Seeing Anna’s face turn to stone, Mitch regretted it instantly.
“Try not to embarrass you,” he corrected himself, draining his glass of water in one swallow.
* * *
“Why do I go to so much trouble if people are perfectly happy eating hay?” Anna grumbled later, twirling her fork in the plate of spaghetti Bolognese the waiter had just set down. “Look around – they all look delighted – and look at that mess on your plate!”
Mitch eyed his ravioli, swimming in an opaque, vaguely creamy broth. He took a few banknotes from his wallet, slid them under the bread basket, and stood up.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the door.
Out on the street, he slipped an arm around Anna’s waist and led her away. This time he knew exactly where to go. After ten minutes of walking – faster than his leg should have allowed – he stopped in front of a crêpe stand and ordered for them both without asking what she wanted.
When she bit into her chestnut crêpe, her eyes widened.
“Do you make these with real chestnuts?” she asked the vendor incredulously.
“If you like my food, at least make the effort to be polite,” he drawled.
Two crêpes later, Anna was sated and content.
“Better?” Mitch asked as they started walking again.
“Sorry about earlier. My nerves are all over the place.”
“Are you apologizing for saving me from food poisoning? Maybe Salinas ate at that restaurant the night he died.”
“I think I’m in way over my head,” Anna admitted. “Maybe I should quit before it’s too late and ask José if he needs a sous-chef.”
“There’s nothing wrong with believing in yourself, Anna.”
“I’m in a race against the clock. There’s no way I’ll ever have time to cook, invent new dishes, and run that damned restaurant all at once.”
“There is more time than you think,” Mitch said gently. “Trust me – I know what I’m talking about. Just be patient. You’ll get there.”
They returned to the van. Mitch got behind the wheel and drove Anna home. As soon as they stepped inside, they went straight upstairs to her bedroom.
He undressed her slowly and held her, naked, in his arms. He carried her to the bed, breathing all his love for her into every touch and kiss. Anna buried her fingers in his hair, letting herself be swept away by his movements – firm yet tender – until she lost herself in the pleasure. At last, she cried out, her skin damp with sweat, her breath so ragged she wondered if she’d forgotten how to breathe. Face buried in Mitch’s neck, she drifted slowly back down to earth.
“The day we met,” she whispered, “I felt safe for the first time in my life. There was something about you… I couldn’t explain it, even to myself. It wasn’t just a feeling – it was a knowing. A certainty that nothing would ever be the same again. You’ve worked so hard to get to know me… I’m sorry I haven’t done the same. Mitch, I don’t know how long our story will last – ten months, ten years, or forever. But promise me this: if one day I don’t see you even though you’re right in front of me, tell me to look at you. If I stop hearing you while you’re still beside me… remind me. I know how much that matters today – maybe it’s the most important thing of all – and I don’t want to forget it tomorrow.”
* * *
In the middle of the night, while Mitch slept deeply, Anna got up quietly, slipped on the shirt he’d discarded at the foot of the bed, and crept downstairs, pausing whenever the floor creaked.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she opened Salinas’s notebook.
The first line struck her like a confession:
In this corrupt and degraded society, every human must be considered a potential enemy. It is the only way to combat lunacy and deviance.
She turned the page and kept reading.
An hour later, a sudden unease made her raise her head. She crossed the living room and peered out the window overlooking the street. The darkness smelled of danger.
She scanned the cars parked along the sidewalk. Was that a figure behind the wheel of a sedan? It was parked too far away for her to be sure, but Anna had learned to trust her instincts. They hadn’t failed her yet.
Chapter 25