Read Meet Me in Barcelona Online
Authors: Mary Carter
Meet Me in Barcelona (14 page)
“She has you too, pumpkin. And you promised her Barcelona.”
“Okay.” A familiar lump was lodged in her throat. She did not want her father to hear her crying.
“What are you lovebirds up to today?”
“We're going to go to the Miró Museum.”
“Excellent.”
With Carrie Ann
. He had enough to worry about. Considering how upset he had gotten when he thought Jody was simply imagining Carrie Ann, Grace definitely didn't want to give him the news long distance. “Give Mom a kiss for me.”
“I'll give her two. And you just enjoy every minute you can.”
Â
There was a Spanish guitar player at the base of the hill leading up to the Miró Museum. The delicate notes immediately lifted Grace's mood. She sat on the edge of a concrete wall and closed her eyes. The sun felt good on her eyelids, and she let the music wash over her.
“I wish I had my camera.” It was a male voice, and, unless he had learned how to pull off a foreign accent in the past few hours, it wasn't Jake. Grace opened one eye. Standing very near, to her right, was a man staring at her with a slightly crooked smile. He was a foot taller than her, had wavy brown hair, eyes the lightest brown she had ever seen, a dark tan, and stubble. He didn't look Spanish, and his accent sounded slightly French but not quite.
“He's good, no?” he said. Grace nodded and looked away. She had always been shy about being hit on, and relieved when she had met Jake, thinking that part of her life was over. She could already feel her cheeks heating up. Jake was always comparing her openness while playing onstage to her shyness in everyday life, but in her mind they were totally separate things. When she was on stage she had an entire audience to hide behind. One-on-one was much more intimidating. Still, as a performer, it was something she should probably learn to get over. Carrie Ann certainly never had a problem around people.
“Do you play?” the foreigner said, gesturing to the guitar.
“Not Spanish guitar,” Grace said. “Not like that anyway.”
“But the guitar you play. No?”
“How did you know?”
“You are strumming the air.” Grace looked at her hands, and sure enough they were in guitar position. It startled her, and then she laughed. The foreigner laughed with her and then edged closer. “I have always admired musicians. They can play what they feel. Me? I must always keep it inside.”
Grace smiled and nodded. It was the best gig in the world.
Sing her pain
â
“How long have you been in Barcelona?” He too sat on the concrete wall, although he gave her plenty of space.
“I'm losing track,” Grace said. “I think it's our sixth day.” There. She brought up Jake by the use of the word “our.” If this man was hitting on her, he'd probably say “Are you with your boyfriend?” or some such, and he could soon be on his way. Otherwise, maybe he was just being friendly. Music had a way of opening people up, allowing them to let down their guards. “How long have you been here?” Grace asked.
“Sixteen days.”
“Wow.” She wondered what he did that allowed him so much time off. Then again, he was European, and they always had more vacation days. “Where are you from?”
“I am from Belgium,” he said.
“Cool.”
“But I have been traveling for the past year.”
“For the past year?”
“Yes. I write a travel blog.”
“Wow.” She was suddenly very conscious of using the word “wow” twice in close proximity; she probably sounded very American. And that, as every American learned while traveling in Europe, was never a good thing. Grace looked at her phone. Jake should be along in twenty minutes. The stranger was indicating the musician.
“Maybe he would let you play,” he said. “If I ask nicely.”
“Oh, no. No. I couldn't. I wouldn't.”
“Why not? I would love to hear you play.” He kept his eyes on her and continued even when she broke eye contact. She felt a chemical attraction to him, and it was making her feel a little guilty. He was very attractive. It was normal, she supposed, to have this reaction to a handsome man, but it still jarred her. She hadn't felt any sexual feelings toward any other man since she had met Jake.
“Where all have you been?” Grace wanted to get the focus off of her.
“I have been all over Europe of course, and some to the States, but in my last job I was living in the Congo.”
Grace watched him to see if he was putting her on, but his light brown eyes remained steady. Would he think she was hitting on him if she told him how unique his eyes were? And even more startling,
would
she be hitting on him?
The only things she knew about the Congo were from Barbara Kingsolver's
The Poisonwood Bible
. She figured it was a very beautiful but very dangerous place. “What took you to the Congo?” Something told her this man was the type to go exactly where no one else would.
“I was the director of an international rescue agency.” Once again, no trace of joking.
“Wow.” Oh, God, there she went again. “I'm sure you have a ton of stories.”
“You could say that.” He smiled at her as if he had a ton of juicy ones that he was never going to tell.
“It must be a pretty tough place to live though?”
“Of course. Our building was surrounded by a stone wall and armed guards. My house was guarded as well. Plus I had three dogs. The people, they have it rough, but they are survivors. But do not feel sorry for me. I had good pay and a beautiful house on a lake. I would kayak every morning. I also had a lot of friends. You have to put the tough times in perspective.”
Grace stopped herself from saying “wow” again. They were sitting pretty close, just staring at each other, when a female voice sliced through the air.
“Up to no good, we see!” Grace and the man turned to see Carrie Ann waving and shouting from a few feet away. Jake was next to her. She was wearing the shortest red dress Grace had ever seen, and it looked fantastic on her. Jake at first looked sheepish, until he glanced at the man sitting so close to Grace. Then he looked annoyed. Carrie Ann on the other hand, eyed the foreigner up and down like she was going to bid on him at auction.
“Jake,” Grace said. “I'm so glad to see you.” It was true too. An overwhelming feeling of relief flooded Grace, as if she had feared she would never see him again. Not caring who was watching, she launched herself into his arms. “Where were you?” she said when she finally pulled away.
“I got caught up with a few things,” Jake said.
“I overslept,” Carrie Ann said.
“Stefano said he saw you go into Carrie Ann's apartment,” Grace said to Jake. “I knocked on the door for like fifteen minutes and tried calling both of you.”
“Stefano?” Jake said.
“The guy who sits at the desk,” Grace said.
“Lovers,” Carrie Ann said. She elbowed her way between them and looped arms with each. “Let's not fight in front of our new friend.” She gave the Belgian man the once-over, her smile widening as she took him in. She held out her hand. “I'm Carrie Ann,” she said. “And you are?”
“I am Jean Sebastian,” the man said.
“Of course you are,” Jake mumbled. Grace snuck a glance at him. Was he jealous? He was the one walking around with Carrie Ann in that dress. Grace should be jealous. And why did she get the feeling that he was lying about being in Carrie Ann's apartment? Jake wasn't a liar. She couldn't let her imagination run away with her.
“We both just happened to be listening to the guitar player,” Grace said. She gestured to where the guitar player had been, just a few minutes ago. He was gone. Why, every time Grace turned around, did somebody in this city disappear?
“We ready?” Jake said. He took Grace's hand with barely a nod to Jean Sebastian and headed toward the hill leading to the museum.
“We're going to the Miró Museum,” Carrie Ann said to the newcomer. “Would you like to join us?”
Jake stopped abruptly. Grace stumbled forward. “Is she serious?” he said.
“She's like that,” Grace said. Always dragging in strays from the periphery. Like poor Stan. Although if Carrie Ann was telling the truth it wasn't “poor Stan” anymore. Either way, this poor Belgian traveler had no idea what he was getting into.
Run, Jean Sebastian, run,
Grace wanted to shout.
“I will let you on your own,” Jean Sebastian said.
“Then do give us your number,” Carrie Ann said. “We can meet later for a drink.”
“Unbelievable,” Jake said. Carrie Ann was rummaging around in her purse, presumably for pen and paper.
“We'll meet you at the entrance,” Grace said. Carrie Ann barely waved her hand.
Jean Sebastian looked at Grace and held her glance. Wow, was he attractive. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Good luck with your guitar.”
“Thank you. Good luck with your travel blog.”
I hope I never run into him again,
Grace thought to herself. She was horrified at how quickly she had lusted over a complete stranger. Lust at first sight. That was normal. She couldn't help that. But hanging around with him when she knew that's how she feltânow that would be wrong. Somehow she was going to have to get the message to Carrie Ann, without her figuring out how to use it against her, that under no circumstances was Jean Sebastian going to be tagging along.
At the top of Montjuïc, Grace and Jake were treated to a fabulous panoramic view of the city. The building housing the museum was made of smooth white stone and was done in traditional Mediterranean style. In accordance with Joan Miró's wishes, exhibits were always from a variety of contemporary artists. That was a man with a true love of art, just like Grace's philosophy of musicians embracing, encouraging, and sharing the works of others. True artists, once they reached a certain level of acclaim and satisfaction, were not solely focused on themselves; instead they welcomed and encouraged others. Grace liked Miró's whimsical works and primary colors. It was amazing what he could do playing with the basics. Like GaudÃ, Miró didn't seem to be baring his pain; he was playing; he was creating joy.
“Isn't this gorgeous?” Grace said as they stood outside taking in the view.
“Good luck with your guitar?” Jake said.
“Oh my God,” Grace said. “You are a little jealous.”
“My name is Jean Sebastian,” Jake imitated in a horrible French accent. “But you can call me Jean Sebastian.” Grace laughed. “I think your friend Carrie Ann likes to stir up trouble,” Jake said.
Grace didn't answer. What a Pandora's box her acknowledgment would open. “I still don't get why Stefano told me he saw you go into Carrie Ann's apartment,” Grace said.
“How does Stefano even know what I look like?” Jake said.
“He's been watching us come and go,” Grace said.
“Great. Stefano and Jean Sebastian. I'd better never leave your side.” Jake looped his arm around Grace's shoulder.
“Speaking of leaving my sideâwhy didn't you come back to the apartment?”
“Because you texted me and told me to meet you here instead,” Jake said.
“No, I didn't,” Grace said. “You texted me and told me to meet you here instead.”
“You're trying to make me think I'm going crazy, aren't you?” Jake said.
“Are you sure the text was from my number?”
“It's a new phone, babe. I didn't memorize your number.”
“Oh.” That made sense. They'd each bought disposables in Spain. She didn't have Jake's number memorized either. “Let's make a pact to memorize each other's number.”
“Agreed,” Jake said. Grace looked in her purse for her cell phone. She brought it out. She opened her messages and held them out to Jake. He read through them, shaking his head.
“I didn't send any of these.”
“But you responded to some,” Grace said. She showed him.
He read them aloud. “ âGot caught up. Meet you at Miró . . . Phone dying.' Oh my God. These aren't from meânone of them.”
“And you weren't in Carrie Ann's apartment?”
“Why do you keep going back to that?”
“Because if you were at Carrie Ann's apartment, then she had access to your cell phone and she could have sent the messages.”
“My phone is always in my back pocket,” Jake said.
“Wait,” Grace said. “So you were in Carrie Ann's apartment?”
Jake sighed, looked away. “Someone who has a big birthday coming up shouldn't ask too many questions.”
“Oh, God,” Grace said. “Don't tell me you're letting Carrie Ann use that as an excuse to get you in cahoots with her?”
“Cahoots?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I'm sorry, Grace. But secrets are allowed when you have a big birthday comingâ”
“Stop saying âbig.' ”
“Good-bye, youth; hello, thirties.”
“Enough.”
“Dirty thirties? I like the sound of that one.” Jake grabbed her and kissed her hard. Grace pulled back. God, she wanted him right here and right now. He wasn't usually this passionate in public. He was doing this out of jealousy. Grace could live with that. But first she had to make sure he stayed far away from Carrie Ann. She had worn that little red dress just to rile Jake up. Grace had to admit, Jake wasn't the only one who was jealous.
“Apparently I haven't done enough to convince you that you cannot trust a single thing Carrie Ann says.” Grace was suddenly furious. Here she was, extending herself to Carrie Ann again, and what was Carrie Ann doing? Luring Jake into her apartment for God knows what reason, using Grace's “birthday” as an excuse, and then getting ahold of his cell phone.
“There's no way she could have taken my phone out of my back pocket without my knowing.”
“I told you Carrie Ann used to be a magician?”
“You're saying she slipped it out of my pocket?”
“That's exactly what I'm saying.”
“Not possible.”
“She was really, really good. Even for a little kid. Incredible slight of hand.”
“No. Not a chance.”
“Was she ever standing really, really close to you?”
Jake blushed; it was all the answer Grace needed. “It's okay. She's like that.”
“Let's just say I believe you. Why would she do that? What does she have to gain?”
“I don't quite know yet.”
Tell him. Tell him who she married. Then tell him everything about the past.
“You were right. You don't owe her anything. We'll say our good-byes after the museum.” Jake sounded determined. Grace should tell him about her mistake, how she had accidentally kind of invited Carrie Ann to come to Nashville sometime. And then tell him how someone like Carrie Ann would take that to heart. “Heyâdid you talk to your mom?”
“I couldn't call from the computer. You password protected your laptop.”
“No, I didn't.”
“Well, someone did.”
“Are you serious?” Jake had graduated to angry. “Let's go,” he said. He took her hand and started to pull her away from the entrance.
“It's okay. I talked to my dad. Mom is fine. She was resting. I didn't mention you-know-who.”
“I want to go see my laptop.”
“But we're right here. You've been wanting to see this museum.”
“Well, now all I want is to get us away from your psycho friend.” As if summoned, Carrie Ann appeared at the top of the hill. Jake looked at Grace. She squeezed his hand.
“Let's just get through this,” she said. “Please?” Jake didn't look happy, but he didn't say anything to Carrie Ann, and he willingly entered the museum.
They walked through the exhibits in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. One of the first things Grace saw was a small room painted red. A grand piano sat in the center of the room. Above it was the most magnificent chandelier Grace had ever seen, hovering and glittering over the piano. Black, white, and red. The effect was arresting, almost violent in nature. The image lingered long after she moved on.
She found she loved the sculptures better than the paintings. One was of a man doing a backflip. He seemed to hover midair, and, despite staring and walking around it, Grace couldn't figure out how they were holding it up. Carrie Ann was smiling as if she knew, but Grace wasn't about to ask her. She should pull Carrie Ann aside and confront her with what Jake had told her, but Grace just didn't have an argument in her at the moment. She wanted to shut everything off. She was going to stop letting Carrie Ann kidnap them.
The roof had a garden with more Miró sculptures and a view of Barcelona. The people who lived here were so lucky to have all this in their backyard. There weren't too many places in America, if any, that had this much culture with a beach feel. The sun felt even hotter on the roof, and Grace leaned against a barrier and closed her eyes.
“Somebody has an admirer.” Grace opened her eyes. Carrie Ann stood in front of her, that smile on her face again. In her left hand she was holding a folded piece of paper.
Grace eyed the offering, but didn't take it. “What's that?”
“Jean Sebastian's phone number. He wanted me to give it to you.” Grace glanced around. “Jake's downstairs, staring at lines and circles.”
“I don't want it,” Grace said.
“You don't even want to know what he said?” Before Grace could answer, Carrie Ann opened the piece of paper and showed it to Grace.
Hola, Grace.
I'd very much like to meet again.
And, indeed, underneath he had left his phone number. Grace couldn't help but feel a tingle of flattery, and she prayed Carrie Ann didn't see the blush working its way up her face. “He's hot,” Carrie Ann said. “I flirted my ass off, but he kept asking about you.” Carrie Ann shook the piece of paper in her hand as if she were ringing a bell. “He's going to meet us for drinks and dancing tonight,” she announced.
“What?” Grace said. “No.”
“No?” Carrie Ann said. “Why not?”
“Well, just . . . I mean. Because.”
We're not going!
Tongue-tied around Carrie Ann again. Grace hated that about herself. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. “Jake has a headache,” Grace said. “I'm not sure if we'll go.”
Carrie Ann eyed her. “Did you tell him you invited me to Nashville?”
And, there it was. Proof that Carrie Ann had not only taken Grace quite literally, but here she was acting like she was going to book a seat on their flight back. “Not yet.”
“Why not? The sooner the better, don't you think?”
“Soâyou're planning on coming soon?”
“Isn't that what you meant?”
“I just . . . wanted you to know . . . you weren't alone.”
“So you didn't really mean it.”
“Of course I did. I just didn't know you were thinking about visiting so soon.”
“I can't be anywhere near Stan. And I don't want to travel Europe alone.”
“Maybe you'll meet a handsome stranger who likes to travel and run off with him,” Grace said. “Did Jean Sebastian tell you he travels for a living?”
“You want me to travel Europe with a guy who fell in love at first sight with you?”
“That's ridiculous.” Grace felt her face heat up again. Had he really said that to Carrie Ann? She was pretty sure he had to have felt the same instant attraction. Which didn't mean anything. She wasn't going to see him again. Carrie Ann could find another boy toy.
“He didn't write me a note,” Carrie Ann said. She thrust the note at Grace.
Grace looked up to see Jake approaching. “Let's talk about this later,” she said. She shoved the note back at Carrie Ann. Carrie Ann gave a knowing smile. Jake joined them, and Carrie Ann immediately looped arms with him like he was one of her many accessories. Then, as if in slow motion, the note from Jean Sebastian fluttered to the ground.
“Whoops,” Carrie Ann said. Grace lunged to pick it up, but Jake got to it first. He handed it to Carrie Ann. Carrie Ann smiled and took her sweet old time taking the note back from him. Gone were the tears, the fear of the psycho husband, the “I'm all alone” lament. Grace had a sinking feeling that she'd been played. Hook, line, and sinker. “How's the head?” Carrie Ann said to Jake as she rubbed the piece of paper between her fingers. When Jake frowned she reached up and ruffled his hair. Grace wanted to kill her. Jake raised an eyebrow and looked at Grace.
“I told her about your headache,” Grace said. “And how we might not be able to go dancing with her and Jean Sebastian tonight.”
“I'm afraid it's turning into a migraine,” Jake said. “In fact I'd like to go back to the room and lie down. Will you go with me?”
“Nonsense,” Carrie Ann said. “Don't you two know the best thing about vacationing in Europe?” She waited, but neither Grace nor Jake replied. “Foreign drugstores! Spain has some great medications. We're going to one right now, and I won't take no for an answer.”
Â
The pharmacy was in a stone building that looked like it was from the 1500s. On the outside a neon green circle with a plus sign was the only clue what the building was. Grace hated to admit it, but she agreed with Carrie Ann. It was fun to check out medications in a new country. The pharmacist handed Jake some tablets that he said would cure a migraine. Grace wondered if he had anything to cure a frenemy from the past.
Jake leaned over and whispered in Grace's ear. “As soon as we buy this, we'll say we have to go back to the apartment so I can take it.”
“Agreed.”
“Get what you needed?” Carrie Ann sailed up the aisle, her arms full of bottles. “I fucking love it. I think there's codeine in all of this.”
Grace couldn't help but laugh. Sometimes she had really missed Carrie Ann. “Don't worry. When I come to Nashville I won't take up your entire medicine cabinet,” Carrie Ann said.
“What?” Jake said. “When you what?”
“Come to Nashville,” Carrie Ann said.
“You're coming to Nashville?”
“Of course. Grace invited me.”
“We have to get back to the apartment right now,” Grace said.
“We're going out at nine o'clock,” Carrie Ann said. “I'll come by.”
“We'll let you know,” Jake said.
“Even if you're still down for the count, you're not going to keep Grace in, are you?”
“Grace always makes her own decisions.”
“Of course she does. So, Gracie, you're coming tonight, aren't you?”
Carrie Ann stared at Grace. Jake stared at Grace. She was going to have to take some of Jake's headache tablets. Grace headed for the door. “We'll let you know,” she called over her shoulder. What she hated more than anything at the moment was that she really did feel like going out, and drinking, and dancing, and just letting loose. One big dance-off, and then she and Jake could go home. The only thing she had to figure out was how to keep Carrie Ann from following her. Maybe the Jean Sebastian angle was still viable. He'd only met Grace for a few seconds. Carrie Ann was hot. A few drinks, some close dancingâthis might just solve all of Grace's problems. And all she had to do was get Jake to see it the same way.
Â
Once outside Grace started in the direction of their apartment building. She was grateful that for once Carrie Ann took a hint and let them off on their own. She was still in the drugstore trying on sunglasses. For all Grace knew she was going to try to charm the pharmacist out of the really good stuff. Suddenly, Jake grabbed her arm and swung her around. “Where do you think you're going?” Jake said. Grace stopped. Jake was smiling.
“Oh God,” she said. “I totally forgot you don't actually have a migraine.” Grace tensed, expecting Jake to confront her with inviting Carrie Ann to Nashville. Instead, he laughed and pulled out a small device, the size of an iPhone. “What's that?”
“My new video camera.”
“It's tiny.”
“It will do the trick. What do you say we stroll through the food market. Then we can go to the downtown park. The one with the fountain and the giant elephant tusks. We'll take silly videos to send to your mom.”
“Perfect.” Hand in hand they now walked in the opposite direction of the apartment. “What if we run into her?” Grace said. She really didn't want to hurt Carrie Ann's feelings again. Carrie Ann's manipulative side could be tamed with kindness, but inflamed when she felt slighted.
Jake looped his arm around Grace's shoulders and kissed her cheek. “We'll tell her she was rightâEuropean drugs work fast.”
Â
Mercat St. Joseph de la Boqueria welcomed shoppers with a triangular entrance sign made of stained glass and iron rods. The enormous food market was alive with people and produce. Pig heads. Fruits and vegetables. Seafood. One stand had jars of honey and spices, the next succulent crabs on ice, and the next colorful premade juices in tall plastic cups with long straws. You could find just about anything here, and it was where all the Catalan chefs came to buy produce, meat, or seafood for the numerous top restaurants in Barcelona. It was a parade of food, the Mardi Gras for foodies. Grace decided to keep her eyes feasted on the arrays of fruits and vegetables rather than on the animal heads, or in some cases entire bodies, glass eyes staring at you forever. Poor little piggies and goat heads, all hacked off and lying on one side, eye staring up at the rafters of the market. Grace crossed herself and murmured, “Circle of life.” Jake filmed nonstop, slowly panning his new camera over every gross item.
A case full of delicate eggs resting on straw had a sign: N
O
T
OCAR
; don't touch. Another bin had mushroom caps as big as Grace's head. And more eggs, ones that looked as if they'd been laid by a dinosaur, probably ostrich. A candy stall beckoned. Jake loved licorice. She bought a pound of it, then faced Jake.
“Carrie Ann is married to Stan Gale,” she said.
“The kid you used to bully?”
“I shouldn't have put it that way. I didn't bully him. I just didn't like him, but I still let him think he was our friend.”
“Soâwaitâdidn't she say her husband was an abusive psycho?”
“Yep.”
“This gets weirder and weirder.”
“She said she wants to get away from him. So she asked me to travel Europe with her for the next couple of monthsâ”
“No, Grace. You didn't.”
“Of course I didn't.”
Jake looked like he was about to read her the riot act. “Good. Because I could barely get you to enjoy ten days, so it would reallyâ”
“I just told you I wouldn't. You know I couldn't leave my mom for that long.”
“But you'd leave me for that long?”
“I didn't say that.” Grace heard her voice rise in frustration. Several heads turned. Great. They were becoming one of those couples who immediately unraveled while traveling together. Although she could see how easily it could happen. She was tired and stressed, and even the fun parts felt strained because of the energy you had to expend when everything was so new and exciting. Having an out-and-out brawl was almost tempting. Especially since they were in a food court. So many things to throw. There was probably a song in there somewhere:
I threw some grapes in Spain because my man was a pain. . . .
“Really?” Jake said. “Now?”
“Shit.” She couldn't believe it was that obvious when she was mentally composing. How could she possibly leave any mystery in the relationship when he knew her inside and out? “I'm just trying to explain why I told Carrie Ann that she could visit us in Nashville.”
“I think I have officially talked myself into a migraine,” Jake said. He rattled the pills in his bag. “I'm actually going to go home, take these, and lie down.” He started to walk away.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I just didn't want to see her cry.”
“I didn't even bring it up, Grace,” Jake said as he walked. “Because I wanted one minute where we actually felt like we were on vacation again.”
“Okay, okay. I do too. But I also don't want us to hold things in.” Jake stopped abruptly, and Grace almost barreled into him.
“Now that's rich,” he said. His face was set in anger. Grace really hated herself for thinking it, but he was so damn sexy when he was angry.
“We were in the cab, and she said she had no one, and she started cryingâ”
“Crocodile tears no doubt,” Jake said.
“How can you say that?” Jake started walking again. Grace had to speed up to keep pace with him. He knew she hated when he did this. She was five foot four; he was six foot two. Even his leisurely pace seemed like speed walking compared to hers. “You don't even know her.”
Jake turned and waited for her to meet his eyes. “Exactly,” he said. He was calm again. Calm and reasonable. If she wasn't careful it was going to make her furious. “This girl shows up after fifteen years. A girl you didn't even tell me about.”
“We're back to this?” They were outside now, past the arch. They stopped underneath a tree.
“Yes, we're back to this. Think about it, Grace. What does that say about her that you wanted to pretend she didn't even exist?”
“I never forgot she existed,” Grace said quietly. But she had tried.
“I no longer even want to know what happened back then. Believe me. Now that I've had a dose of her, I know it can't be good.”
Without speaking they headed down La Rambla. The street performers were back in force. Grace wanted this to be a happy moment, when she and Jake could share in the wonder and discuss each one of them. Instead he walked straight ahead as if he saw nothing but red. The minute Grace had seen SBC on the invitation, she should have booked the next flight home.
“Jake, are you going to stop?” She had to say it again, but Jake finally stopped. “Thank you.” So much for telling him everything right now. And this probably wasn't the time to point out that he was the one who had invited Carrie Ann to the Sagrada FamÃlia. He was right. They needed to get back to having a proper holiday. “Why don't we shoot some video at the park like you said?”
“So where are we leaving this? Is she coming to Nashville with us?”
“I'm working on that. Right now she doesn't want to be alone. But she's also the type of woman who always has to have a man. I thought maybe we should let Jean Sebastian come dancing tonight.”
“No. Definitely not.”
“He travels for a living, Jake.”
“Good for him.”
“If he and Carrie Ann hit it off, they might just ride off into the sunset together.”
“And if they don't?”
“Look. She was family. Once. What if I tell her I didn't mean it and something horrible happens? I don't think I could live with that.” Not again. Once was certainly enough for a lifetime.
“You're going to have to tell your parents.”
“I realize this.” Jake looked off into the distance. “Are you mad at me?”
Jake looked at her. It only took a few seconds for his face to soften. He shook his head and then pulled her in to him and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head. “You have a big heart; I have a big penis. Neither of us can help that.”