by Sparks, Ana
I got home by myself—since the cops had taken Francisco, again—and went right to the bathroom, where I started running a bath. This was terrible. This was the worst thing I could have imagined.
And the problem was, it wasn’t my imagination. It had actually happened.
I got to the tub—which was too small to be comfortable, but the best comfort I had right now—and hit the faucet, turning it all the way to hot to make sure the bath was as warm as possible.
The chances of getting actual hot water was slim. Not in this building. But I could always hope.
I dumped about half a bottle of bubble bath into the water, then spun and went to the kitchen in search of a drink. God, what I wouldn’t have given for some real live alcohol.
Unfortunately, I was pregnant. So I would have to settle for the strongest thing I had in the fridge, which was seltzer water. I grabbed the bottle and got myself back into the bathroom, my mind already spinning through the things that had happened today.
The zoo. The butterflies, and Francisco’s ridiculous behavior about the colorful bugs. That stupid dance he’d been doing as he tried so desperately to avoid them. I grinned a bit at the memory as I stripped out of my clothes, unable to stop myself, and remembered that I had a video of that very thing on my phone.
I remembered the way I’d felt after we left the butterfly encounter, like I was drifting on the clouds with pure joy. I remembered realizing how much I loved the man.
And then I remembered the sight of the cops sprinting toward us.
I slipped into the water—nearly hot, I noted—and sat back against the end of the tub, my legs bent at the knees in order to fit my entire body in the small space. And then I took a sip of seltzer water, closed my eyes, and tried to get my brain to function.
When they’d been handcuffing him, the cops had said something about how Francisco wasn’t supposed to be in the country. And I’d looked at his face and seen him staring at me with so much anguish that I was surprised he’d still been standing.
He’d done everything he could not to get caught. And it had bought us two days and nights. And that, I supposed, was the best I could have asked for when I was dating a man who was basically an international outlaw.
“Figures,” I breathed.
It was just how my luck went. I’d found the perfect guy, a perfect mix of sweet and bad boy, and it turned out that he was not only a prince from another country, but also one who came packing a reputation so infamous that my own country had barred him, more or less. And, as if that wasn’t good enough, his own brother insisted on sending the cops after him at every turn.
That was, I assumed, what this had been, as well. I knew he’d left Tarana without telling his brother. The king must have discovered Francisco missing and sent out an immediate message to the international community. Hell, for all I knew, Francisco had actually told the brother about me, so the brother had known exactly where to find him.
And now what?
Because this weekend had been one long, hazy dream, and I’d had my brain turned off for most of it. I’d let my body rule the days and nights, telling me what it wanted, and had given my heart free rein to act on its own, with no one but Francisco to guide it.
Now, though, I had to actually get my brain to kick in. Because this weekend, and all that time with my heart and body in control, had taught me something very, very important.
I was in love with Francisco. I was having a baby with him… and I didn’t want to imagine life without him. I wanted him at my side, at all times.
The problem was, he wasn’t going to be allowed to stay in this country.
So what was I going to do about it?
* * *
The next morning, I got out of bed bright and early, having barely slept, and headed for the police department, where I hoped they’d still be holding Francisco. I’d called last night to see whether I could get in to see him, but by the time I did that, it had been too late and visiting hours had been restricted to immediate family.
I’d been assured, though, that I could stop by first thing this morning. They’d refrained from telling me, of course, whether Francisco would still be there or not.
So I jumped into a cab and gave the driver the address of the police department with a pounding heart and an equally aching head. I’d called the information line again this morning and had made zero progress with finding out about Francisco.
I wasn’t a member of his direct family, they’d said. They couldn’t give me any information without his permission.
“Then go ask him if you can tell me,” I’d said sharply. “He’ll tell you himself that I’m allowed to know.”
“I’m sorry, miss, but we can’t do that. You’ll have to come down here and fill out the appropriate forms,” the woman had said.
And then she’d hung up on me.
So I was going to the police department without any idea of whether Francisco was still there… or if he had been deported on the same day, like he had last time.
And for the love of deep-dish pizza, when the hell had my life become this complicated? I was visiting jail to try to find the father of my baby!
It was so ridiculous that I almost laughed at it. This wasn’t who I was. It wasn’t who I’d ever been. I never would have imagined that I’d be living in a storyline like this.
But would I have given it up? Would I have erased Francisco from my life, in order to get it back in a straight line?
Not a chance in hell.
* * *
I went barreling through the doors and into the reception area, and then I pulled up short and tried to get myself under control. I had to be professional here. I was an educated woman. I was smart.
I was strong.
And I needed to act like it.
I walked up to the receptionist’s desk and, keeping my voice as steady as I could, said, “Excuse me, I’m here to visit Francisco de la Laros. He was brought in yesterday on an international warrant. I assume you have some paperwork I have to sign before I’m allowed visitation.”
The woman—who looked to be about my age—narrowed her eyes as she looked me up and down with enough intensity to make me happy I’d chosen to wear the jeans that fit best and my cleanest white button-up shirt.
I lifted my chin and stood up a bit straighter, daring her with my eyes to say anything about anything.
“I need your ID and an explanation of how you’re related to the man,” she said sharply.
Well, if she was asking, I assumed that meant he was still here. Thank God. The tension I’d been carrying somewhere in my shoulders relaxed a bit at that news, and I let out a breath.
That didn’t mean I was going to let this receptionist push me around.
I slapped my ID down, told her I was Francisco’s pregnant girlfriend, and said that I needed to see him immediately, if she could please hurry it up.
* * *
Ten minutes later, I was walking into a small room and finding Francisco sitting there, waiting for me.
I flew toward him, too relieved to see him still here to stop myself, and he caught me when I threw myself at him, his arms coming around me and pulling me roughly against his body.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he breathed in my ear. “I never meant for him to find me so quickly. Although…” He pulled back and gave me a wry grin. “I suppose I should be surprised that it took him as long as it did.”
I returned the grin, mine as wry as his. “At least they didn’t bang down my door this time. But what are we going to do? What’s the plan?”
Because I didn’t want him leaving without a specific plan, this time.
I was in love with this man, and I wanted to know how and when I was going to see him again—preferably, on a more permanent basis. Maybe even for a full week at a time.
Chapter 23
Francisco
The flight home was quite possibly the most terrible thing I’d ever experienced, and I say that as someone who has been
locked up in some of the dirtiest jail cells in a dozen countries.
For starters, I wasn’t put on a private—or even commercial—flight back to Tarana. Instead, I was shuffled onto a military flight, and though I didn’t know the exact reason for that, I thought it was probably a lot to do with the fact that I’d actually snuck into the US this time rather than coming legally.
I also knew exactly how they’d found me. Because I’d asked the cop on the way to the station.
“Your brother,” he said simply. “He apparently knows you well enough to be able to say why you’d risk breaking so many international laws to come back to Chicago. He figured it was a girl. And he figured it was the girl you’d been with when you were here before. Which gave him the address. We’ve been watching the apartment all weekend, but haven’t seen you. Until this morning.”
Until the morning. When Erika decided that we absolutely had to go to the zoo because I’d never been to one before. She’d thought we needed to get out of the apartment and actually see Chicago, as long as I was there. And she’d been tired, she said, of takeout. She’d wanted fresh air and sunshine.
And I’d agreed with her. I’d wanted to get out on the streets of Chicago again, and I’d wanted to do it before anything went sideways on me. I’d thought there was a chance that Javier would find me sooner rather than later, but I’d also thought that I would have more time. I’d thought Erika and I would be able to talk more, and that we’d get a chance to go see her parents and give them the news that they were going to have a grandchild.
I’d thought we would get at least one day out and about together.
But I had never, not for one single moment, thought about the fact that they’d caught me at Erika’s apartment once before, and that Javier would have had that in his report—and told them to watch that apartment for me, once he realized I was missing. No, I hadn’t told him about Erika, or how I felt about her. I certainly hadn’t left him a note telling him that I was coming back to her.
But if they’d caught me there once, it made sense for them to watch that apartment again in the future. I just hadn’t even considered it.
What a fool I’d been.
I turned my face to the front of the military plane and shifted around, trying to find a more comfortable position in the odd seat I’d been given. This plane didn’t have their seats facing forward, but lining the walls and facing the center of the plane instead. They also hadn’t built these seats for comfort—or for sleeping.
And those were only two of the things that made this trip so uncomfortable. Also on the list: The lack of an airtight cabin, which meant there was a constant gale flowing through the area. The lack of any in-flight service, which meant I was starving. And did I mention the seats? The fact that they didn’t even lean back?
At one point, I’d actually unbuckled my seatbelt and spread out across the three seats next to me, so desperate for sleep that I couldn’t stop myself. I’d barely put my head down before someone came to tell me I had to sit back up again and buckle my seatbelt.
So, by the time we landed in Tarana nine hours later, I was both exhausted and annoyed. Also, cold and starving. And I was definitely not in any mood to talk to the brother who had caused it all.
I was, therefore, extremely disappointed when I walked off the plane to find Javier himself standing on the tarmac, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes hidden by sunglasses.
“Shit,” I breathed to myself, mind flying through a list of excuses I could possibly use to get him off my back.
Look, I loved my brother, though we had our difficulties. But there were times when I really wished he didn’t feel so comfortable with intervening in my life.
“Brother,” I said, walking up to him and drawing to a stop. I was a bit taller than him, so I could look down on him a bit. It was something I’d used to my advantage when we were younger.
Looking down on him now, though, I could see that my height advantage wasn’t going to help me today.
Javier was deadly serious. Furious, unless I missed my mark.
“You disobeyed me,” he said quietly. “I asked you not to leave the country.”
I shrugged. “And the last time I checked, you hadn’t actually been promoted to being my father. So you don’t get to order me around.”
“I am also your king,” he said, his voice two stones grinding against each other with his frustration. “I am the leader of your country. One would think that you’d respect that, at least a little bit.”
“One would only think that if one didn’t know me very well,” I returned.
Javier sighed, but I could see the ice over his face starting to melt. He was, after all, my big brother. He knew me better than nearly anyone else. He, of all people, should have known that I wouldn’t just sit still and wait around, simply because he’d told me to. Especially when he wanted me to sit still and wait so that I could be married off to a stranger.
“You put yourself in danger,” he said quietly. “And though you might not respect me or my words—”
“I didn’t say I didn’t respect you,” I interrupted.
He put up a hand to silence me. “Though you might not respect me when I say that you should stay home,” he clarified, “you might respect the fact that it’s dangerous for you to travel right now. At some point, Francisco, you’re going to get yourself into a situation that I can’t get you out of. You’re going to find yourself in a spot that I can’t fix for you.”
“A spot like Chicago, where I was quite happy and safe, and where I would have very happily spent the next month?” I asked sharply. “I was fine, Javier. I was in jail only because you put me there!”
“I didn’t ask them to arrest you,” he snarled back. “I simply asked them to send you home.”
“Why?” I shouted, my frustration finally reaching boiling point. “Why would you need me back here? You’re doing just fine on your own! I’m a spare, an extra! No one in this country has ever cared about me. Why do you think I insist on traveling so much? Why do you think I go out of my way to go make friends in other countries? I was happy in Chicago, and yet you dragged me home. For what? What is so important here that you needed me so desperately?”
When I stopped talking, chest heaving, he just stared at me for a long moment, his brows coming together in confusion.
“You think that no one cares about you here? You think that no one needs you in this country? Is that what you actually think?”
I stepped closer to him and leaned down a bit. “No one has ever proved otherwise,” I whispered. “I have no responsibilities here. I have no position. So why the hell would I want to come back?”
“Because I want you here,” he whispered. “Because I need you at my side.”
Well. I hadn’t been expecting that.
“But I also need you to settle down,” he clarified. “I need you to grow up, Francisco. If I’m going to hand you any responsibility, if I’m going to make you part of ruling this country, I need you to grow up and act like an adult. I wasn’t kidding about you finding a wife. Or me finding one for you.”
Ah. In that moment, I saw the ax that had been hanging over my head reappear. And it was even sharper than it had been—because now I knew that I had something more to lose than just my freedom.
“You’re still set on me being married,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
He took a step backward. “I am. And that’s nonnegotiable.”
Right. Well then, here I went.
“And what if I told you that I’ve found the girl I want to marry?” I asked. “I’ve found the girl I love, and she’s pregnant, and I will have a family. I will settle down. But I’ll do it my way.”
Javier narrowed his eyes. “I would say that you’re pulling my leg just to get me to back off on the marriage issue, frankly. I wouldn’t believe a word of it.”
I just smiled at him. “Then I guess I’ll have to prove you wrong.”
I picked up my bag and brushed
past him, not waiting for his response. Because he didn’t believe me, and that was fine. It meant he wasn’t going to help—but also that he wasn’t going to get in the way. I hoped. Because I had a girl to go get. And this time, for the second time in my life, I was positive that my path forward was the right one.
But Javier, it seemed, wasn’t finished with me yet.
“What makes you think she’ll agree to any of that?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for me to hear it over the still-running engine of the plane.
I turned around and gave him a grin that I could feel was taunting.
“She loves me. I was with her when the cops pulled me out of the US. I was talking with her about how we were going to make a life together. You might not believe she exists. You might not believe that we love each other. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
I turned and walked away, wondering how quickly I could find Isabelle—and how quickly she could arrange for Erika to get on a plane to Tarana.
Chapter 24
Erika
The next morning, I got up as early as I could—which was surprisingly early, considering I hadn’t been working nights since last week—and admired the view of the sunrise from the windows in my apartment.
It was something I’d seen more of over the last three days than I had in the last year, and I was becoming more and more convinced that I had to find a way to get myself back to what I now thought of as normal-people time, just to be able to enjoy the sunrise from a civilized position rather than on the walk home from the bar, covered in booze and exhausted from another night of slinging drinks and supporting people on their way to the bathroom.
Looking out at the sunrise with a cup of coffee in my hand (decaf, due to the new bun in the oven) was absolute heaven.
Of course in Heaven, it’s a bigger window than mine. In a larger apartment—or even a house. With a better view that doesn’t include other buildings getting in the way of that sunrise. But my point stands. Sunrise with coffee is about the best view around.