ever happened between us. I’d dreamt about it so many times... If only I could look at Alex with the same eyes as I did before. If only he was still my Alex. If only.
“What demeanor?”
I shake my head, considering Jaime’s question.
“When he was twenty-five he didn’t look like Mr. High and Mighty.”
“And you still married him.”
I give him another glare, the second in a span of two minutes.
“Pris?”
I turn at the voice and see my brother Marcos coming out of the private room behind the bar.
“Marcos?” asks Jaime, stunned. “When the hell did your brother arrive? He was at your parents’ when we left. And, by the way, shouldn’t he spend more time with his girlfriend? Fiancées are supposed to be together all day, aren’t they? And I haven’t met her yet.”
Fiancées. There, that’s the reason for my coming back here. My brother Marcos is getting married at the end of this summer, to his girlfriend of the last three years, and one of my best friends for twenty. Well, by best friend I mean best acquaintance, really; someone I share adventures with, go to parties with, maybe do some sports together. But not someone I share my life experiences or my most intimate thoughts with. I save those things for me, and my brothers, and—for a while now—for Jaime too.
