“Does Alma know?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t want her to think I was completely crazy either.”
“We’re both crazy, then,” he said. “How long? When did you know you loved me?”
She pulled at the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t go getting all cocky?—”
“It’s been a long time for me, Grace, just so you know. I’ve been a lovesick little fool, even though you were barely even speaking to me.”
“I guess I’ve been a fool, too, since you were all I wanted. It didn’t matter that I promised Alma I wouldn’t go falling for you. I couldn’t stop it.” Grace nuzzled into his chest, aching to have him closer to her.
Apparently, he felt the same way because in an instant Rafael slid his hands down her back to her ass and lifted her right off the stool. Grace wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him with a little squeal of delight, and he carried her through the apartment.
“Can we agree that you’ll be staying here tonight?” he whispered in her ear as he walked. “And any night, as many as you want.”
“Yes,” she said. “Can we agree that we won’t leave this bedroom for several hours until I’ve thoroughly had my way with you?”
Rafael pressed his lips to her neck. “I absolutely agree. Can we agree never to speak of the embarrassing time I tried to kiss you ten years ago, and you completely rejected me?”
Grace laughed. “Oh no, I think I’d like to talk about that quite often.”
He bit at her earlobe. “I was an asshole.”
“That’s why I didn’t kiss you,” she said, turning to kiss his cheek.
He grinned. “You’re kissing me now. You love me.”
“And what a surprise this would be for young Grace,” she said, before Raf threw her onto the bed and dove to join her. “Honestly even old Grace is kind of surprised.”
“You’re surprised at how you feel about me?”
Grace considered that for a moment. “I’m surprised this is real,” she said. And she meant it. After everything she’d lost, all the pieces of herself she was so sure would never fit together again. She’d found some semblance of peace and hope—because of her job, because of her friendships, because of the art exhibit, because ofhim.
“This is the realest thing I’ve ever felt in my life,” Raf said.
Grace started to unbutton his shirt, drinking in the sight of his bare chest, her fingers nimbly working their way down and down. She almost laughed when something her grandmother said jumped into her mind.A man with a firm torso is a special kind of gift.They’d been looking through one of Gram’s coffee table books, probably staring at a picture of a Michelangelo sculpture. Gram had a thing for abs, and she wasn’t shy about it. If she could see Rafael, then she would be absolutely giddy with delight on Grace’s behalf.
“What is it?” Rafael asked.
Grace ran a hand over his stomach. “You’re a work of art,” she said.
He laughed and shook his head. “You might be a little biased.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m still an expert.”
EPILOGUE
Grace racedup the stairs to her apartment, her satchel banging into the side of her leg with every step. She had to pause and catch her breath outside the door for a moment, because despite walking all over the entire city of Granada, a flight of steps still did her in. She regained her composure after a moment and then opened the door.
Rafael was on the phone, but his face broke into a bright smile when he saw her. He gave a little wave, which was frankly adorable. Grace moved to the office to drop off her bag, and by the time she was out again, she could tell Rafael was wrapping up. Her Spanish was still a work in progress, but very much improved. She could recognize that Raf was saying he had to go, and he would talk to the person on the other end of the line later. Based on the tone in Raf’s voice, it was probably a client.
Sometimes, Rafael would only speak in Spanish to help Grace learn the language, but she also just loved listening to him speak in his native tongue. She was finally able to understand more of the dirty things he whispered to her in the dark, though he kept coming up with new filthy vocabulary, and she could never quite keep up. It was still hot as hell.
He rose and walked toward her. “Feliz Cumpleanos, mi amora.”
She’d been living in Spain for over a year but only living with Rafael—this time—for a little over a month. It had been a mutual decision between Grace and Rafael, Grace and Alma, Alma and Obinna. Obinna was living in Alma’s apartment now, and Grace was surprised at how easy it was to feel at home at Rafael’s place again—bowl of pomegranates on the counter, the little window from what was now their shared office looking out over the rooftops along the slanted street, the stool where she’d been sitting the moment he told her he loved her.
Rafael kissed her, and Grace let her hand trail down his arm until she reached his hand, their fingers intertwined. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.
