‘In a storm, with a five-year-old in the back of her car,’ Estelle pointed out.
‘I thought she was trying to kill me.’
‘She was ill, Raúl.’
He nodded. ‘It would have been nice to know that she was,’ Raúl said. ‘It would have been nice to know that it was not my words that had her fleeing into the night.’
‘It sounds as though she was sick for a long time, and I would imagine it was a very tough time for your father…’ Estelle did not want involvement. She wanted to remove herself as much as she could before she told him. Yet she could not sit back and watch his pain. ‘He just wants to know you’re happy, that you’re settled. He just wants peace.’
‘We all want peace.’ He was a moment away from telling her the rest, but instead he stood and headed through the balcony door. ‘I’m going out.’
Estelle sat still.
‘Don’t wait up.’
‘I won’t.’
She didn’t want him going out in this mood, and she followed him into the lounge while knowing he wouldn’t welcome her advice. ‘Raúl, I don’t think—’
‘I don’t pay you to think.’
‘You’re upset.’
‘Now she tells me what I’m feeling!’
‘Now she reminds you that she read that contract before she signed it. If you think you’re going to go out clubbing and carrying on in your usual way I’ll be on the next plane home…’ she watched his shoulders stiffen ‘…with every last cent you agreed to pay me.’
He headed for the door.
‘Hope the music’s loud enough for you, Raúl!’ she called out to him.
‘It could never be loud enough.’
There was a crack from the storm and the balcony doors flew wide open. He turned then, and she glimpsed hell in his eyes. There was more than he was telling her, she knew that, and yet she did not need to know at this moment.
He was striding towards her and she understood for a moment his need for constant distraction, for she was craving distraction now. She was pregnant by the man she loved, who was incapable of loving her. How badly she didn’t want to think about it. How nice it would be for a moment to forget.
His mouth was, perhaps for the last time, welcome. The crush of his lips was so fierce he might have drawn blood. Yet it was still not enough. He wrestled her to the floor and it was still too slow.
Here beneath him there were no problems—just the weight of him on her.
He was pulling at his zipper and pressing up her skirt. She was kissing him as if his lips could save them both. The balcony doors were still wide open. It was raining on the inside, raining on them, yet it did not douse them.
He had taught her so much about her body, but she learned something new now—how fast her arousal could be.
He was coming even before he was inside her; she could feel the hot splash on her sex. Estelle was sobbing as he thrust inside her, holding onto him for dear life. Each thrust of his hips met with her own desperation. It was fast and it was brutal, and yet it was the closest they had ever been.
He was at her ear and breathing hard when he lifted his face. She opened her eyes to a different man.
‘Come with me to see them?’
He was asking, not telling.
‘Yes.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
It felt terribly close to love.
THEY FLEW EARLY the next morning, over the lush hills of Spain to the north, and even as his jet made light work of the miles there was a mounting tension. Had they run out of time?
Far from anger from Raúl, there was relief when Angela came out of the door to greet them, a wary smile on her face.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Welcome.’
She gave Estelle a kiss on the cheek, and gave one too to Raúl. ‘We can do this,’ she said to him, even as he pulled back. ‘For your father. For one day…’
Raúl nodded and they headed through to the lounge.
If Estelle was shocked at the change in his father, it must be hell for Raúl.
‘Hey,’ he greeted his son. ‘You took your time.’
‘I’m here now,’ Raúl said. ‘Congratulations on your wedding.’ He handed Antonio a bottle of champagne as he kissed him on the cheek. ‘I thought we could have a toast to you both later.’
‘I finally make an honest woman of her,’ Antonio said.
Estelle watched as Raúl bit back a smart response. There really was no time for barbs.
‘Your brother is flying in from Bilbao tonight. Will you stay for dinner?’ Antonio’s eyes held a challenge.
‘I’m not sure that we can stay…’
‘A meeting between the two of you is inevitable,’ Antonio said. ‘Unless you boycott my funeral. I am to be buried here,’ he added.
She watched Raúl’s jaw tighten as he told his son that this was the home he loved. Yet he had denied his first son the chance of having a real home.
‘I will make a drink,’ Angela said to Estelle. ‘Perhaps you could help me?’
Estelle went into the kitchen with her. It was large and homely, and even though she was hoping to keep things calm for Raúl, Estelle was angry on his behalf.
‘We will leave them to it,’ Angela said as Estelle sat at the table. ‘You look tired.’
‘Raúl doesn’t live a very quiet life.’
‘I know.’ Angela smiled and handed her a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of croissants.
Estelle took a sip of her chocolate, but it was far too sickly and she put the cup back down.
‘I can make you honey tea,’ Angela offered. ‘That is what I had when…’ Her voice trailed off as she saw the panic in Estelle’s eyes and realised she must not want anyone to know yet. To Angela it was obvious—she hadn’t seen Estelle since her wedding day, and despite the suntan her face was pale, and there were subtle changes that only a woman might notice. ‘Perhaps your stomach is upset from flying.’
‘I’m fine,’ Estelle said, deliberately taking another sip.
‘I am worried that when Antonio dies I will see no more of Raúl…’
Estelle bit her lip. Frankly she wouldn’t blame him. Because being here, seeing first-hand evidence of years of lies and deceit, she understood a little better the darkness of his pain.
‘He is like a son to me.’
Estelle simply couldn’t stay quiet. ‘From a distance?’ She repeated Angela’s own words from the wedding day and then looked around. There were pictures of Luka, who looked like a younger Raúl.
‘Raúl is here too.’ Angela pointed to a photo.
‘He wasn’t, though.’ Estelle could not stand the pretence. ‘You had a home here—whereas Raúl was being shuffled between his aunt and uncle, occasionally seeing his dad.’
‘It was more complicated than that.’
‘Not