She knows that sooner or later they’ll have to face it.
Because things have already started to take a different turn.
And when they do…
Nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter 20
“Don’t forget to come back soon, or I’ll have a heart attack.”
Bruno utters the phrase with such theatrical exaggeration that his voice echoes in the building’s small landing. He’s leaning over one of his suitcases, checking for the umpteenth time that the zipper is securely closed, while casting a look at Rebeca filled with the humor that has defined their friendship for years. His eyes sparkle with the same mischief as always, though beneath the joke lies a deep, almost protective affection.
“Remember, it’s your fault for moving,” he adds.
Rebeca, leaning against the doorframe of her apartment, raises an eyebrow and watches him with amusement. Morning light streams in through the landing window, casting a pale strip across the floor and partially illuminating the suitcases Bruno has left by the elevator. The air still holds the night’s chill, and she crosses her arms to retain a little warmth.
“That’s not true,” she protests, though there’s more affection than anger in her voice. “You were the one who convinced me I needed a change of scenery, remember? ‘Santander will be perfect for you,’ you told me. ‘You’ll finally be able to settle down there.’”
Bruno straightens up and winks at her.
“And I still think it was a brilliant idea. Look at you: you’ve got color in your cheeks now, and you’re even smiling without realizing it thanks to certain reunions,” he teases mischievously. “I’m just the messenger of fate.”
Rebeca pouts slightly, exaggerating the gesture as if to show she’s not entirely convinced. Then she raises her hand and slaps him on the arm.
“You’re such a pain. You always have to have the last word.”
At that very moment, the door across the hall opens, and the sound of the lock causes them both to turn their heads at the same time.
Martina appears in the doorway. She’s dressed with a simple elegance that nevertheless catches the eye immediately. She’s wearing light-colored pants that flatter her figure, paired with an ivory-colored long-sleeved blouse whose sleeves are slightly rolled up to her forearms, revealing the pearly skin dotted with freckles that Rebeca never tires of counting. A light knit jacket rests on her shoulders, and her hair falls loosely around her face, slightly wavy, as if she had left the house in just enough of a hurry not to worry too much about it.
Rebeca stares at her intently.
She feels that familiar reaction in her chest, that immediate mix of attraction and dizziness that seems to kick in every time she sees her. Her heart races without permission, and a treacherous heat spreads from the pit of her stomach to the base of her neck. It’s as if her body remembers every caress, every whisper, every forbidden touch in the darkness of the beach and her apartment before her mind does.
Martina also pauses for a second when she sees her.
Then she smiles calmly, though her blue eyes betray a deep gleam.
“Good morning.”
Rebeca takes a moment to respond.
“Good morning.”
But Bruno has already taken a step forward, oblivious to the feelings filling the space between them.
“Nice to meet you,” he says with complete ease, extending his hand. “I’m Bruno, Rebeca’s best friend. The one who puts up with her when she gets dramatic and the one who carries her bags when she goes overboard with shopping,” he jokes.
Martina accepts the greeting with a smile.
“Martina.”
The handshake lasts barely a second before Bruno, with his usual spontaneity, leans in to give her two quick kisses on the cheeks.
“Rebeca has told me a lot about you. Too much, I’d say. And all good things, of course.”
When Bruno turns away, the look Rebeca gives him could have frozen the entire Cantabrian Sea.
