Page 125

Rafael steps back and opens the blue door wider.

I pull my suitcase over the threshold. The wheels bump against the stone lip, then rattle into a shaded entry passage. The air inside the wall is still hot, but different. Quieter. The street drops away behind me.

There’s a tiny courtyard between the street and the house. Whitewashed walls. Blue tiles around a little fountain. Plants in clay pots with glossy leaves and pink flowers spilling over. A narrow path leads to a second door with glass panes. The whole thing looks like someone spent money making it simple.

Rafael closes the street door behind us.

I follow him across the courtyard. Rafael unlocks the glass door. Cool air slips out. I feel it on my face and almost make a noise.

The house is not what I expected. No, I don’t know what I expected. Paul’s Riverside house in Mexican drag, maybe. Something huge and cold and polished enough to make me not want to leave fingerprints.

This isn’t that. It’s nice. Really nice.

The living room is open and bright, with white walls, blue tile accents, just like the courtyard, and a couch that looks expensive but not terrifying. Two chairs angle toward patio doors. The kitchen is tucked along one side with wood cabinets and a little island.

Nothing as intimidating as the mansion.

Rafael watches me take it in.

“This is Casa Sirena,” he says.

“It’s nice.”

Rafael nods as if nice is acceptable.

“Mr. Paul usually arrives later in the season.”

Mr. Paul.

Now I’m Mr. Clint.

I shift my backpack on my shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s not coming on this trip.”

Rafael’s polite face does something very small. Not surprise exactly—adjustment.

“I see.”

He does not see.

Or maybe he sees too much.

I reach into my backpack. “I have paperwork. Well, emails. Kev—I mean my lawyer—said everything was explained.”

Rafael lifts one hand gently.

“Yes. It was explained.”

“I’m Renny’s son.”

The words come out before I decide to say them. They don’t feel quite right on my lips.

Rafael nods. “Yes.”

I hate that I need more from him. A reaction. A welcome. Something stupid and impossible like, Of course, you have his eyes.

I don’t even know if I have his eyes. I have Linda’s mouth and my granddad’s frame and no idea what part of me came from the man who bought this house.