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‘Seems to be going around,’ she heard Javier growl quietly and Emily couldn’t help but laugh, a beautiful, loud peal that lightened her heart so much everyone joined in.
‘Congratulations,’ she said. ‘Can I?’
Mariana grabbed her hands and placed them proudly on her round belly. ‘Emily, meet Sara Torres,’ she said, moving one hand to the left side of her bump, ‘and her brother ÓscarJavierTorres,’ who was on the right.
Goosebumps prickled her skin as she took in the meaning of their son’s name and she looked up to catch Javier’s gaze on her and Mariana’s baby bump.
Emily wanted this. With him. She wanted to be pregnant with his child, to feel herself grow round with their child and the love that increased exponentially. She wanted to get things right with their child—all the things that their parents had got wrong. She wanted to soothe hurts and ease mistakes with their love and what they’d learned about themselves...but she wasn’t sure if theyhadlearned enough. She wanted so much to make this work, to make their marriage work, but all the will in the world wouldn’t amount to anything if they couldn’t put the past behind them. Javier’s eyes flared in understanding—as if he had sensed her thoughts—the connection acute and heartfelt until Santi severed it, demanding to know where the glasses were.
Javier sat back beneath the umbrella’s shade, happy to find respite from the fierce afternoon sun. The table was littered with plates and glasses, bottles and corks, andchurrocrumbs from Mariana’s side of the table. She and Emily had their heads bent towards each other, chatting away happily in a mixture of Spanish and English that had taken Javier by surprise.
‘That sounds amazing,’ Mariana gushed.
‘Oh, God, no. It was awful. But the client wanted it, so she got it.’
‘A green quartz bath worth...how much, again?’
‘One million euros.’
Emily was enthusiastic about her business—talking about it, she came to life, her movements and expressions much more fluid and confident. She took pride in her work, in her company and her ability, in a way that he hadn’t seen before. And he was suddenly curious. Curious about what her offices looked like, what her apartment was like. And he felt strangely awkward that, aside from the short, uncomfortable visit to her mother and stepfather, they hadn’t spent any time together in England. He had been in such a rush to make their home here, in Frigiliana—away from his mother’s house in Madrid, or his uncle in Barcelona, that he hadn’t realised how difficult and lonely it had been for her. And that when she had wanted to return to England, even just to see a friend, he hadn’t been there.
He fisted the cloth napkin in his hand and became aware of Santi’s heavy gaze.
‘So she found out that you were faking?’ he asked, pinning him with an unsurprised look.
‘What? You don’t think that I came clean?’ Javier demanded.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Fair,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘It has not been my finest moment, but she gave as good as she got.’
Santi raised an eyebrow in question.
‘Did you not see the parrot?’ Javier demanded.
‘I saw thecat,’ Santi replied. ‘And I hope to never again,’ he said, shivering and crossing himself.
‘Diabla is a Sphynx cat and they are very much misunderstood. They happen to be incredibly affectionate,’ Javier defended, unaware even then just how much he’d come to appreciate her.
‘If you say so,’ appeased Santi somewhat wryly. Javier ignored the bait. ‘I am glad to see Emily,’ Santi pressed on. ‘You are always a bit more balanced around her.’
Javier frowned.
‘You are my brother,’ Santi swore. ‘But I have no idea why you didn’t go after her when she left.’
‘It doesn’t matter. She’s back now,’ Javier replied.
‘Is she? For good?’
Javier didn’t know the answer to that question. And for the first time in his life he feared that stubbornness alone wouldn’t be enough. Thankfully, Santi let the subject drop and proceeded to tell them about his latest project, making them all laugh about the on-set drama from Hollywood’s latest A-list celebrity. Mariana caught his eye a few times, always seeing deeper than the surface, but compassion was there as much as love and Javier knew that she wouldn’t probe either him or Emily that day. It was enough to have this moment, the pure celebration of what his one true friend had achieved, he decided as he raised another toast to the film that had made them both.
The sound of his phone ringing cut through the moment, Santi exclaiming at the interruption as if it were a travesty. Javier glanced at the number and had marshalled his features by the time Emily looked across the table.
‘My apologies. I have to...’ He gestured at the phone and walked with it into the house, missing the shadow that passed across Santi’s face and what he mouthed to the question in his wife’s gaze.
‘Mother,’ Javier said, trying to keep his tone level despite the way his pulse lurched.
‘Where are you?’ she demanded, her tone imperious and shrill. Contrary to what one might assume, Renata didn’t drink. There had been no warning signs for him growing up, no empty bottles to find, no trace of drugs to detect. All Javier had was the ability to distinguish the tone of her voice. ‘Why are you not here with me?’
