Chapter 2
“Are you okay, Donna? You seem a bit … strange?” José asked, genuine concern in his voice.
“I’m fine,” she replied, pasting on a smile and hoping he’d believe her.
Donna had been using that phrase a lot in the last 48 hours since arriving in the little Spanish seaside town where José had grown up.
She was now sitting out on the balcony in José’s family’s villa, her swollen leg bandaged and raised up on a chair.
They both looked out to the crystal clear sea below them, sitting in silence for a few minutes.
“Are you angry I didn’t tell you about the engagement?” he asked, finally breaking the quiet.
“No, why would I be angry about that?” Donna shook her head furiously, her chic red hair bobbing up and down on her freckled forehead.
“Donna, you were … if I hadn’t met you in America, I don’t think I would have gotten through college. You were my best mate, my language coach, my life raft, and my favorite study buddy.”
Donna flinched. “Your language coach and study buddy?”
“Of course! Well … and my best friend. And I want you to be part of this now. I didn’t want to get married without you.”
“That’s very sweet.” The sardonic twang to her tone went unnoticed by the foreign ear.
José continued on with his speech about their friendship, his long limbs moving in elegant, dramatic lines, as if he were on a stage. It was hard to stay mad at someone who looked so ridiculous and yet so passionate.
She remembered meeting him their first year of college. She remembered how he had approached her first, that cheeky grin on his handsome face, totally oblivious to the looks he was getting from the other female students as he gave all his attention to her, the shy, four-eyed nerd with carrot red hair. She remembered the shock and gratitude she’d felt at his friendliness, the way he had made her feel easy from the very first day.
Shaking her head, she finally clued back into what he was saying. “… So you see, we only have six weeks to arrange everything.”
“Hang on. You’re saying that you’re getting married this summer? That soon?” Her hands squeezed the sides of the deck chair.
“Well, it’s not so soon. We were childhood sweethearts; our families have known each other for generations. Maria wouldn’t say it’s soon at all. She’s been waiting for me to propose for years,” he said with a chuckle.
Donna swallowed hard, taking in the new information. Three years in America and he had never had a girlfriend—now she knew why. He’d flirted a lot, his thick Spanish accent melting the heart of every girl he encountered, but not with any real intent. Donna had childishly believed it’d had something to do with her, that their feelings for each other had stopped him from making any real moves on anyone else.
“There are so many preparations, so much to do, and, what I’m trying to say is …” And at this point, unaware of the cruelty of the gesture, clearly having been oblivious to Donna’s feelings all these years, he got down on both knees and held both her hands tightly. She inhaled sharply, having no idea what to expect. But she wouldn’t have been able to guess in a million years the words that came out of his mouth.
“I want you to be my best man.”
Chapter 3
A few days later Donna found herself alone in the villa. It was a large house, big enough for José’s large family—his parents and grandparents, his three sisters, and their big white fluffy dog, Barney, who spent most of his time snoozing in front of the air conditioner to get away from the hot Spanish climate.
Today it was just Donna and Barney in the house. The family had gone to one of many extended family barbecues on the beach, but she’d opted to stay home. Feeling overwhelmed by having already met so many new people, on top of still being jet-lagged, she’d been glad for the excuse to be left to her own devices for the day.
Walking barefoot along the white sand, Donna felt her phone buzz from inside her pocket.
She looked down at the caller ID and screwed up her nose. She let it ring a couple more times before reluctantly answering.
“Hi Mom.”
“Honey, I haven’t heard from you since you got off the plane,” her mother reprimanded.
“I texted you when I landed.”
“Yes, but I thought you’d call. Anyway, how are you? How is Spain?”
“Spain is good. It’s sunny here and beautiful. I’ve already been swimming twice.”
“In the sea?” she asked, sounding excited for her daughter and maybe a bit envious.
“In the sea.”
“Oh wow, and how is José? So pleased to see you, I’m sure! Have you told him how you feel yet?”
“Mom, no,” she cringed, thinking about the big plan she’d formulated with her mom and her girlfriends before getting on the plane to see José.
“You think it’s better to wait until he says it to you first?”
“Mom, no … José and I—we’re just going to stay friends. We are just friends.”
“Just friends? Come on, hon. The two of you were basically inseparable for all of college. The whole time you were home you were just pining and pining … I couldn’t handle it anymore! All that moping—that’s why I told you to go over there. So you two could get it together at last. You know, I know your generation is different, and I guess I grew up in the sixties and it was different back then—anything went—not like the prudes of today.”
If Donna had to listen to her mom’s rambling for even a second longer, she knew she’d end up screaming. “Mom! M—stop already!” she interrupted. “José is getting married.”
“That’s wonderful! A bit quick I’d say, but wow! Engaged to your first boyfriend! I guess that’s romantic,” her mom continued on, totally oblivious to Donna’s distress.
“Not to me, Mom. He’s engaged to someone else. To another girl.”
The line went silent. Donna noticed her feet getting wet as the tide kissed her toes.
She looked around. She had been walking without paying attention to where she was going, too absorbed in her conversation. She could no longer see the villa from where she stood.
She looked around at the seafront dotted with little cafés with orange sun umbrellas outside. Tourists were sipping large glasses of pink sangria, looking like they didn’t have a care in the world.
She would have a large jug herself when she was off the phone.
“Mom? Are you still there?”
“Oh Donna, I’m sorry. My poor baby … out there on your own—”
“I’m not on my own,” Donna interrupted, not being able to stand the pitying tone she heard. She knew her mom meant well, but she was already feeling sorry enough for herself; she didn’t her mom throwing her a pity party too. “I’m with José’s family.”
“So are you coming home early?”
“No, I can’t come home yet,” Donna cringed again, knowing the pity party was just getting started.
“Why not?”
“Well … José has asked me to be his best man,” she answered on a deep breath.
Another silence.
“And what did you tell him?” She sounded disbelieving, which was a nice change from the pity.
“I agreed.”
“You what?!” Her mother’s voice became louder and more intense, and Donna knew it was time to end the call before things got even worse.
“Mom, my phone’s about to die so I’ll have to call you back later. Love you … bye …”
Donna hung up the phone, glad to get out of what she was sure was going to be a long, intense conversation. That could wait until she got back home, hopefully.
She looked across the beach, back at the cafés, trying to find a spare umbrella to sit under. She hobbled over and ordered a large jug of sangria, the fruit bobbing on the surface looking fresh and delicious.
Shaking her head to try to clear it of the conversation she’d just had with her mother, she tried to look on the posi
tive side of things. So, you just had your heart broken, she thought. You’re hardly the first woman that’s ever happened to—at least you’re in Spain, surrounded by sunshine and delicious food and drinks.
Firming her shoulders at her little pep talk and determined to still make the most of her trip, she ordered a round of tapas. When the Spanish tortilla came out hot from the oven, dripping with olive oil, and a plate of fresh olives, she nearly started drooling. Who needs a man when you’ve got good Spanish cuisine?
As the sun got low in the sky and the last dregs of sangria finally vanished, Donna decided it was time to leave.
“La cuenta, por favor?” She asked for the bill in shaky, textbook Spanish.
She looked around at the sunbathers packing up, finally losing the battle against the shade. She sighed enviously, knowing sunbathing wasn’t going to be on her itinerary. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one of those women who could get a glowing tan—her skin was pale and turned a ferocious red at the slightest bit of sunshine.
The waitress dropped the bill off at Donna’s table as she walked by, moving on to help another customer. Donna fished around in her pocket for her wallet. It wasn’t in the left one, where she was sure she’d put it before leaving the villa. She looked in her right one, too, and … nothing.
She checked both again, a little more panicked this time. Still, it was nowhere to be found.
She had left the house with it; she was certain.
She quickly walked out onto the beach where she’d been standing when she’d ended her phone call, checking to see if she’d dropped it. It wasn’t there either.
She headed back to the café and looked at the bill in dismay.
The young waitress came back, expecting money to be on the table.
“Hola. Mi … purse is gone … stolen.” She shook her head in confusion, wishing she’d gotten José to teach her more Spanish. “I don’t have the money here. No dineros,” she bit her bottom lip, hoping the waitress would be empathetic to her plight.
The waitress knotted her face into first a confused, and then angry frown as Donna tried again in broken Spanish to tell her what had happened.
“Necesitas pagar ahora!” the waitress said, pointing to the bill.
The waitress, her long ponytail swaying back and forth as she became more animated, was now yelling at her, saying something about the police.
She wanted to cry. She couldn’t even run away, with her leg still swollen from her fall.
Suddenly she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Excuse me, madam. I noticed you are having difficulties,” she heard from behind her, the hand clearly attached to a voice with an English gentleman’s accent.
The man then spoke in Spanish, his commanding tone immediately halting the waitress’s rant.
Donna turned around, finally getting a glimpse of the stranger as he turned back to her. “It sounds to me like you have lost your wallet,” he said gently. “Allow me to pay for this for you.”
The man had curly salt and pepper hair and a well-groomed beard, but what stood out the most were his startling, almost frightening green eyes. He wore a deep purple shirt and wore a tiny gold ring in his ear. His eyes creased at the corners as he grinned at her, revealing twinkling gold teeth in the back of his mouth.
“Oh no. Please, that’s too much,” Donna said, a little worried about what he might expect for the kindness.
“Nonsense.” He gave a couple of bills to the waitress, who disappeared as soon as she got a grip on the money. “In return, please … just enjoy one more sunset drink with me. Then I will let you go about your business,” he said with a charming smile.
The man gestured at a chair and Donna hesitantly sat down.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” the man said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
Donna answered anyway. “No, I’ve just arrived. Are you on holiday?”
“No, my lady,” he chuckled.” I am Spanish, through and through.” His words fell into an accent as he said them. “I don’t think I have seen you before. It would be difficult to miss someone with such unique beauty as yours.”
His green eyes darted up and down her frame, taking her all in, and she fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat.
“You’ve been sitting here alone all day. Surely you are not visiting our little paradise alone?” he inquired, her uneasiness growing at the question.
She didn’t want this stranger to think she was alone.
“Oh no, I’ve come to visit my … best friend. He’s getting married. I’m his best man.”
He looked a little incredulous, looking her up and down even more obviously, those eyes of his not missing a thing.
“Well, you are the most attractive best man I have ever seen!” He chuckled more loudly, gold gleaming through the gap in his mouth once again.
“Do you like it here?” he asked, once his laughter had subsided.
“Oh yes,” she said automatically, hoping this interaction would be over soon.
“And by that I mean, are you having a good time?”
“Oh, for sure,” she said again, convincing no one.
“Well, whatever you say, I can see something in your eyes that tells a different story. It is a shame, because this place, this land … it is to be enjoyed.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d just spent a good part of the day trying to drill that thought into her lovelorn head.
He put his hand inside his purple shirt pocket and pulled out a paper, handing it to her. “Here, take this. Whatever your personal circumstance, you should see the heart of Spain. You should see something of what this place is about—feel its roots, taste everything it has to offer.”
It was a ticket.
“What is this?”
“It’s a ticket to my show. You can use it any night. It’s good for one show, any day of the week,” he said.
“I really don’t think I’m going to have time, and I’m not—”
“Just take it!” he interrupted, his words sounding almost like a command, and placed his hand on hers, the ticket between them.
She didn’t say anything more. They sat in semi-silence, with him making some more small talk as he watched her sip her drink.
He had ordered both of them some kind of orange liqueur, very sweet and too strong to down very fast.
She got up as soon as she finally finished. “Right, well, thank you for the drink. I should really be off now. My friend will be wondering where I am, but thank you so much for helping me out. I wish I could give you the money for my drinks,” she said as forcefully and politely as she could.
“You can repay me simply by attending my show,” he replied.
You said that having a drink with you was enough. Now it’s the show.
She forced herself not to recoil as he placed a kiss on each cheek—the Spanish way, she’d quickly learned—and then began a slow walk home in the dusk.
The Virgin’s Dance_Older Man Younger Woman Romance Page 17