It was a decision Grace didn’t know how to make. She was rebuilding her life after all, brick by excruciating brick. And Rafael had the power to bring so much of it crumbling down.
But she would still have Alma, no matter what. She would still have her students and art. She would still have Spain. Maybe she could have Raf, too, if she was willing to try.
“He’s probably over this whole thing by now. He probably doesn’t even care. Just because he saved one little event. I mean, it’s a savvy business decision.”
Alma snorted. “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t think cancelling a free student event would hurt the little museum too much with the kind of company Christian keeps. I doubt Christian really needs to hold any events at the museum. He just gets an ego boost from its existence. I think there was no way in hell that Rafael would let something happen that would hurt you. And that’s the kind of motivation I can understand.” She took Grace’s hand in hers and squeezed. “But I don’t know. I guess he’s the person you have to talk to. Or don’t. Do whatever you think is best, and I’ll love you no matter what.”
“Thank you,” Grace almost whispered.
Alma sighed with mock exasperation. “Why are you thanking me this time? I thought we’d moved past this.”
Grace leaned forward and rested her head on Alma’s shoulder. “I don’t know. This is just a big blanket thank you, I guess. Thank you for being you. Thank you for telling me about what happened. Thank you for being my friend.”
Alma wrapped an arm around Grace and squeezed. “Thank you for beingmy friend. You literally let me sleep in your tiny bed for a week when I was fighting with Obinna, and you never even complained when I stole all the blankets.”
“I was cold, too,” Grace teased.
Alma flicked her arm. “So, what now? What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
“Is Rafa going to be at the event tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Could she really be in the same room with him now that she had Alma’s permission to care about him? What would that even look like?
“But you have feelings for him, right? I’ve been watching the two of you, and even if you were pretending to be normal for my sake, there was something there.”
Grace pressed her lips together. “I need to think for a while.”
“Right,” Alma said, getting up. “Very smart. You ponder it for a while and let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
Grace sunk back into her pillows, still unmoored by Alma’s revelations. “What would you help with, Alma?”
Alma shrugged. “I don’t know. If you had any questions about him? He’s my brother, though, this is very new territory.”
Grace smiled. This was the most they’d discussed Rafael since Grace had broken things off with him. It felt like old times in their friendship, teasing each other about the men they were dating. “I mean, I did always think he was hot.”
Alma gagged dramatically. “This is going to be so gross for me to witness.”
Lucia and Marco gave Grace a ride to the caves. She sat in the back seat of their little car twisting the hem of her dress in her hands. She truly didn’t know if Raf would be there, and she hadn’t come to any decisions about what she would do if he was. Probably just say hello and try not to think about the possibility of going home with him, of letting him touch her everywhere again. She had to keep reminding herself that Alma could be wrong. The fact that Rafael had apparently saved this event could mean nothing. He was just doing the right thing. And even if he had really meant it that he wanted to be with her before, he’d probably already moved on.
She wasn’t even sure she wanted to admit how she felt for him anyway. It was probably easier to keep forging ahead without getting bogged down by any more emotions.
“You are very quiet,” Lucia said, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
Marco turned in his seat and looked her over as well. “Everything okay back there?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Just lost in my head, I guess.”
“Thinking about Expressionism? That’s basically what I imagine is always going on in your head, if I’m honest.”
Grace smiled. If only. “It does occupy my thoughts on a regular basis.”
Lucia glanced at Marco, and he translated for her. They went back and forth in Spanish for a bit. “Mama thinks you have the mind of an artist,” Marco said.
“I don’t know what you mean by that, Lucia, butgracias.”
“You look for the beauty,” Lucia said.
