Rafael snatched her hand in his in an instant, holding it tight. “You’ll pay for that.”
Alma cleared her throat, and Grace noticed the way her eyes were darting between them.Shit.Raf dropped her hand. Grace took a step back. She waited for accusations or for Alma to pull her aside to claim the situation was dire, and Grace needed to leave the apartment immediately. Instead, Alma just shook her head, her demeanor suddenly changed.
“You okay, Alma?” Grace asked. Alma appeared to have drifted off again, as if the spell of eating the pomegranate had been easily broken, and she was being forced to reckon with the constant cycle of thoughts that had been plaguing her all week.
“I think I’m going to try calling Obinna,” she said, as if it had just occurred to her for the first time that this was a thing she could do. Maybe it had just occurred to her that she was brave enough to pick up the phone and try.
Grace breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”
“Yeah,” Alma said, turning away, her voice suddenly so quiet. “I think it’s time to see where we stand. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Grace’s eyes followed her best friend across the room, and she remembered late nights at their favorite restaurant with a mountain of nachos between them, cheese painting the corners of their mouths. She remembered lying in one of their beds on a Sunday afternoon talking about the future—careers in biotech and grad programs in art history and then all the painful details of their family histories. Throughout all of it, so many years of getting to know this amazing person, she’d never seen Alma so sad. Alma was always the strong one; she always had a plan and never suffered fools. Alma had never come close to a broken heart, and Grace felt helpless in the face of it. She knew exactly how it was to have that sadness hovering over you, lingering through every interaction. She just hoped that for Alma, it would be short-lived.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Pomegranates were supposedto be safe. They were one of Rafael’s acceptable topics of conversation with Grace, something to keep him in check, to keep him from wanting her all the time. Look how well that had worked out. Not only had he slept with his sister’s best friend, but now he was drooling over her as he watched her lick pomegranate juice from her fingers. There was a spot on her lip where a tiny bead of juice had avoided her tongue, and he wanted to rub his thumb over it. Not just his thumb. He wanted to suck it into his mouth, to taste her pomegranate lips, and he knew he was doing a terrible job of hiding it.
When Alma left the room with her phone pressed to her ear, Rafael let out a long breath.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand against the back of his head.
“For what?” Grace asked, genuinely confused.
“For—um—not being able to resist you?”
Grace rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Then she gestured to where Alma had just exited. “I hope this is a good sign. Calling Obinna.”
“I hope so, too.” He touched a lock of hair that had fallen against her neck.
“I really think they’ll get back together. Even in his tiny apartment, they were having so much fun. But…” She lowered her eyes. “I guess either way you’ll have your place all to yourself again.”
Rafael felt his entire body tense. “All to myself? What about you?”
Grace shifted on her feet. “Oh, Alma didn’t mention it? She heard from the landlord yesterday. He said the apartment is almost ready. Finally.”
Rafael dropped the piece of her hair he’d been tugging, suddenly feeling like he’d just fallen from a great height. “Oh. How soon would you be able to move back in?”
“Just another week or so, he thinks.” She glanced away from him again, suddenly very interested in the remaining pomegranates on the counter.
Rafael nodded. Obviously, this was what was meant to happen. Grace had been staying with him longer than anticipated already, so of course she would be leaving soon. Still, the thought made it hard to swallow. It felt so natural to have her there all the time. He hadn’t been back in Spain for very long, and she’d quickly become part of his life there, part of his home.
He cleared his throat. He could hear the hum of Alma’s voice through Grace’s bedroom door. He could only think of it as Grace’s bedroom now. What would it be when she was gone? It would still belong to her. He would still remember the way she stared out the little window, studying the city through a pane of glass. He didn’t know what to say. What was he going to do, beg her to stay because they’d slept together twice even though they weren’t really dating? It was too soon, especially for someone who had never had a real relationship before…and for another someone who had just gotten out of a long one. It didn’t make any sense.
That didn’t stop him from imagining it though, what it would be like if she were to stay, if they could belong to each other.
He stared into her eyes for a long time without speaking, trying to read the look on her face, to make sense of her feelings about moving out of his apartment.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m wondering why you’re looking at me like that.”
Rafael shook his head, uncertain how to navigate the tension between them, how to cross the line between flirtation and something deeper. “You know why.”
Grace glanced up at him with some measure of surprise and released a shuddering breath. “Maybe.” She brushed some hair from her face and tilted her head at him as if something had just occurred to her. “You know what else I’m wondering?” she asked.
He rubbed a knuckle against the back of her wrist, waiting.
“In Barcelona… I know you didn’t even like me.” Rafael immediately tried to protest, but she stopped him with a held up hand. “I know you didn’t. It’s okay. I was immature, and you were…too mature.”
