Grace’s smile was perfectly friendly. “Okay, good.”
Neither of them moved for a moment. They just stood and stared at each other.
“You want to have a pomegranate?” he asked, backing into familiar, innocent territory.
“I do, but maybe later? I have to get to class.”
“Later then.”
“Great.” She hesitated for the first time, as if the planned part of her speech had come to an end, and she was wading into unfamiliar waters. “Um, yes, okay.”
Rafael put his hands in his pockets, a pretense of nonchalance. “I’ll see you tonight.” Tonight, when he wouldn’t be able to put his hands on her again. Tonight, when he would just have to lie there alone in his bed, even though she was so close, even though he knew the sounds she made when he pressed his mouth to hers. What sounds might she make if he pressed his mouth to other places? He wouldn’t be finding out, apparently.
She finally turned and walked out the front door with a little wave. Rafael raised a hand before rubbing it over his face when she was gone. He let out a dramatic sigh.Santo cielo.Everything was so much worse.
They kept their distance for a couple of days, as much as was possible in a small apartment. Grace seemed to spend longer days at the university and meet up with Alma more frequently after classes. Rafael threw himself into his work and courting other clients, but one fact remained: the cave was littered with crates of priceless Picasso paintings, and Rafael had no idea what to do with them. As much as he was dreading the long drive and the unavoidable proximity of his small vehicle, as much as he couldn’t imagine being tucked into a dark curve of the cave wall with Grace so near to him, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He needed her help. And as uncomfortable as it might have been when he brought it up to her, she agreed easily enough.
It was awkward on the way there with nothing to focus on but the road and the tension between them. Rafael could barely think of a word to say to her after he’d explained the disastrous state of the exhibition.
Grace nodded along, but she looked distracted too, like she couldn’t quite concentrate on what he was saying. She was wearing a silky purple scarf, and Rafael wanted to slide the material between his fingers, to tug at the fabric until it unraveled from her neck, coming undone. He wanted to make Grace come undone.
It was fine. Maybe he would go out with some friends that evening to take his mind off it. He could chat with another pretty girl at the bar, and all would be right with the world. It would settle back to the way it had always been. No more longing or aching or whatever the hell this was. It didn’t suit him. He was a man of action, a man who made detailed plans and executed them with precision. He didn’t need to sit aroundpining.It was childish and ridiculous. It was beneath him.
Grace pointed at a sign that displayed a giant pomegranate, her face lit up with delight, and Rafael felt his chest tighten. Okay, so his aching hadn’t subsided quite yet, but it would. He just needed to get through this one difficult day, and then he wouldn’t be required to spend time with her anymore.
It was easier in Sacromonte when they had something to talk about. They had quite a lot to talk about, actually, considering the utter disaster hiding out inside the walls of the cave. There were packaged precious paintings everywhere, each one accompanied by pictures, notes, and measurements, and while Christian had been a stickler about temperature settings and humidity and special gloves, without anywhere for them togo, the pieces were just waiting for the meticulous art handlers to get them perfectly placed on the walls of the venue. Christian was in a rush to get it all in order before something got damaged.
They’d also upgraded the security system in the cave, and Rafael gave a small nod to acknowledge the man in the suit near the front door. He was included in the package Christian had purchased, apparently, or he was on a roster of bodyguards Christian seemed to have handy whenever he needed to protect something precious. Grace barely seemed to notice the guard, sliding right past him and into the first room where priceless works of art rested in their expensive crates, waiting for examination.
“Holy shit,” Grace said, her mouth open with awe. She looked at him, as if for confirmation all of this was real. A flurry of art handlers rushed around, ensuring that each box was appropriately labeled and ready to be opened.
Rafael shrugged, but he couldn’t stop from grinning, pleased with how impressed she was. Grace crouched down by the nearest crate and picked up the packet of literature from the side pocket. She got to work in an instant, already spouting off knowledge about “periods,” early work, color, and brushstrokes.
Then Grace pointed at the painting that an art handler was unboxing with white gloves, an excited gasp escaping her lips. “Just look at this, Raf. Have you seen this?”
He was happy she was still using the nickname and their level of familiarity hadn’t completely fallen to pieces because of one perfect kiss.
“I’ve seen it at Christian’s estate, but I don’t know what I’m looking at.” Grace cocked her head at him, and he felt obligated to continue.
“Well, obviously it’s a woman.” He was aware he sounded like an idiot, but of course, he had no better analysis to offer. He was convinced the art handler snickered.
“Yes,” Grace deadpanned, but she didn’t bother teasing him. Instead, she went back to staring at the painting, and Rafael let out a sigh of relief to be free from her scrutiny.
“And?” he prompted, surprised by his curiosity about the work.
“Picasso painted a lot of portraits of her. This was one of his lovers. Dora Maar.”
The air seemed to thicken, and Rafael very deliberately kept his eyes on the painting. “Interesting way to portray your lover,” he said. Though the bright colors could have been called appealing, the subject of the piece was quite…abstract. He couldn’t help but think if he could paint, he would paint Grace a bit more proportionally. Not thatshewas his lover.
Grace shook her head. “But look at how he captures different aspects of who she is. She looks thoughtful and serious, but the background is bright and bold. She had a fiery side to her. And her eyes really feel like they’re looking at you, don’t they?”
Rafael coughed. “Almost too much.” The eyes were also uneven on the face, which made them even more unsettling.
Grace inched closer, and the art handler flinched, so she took a step back again. “I won’t touch it, I promise,” Grace said, and Rafael hid a smile.
“They had an intense relationship,” Grace continued. “I feel like you can see it in the way he paints her. I’ve never seen one of his portraits of her in real life like this. They were partners. They challenged each other intellectually. They had a passionate affair, but he was with other women at the time, too.”
Rafael’s eyes went wide. “What a guy.”
