When in Rio (32 page)

Jack just stared at me, his eyes narrowing in concentration a moment and then widening as if he’d just understood something vital. “But…wait. You thought that whole time after you left, I was talking to
Marisa
before I came back to the guesthouse? That I was still interested in her, but then I came in and…oh
God
. And you thought what, that I wanted to be with her and I was taking my frustration out on you? You think I would
do
something like that?”

For a second it sounded as though he was going to try to pull off righteous indignation, but then his voice seemed to crumble. “Oh hell—of
course
you thought that.
Shit
.” When I looked over, confused, he was rubbing his hands over his face, his head thrown back against the headrest. While I watched, he banged it there a few times, softly, as if trying to jostle the contents of his mind into some better order.

“Katie,” he finally went on, “I was up all that time drinking with
Mario
. Okay? Marisa never came back either after you left. She went to check on the boys and just stayed away. I stayed and got drunk with Mario because I can’t match drinks with him, I never could, and I always forget that. There’s a reason I live on another continent and only see the guy every couple years, my constitution can only take so much food and liquor. But Katie, the thing with Marisa is what’s been bothering him. Remember I said I thought there was something? I actually wanted to leave when she showed up, just pack up you and all our stuff and hightail it back to the hotel for the night.

“Seriously, if I feel anything for that woman now it’s the creeps, the way she latches on like a leech. I’ve only seen her a few times since back then, and it’s been like this every time. Another reason I don’t visit Mario that often, I guess, although I hate to admit it. Man,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “There were so many times yesterday when I just wanted to say, ‘Hey, since Katie
only speaks English
, let’s
all
speak English, okay?’ I wouldn’t have said that—ever, of course. She would’ve had a major tantrum. I would’ve sooner just left. Although I think Marta actually did say it at one point and Marisa just ignored her. But the thing is, I couldn’t just leave until I’d given Mario some kind of support, honey. The guy is devastated about this. This is his little sister, and in their family divorce is still a
huge
deal.”

As he spoke, I felt myself break into a blush so forceful it seemed to trigger a cold sweat as the events of the last couple days began to replay themselves in this new light, with the sudden knowledge that he was speaking only the truth, which meant what had been torturing me wasn’t Jack’s faithlessness but my own stupid insecurities. I clung to the door handle, a little faint, and hoped Jack wouldn’t notice. He didn’t seem to, just kept on talking as though it were a huge relief to get all this off his chest.

“Not to mention the financial implications, because she married into a family with about as much money as Mario’s. They’re looking at years of dealing with this, if it happens. It’s going to be a nightmare. And what’s more, he likes his brother-in-law, he wants her to go back to him. He knows that Marisa is the problem, not Eduardo. Because she’s always just…had issues. She’s
made
of issues, she thrives on drama. Mario’s starting to think there’s actually something genuinely wrong with her, something she isn’t just going to grow out of. Seeing as she’s almost forty, of course, it’s probably about time he figured that out. Marta’s been trying to tell him for years. But Marisa just pushes Mario’s buttons, she always has, he’s terrible at dealing with her. And we all know that I was fairly good at dealing with her at one point. Or at least as good as anyone ever was.”

Sighing, Jack faced me again, his eyes dark with hurt. “But do you know, in three hours of sitting there and drinking ourselves shit-faced—and yeah, I was pretty drunk when I came back, and I can’t apologize enough for that because obviously… Anyway, in all that time, never once,
not once
, did Mario suggest that he wished things had gone differently between Marisa and me, or that he wished we could get back together. Nothing like that. And do you know
why
, Kate?”

I shook my head, afraid that if I spoke I’d start crying.
Knowing
that if I spoke I’d start crying.

“Because he’d met you,” Jack said simply. “He thinks you’re…he’s coming out to visit in a few weeks, you know, he says to do business and see my house, but I think it’s really to see
you
in my house, because he wants to make sure you
are
in my house. He wants to make sure I don’t screw this up. He’s my best friend, Kate. Still. He knows me better than just about anybody outside my own family, and he only had to meet you once to know that this is
it
for me. Don’t you get that yet? This is it. This is real. I am
keeping
you, Kate.”

I wasn’t sure when he’d taken his seat belt off or when he’d taken my hands, just that suddenly he was so close to me I couldn’t breathe, much less process what he was saying. It was too much like a dream I’d never been brave enough to have.

“I
love
you, all right?” He said it almost as though he was scolding me for not having understood this, and then I did start to cry, and responded out of habit.

“Yes Sir.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, startled, and just looked at me for a second. And then the laugh started, spreading infectiously from his eyes to my heart, and for the next few minutes there was only laughing and crying and telling him I loved him too, and kissing again and again as if there could only ever be kissing, there in the parking lot outside the ugly strip mall that would forever afterward hold a very fond place in my heart. When we finally came up for air I was in Jack’s lap, straddling him, my hair stuck in our drying tears as we pulled reluctantly away from one another.

“I’m so sorry—” I started to say.

“No,” he stopped me, fingers gentle against my lips. “No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I realize now, I was taking it for granted that you knew I didn’t have any interest in… I mean
any
interest in her anymore,
none
. I can only look back at yesterday now and what you must have thought from how she was acting. Jesus. I’m so sorry. I just thought…this week, I don’t know. I knew you were upset before dinner, but I just thought it was the whole thing, the whole week and having to go back home and everything. I was too distracted by the whole damn drama or I would have realized.

“And afterward…you know, I think the last time I was that drunk must have been about fifteen years ago. It kind of caught me off guard. And of course you had no way to know Marisa had gone to bed, and from what you’d seen earlier… Katie, I couldn’t just push her away or make a scene in front of her kids or Mario’s kids, even if it was what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to embarrass them or her. Or abandon Mario with her, because he just gets nuts when she won’t listen to reason for hours on end. But I should have made sure you knew all that. I should have
talked
to you when I came back. I meant to talk, actually, but you were just so beautiful lying there in the moonlight, and when I got into bed somehow that t-shirt was even sexier than if you’d been lying there naked. And anyway, you have this
effect
on me, you know? Like right now, actually.”

A slight shift in my position brought me into contact with the stiff lump of his erection, straining against his jeans.

“Oops. Sorry.” But truthfully I didn’t feel all that sorry. I tried to clamber off him but he was holding my hips firmly, keeping me in his lap.

“No, stay. I’m afraid to leave. This parking lot is magical.”

I looked out the window at the harsh blue halogen lighting, the wide expanse of concrete and asphalt, the mega-chain storefronts that were repeated every few miles down this particular stretch of road. “It is magical, isn’t it?” Taking a deep breath and giving myself over to the future, I plunged bravely ahead. “But it’s all right. Because anytime we need to drop off dry cleaning, buy some computer stuff, find a book, get a
chewie
toy for Rufus and finish with a frozen yogurt and then a nice cappuccino, all in one trip, we’ll know right where to come.”

Jack’s kiss was fierce enough to push me right back against the steering wheel, and the lout blat of the horn made us jump apart then burst into renewed peals of laughter when we realized what had happened. Reluctantly he helped me slide off his lap and back into my seat, admonishing me to buckle up before he started the engine.

“Okay, little Katie,” he said as he revved up, flashing me a cheeky grin with what seemed like an extra dose of baby-blue brilliance to top it off. “Let’s go home.”

They were the second-best three words I’d ever heard.

Also by
Delphine
Dryden

Snow Job

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