by Isabel Keats
Leopold had always been proud of the ironclad grip he had on his emotions, and he wasn’t prepared to let a brash neighbor change that. When he kissed her, she had seemed quite willing, despite eventually rebuffing his advances. She had said something about not wanting to get involved with anyone, but there was nothing wrong with letting one’s hair down once in a while. He’d do everything in his power to seduce her: the sooner he slept with her, the sooner he could get her out of his head.
Feeling more relaxed after these musings, Leopold went to his bedroom and fell back onto his bed. With his arms crossed behind his head, he stared up at the painting he’d bought at Diego Torres’s gallery. He loved that painting; it gave him a sense of calm that lately he’d been badly in need of, but it wasn’t because the glinting eyes were the same as his neighbor’s, or because her vitality had been captured in the image. No. It wasn’t because of that. The boy had talent.
That was all.
CHAPTER 12
For the next few days, Leopold struggled to focus on his work. Though whenever anyone said something to him at the office, it took him a moment to process it, and he didn’t always give the best response. His secretary, a middle-aged woman who had worked for him for over fifteen years, looked at him with concern, and he had to assure her on several occasions that nothing was wrong.
All his energy was consumed with trying to figure out a way to get his neighbor into bed. As soon as he devised one plan, he would discard it, and then he’d think up another that was even more elaborate. The whole business was becoming an obsession, and he realized he was at risk of going out of his mind.
A couple of weeks later, he decided to take her to dinner at one of London’s most fashionable restaurants, which was always booked at least three months in advance. Through his contacts, he secured a table for two for that night, and he went to tell his neighbor. He rang the bell, once, twice . . . five times, until it became clear that Catalina wasn’t at home. Frustrated, he returned to his apartment, and just then, the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“Leo . . . Leo?” He recognized his neighbor’s voice, but it sounded like she was far away and there was unpleasant background noise.
“Catalina? Go on, I can hear you.”
“I need a favor, Leo.”
“A favor?”
“I need you to take Milo for a walk; I don’t know what time I’ll be home tonight.”
“Where are you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, but Cat’s voice dropped out for a few seconds and he didn’t catch her reply.
“. . . the key’s behind the fire extinguisher in the stairwell,” she continued when he could hear her again.
“All right, Catalina, don’t worry, I’ll take him out.”
“Thanks, Leo! I knew I could count on—” The call was cut off completely.
“Blast!” Leopold was worried that something was troubling his neighbor.
He found the key and let himself into Catalina’s apartment. For a moment, he was tempted to go into her studio and examine the rest of her paintings, but he resisted the urge. It would be no better than reading her diary, he decided. “Hello, Milo,” he responded to the giant animal’s vigorous greeting.
He put the leash on the dog, and before long they were on the street, where they took a long walk around the wharves. When they got back, Catalina still hadn’t returned. Leopold gave the dog its food and sat for a while in an armchair leafing through an art book. At around ten, he decided to go home. He made some dinner and waited, listening for Catalina’s arrival. It was almost midnight when he heard the elevator stop on their floor. He quickly opened his door and saw his neighbor struggling to turn the key in her lock. At first, he thought she’d been drinking, but when she heard a noise behind her, Cat turned toward him and he saw dark rings around her eyes; he realized that she was simply exhausted. All his plans for seducing her were immediately wiped from his mind. “Catalina, what is it?” He went to her, gently moving her out of the way and turning the key himself.
“Hi, Leo, thanks for taking care of Milo.” She tried to smile with trembling lips, but it was clear that the effort was too great.
“Have you had dinner?” Leopold asked, following her into her apartment.
“No, but I couldn’t eat a bite.”
“I’ll warm you up some milk.” Not taking no for an answer, he went to the kitchen.
Without the strength to argue, Catalina dropped onto the sofa. Her neighbor returned a few minutes later with a glass of milk and some cookies on a tray. He sat beside her and handed her the glass. She took a few sips and put it back on the coffee table. “I was worried about you,” he said.
“As you can see, I’m fine.” Cat fell silent for a few seconds, and then continued. “It’s Rachel . . .” Her lips began trembling again, and Leopold remembered the girl with Down syndrome he’d met at the exhibition.
“What’s happened?” He moved close to her and put his arms around her, tucking her head in the crook of his arm.
“We were in class painting and she suddenly collapsed. I called for help, an ambulance came, and I went with her to the hospital. They worked on her for hours, trying everything, but . . .” Catalina, who until then had been recounting the events in a monotone voice, fell apart. She sank her head into Leopold’s chest and began to sob. Leopold held her tighter, feeling powerless. “She died . . . When . . . her mother arrived, I had to . . . give her the news.” Her sobs became more intense against his shirt. “Oh, Leo, it was so heartbreaking.”
He stroked her hair and back soothingly, and let her cry until his shirt was soaked. After several minutes, the tears stopped flowing, though the occasional shudder still shook her slender body. Eventually, Cat looked up at him with a shaken expression. “Thank you, Leo. I needed to tell someone.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Catalina.” Leopold dried her tears with the tips of his thumbs.
She tried to get to her feet, but her knees were so weak that she was forced to sit back down on the sofa. Her neighbor stood, lifted her in his arms as if she were weightless, and carried her to the bedroom. He gently put her down on the bed and helped her take off her jacket and boots. “Honestly, Leo, it’s not necessary—”
“You did the same for me, remember? I’m just returning the favor.”
Cat gave a faint smile and took the pajamas Leo handed to her. “Put them on and then I’ll tuck you in again,” he said with tenderness, before leaving the room.
When he returned, Catalina was lying on her back in her uncle’s large bed, with the covers up to her chin. Leopold sat beside her and took one of her hands. “Do you feel a bit better?”
“A bit. But I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”
“Let me help. Close your eyes and try to relax.”
Catalina obediently closed her eyes and instantly felt his fingers, as light as an eyelash, gliding around the arch of her eyebrows, running down the bridge of her nose, tracing the contours of her eyes, her cheekbones, and her chin. Her tense muscles began to relax, until finally the accumulated fatigue and stress caught up with her and she fell fast asleep.
Leopold brushed a soft lock of hair from her pale face. Unable to stop himself, he bent his head and rested his mouth on her lips. Catalina didn’t move. With great effort, he tucked her in and left the room.
When Cat opened her eyes, she wondered why she felt like the weight of the universe rested on her shoulders. Then she remembered what had happened the night before, and she was overcome with such desperate sadness that she just wanted to close her eyes again, pull the covers over her head, and never leave her bed. Just then, she heard her bedroom door open, and Leo came in with a tray. “Coffee and croissants,” he announced, approaching the bed.
Catalina sat up and rested her back against the headboard. “Have you been here all night?”
; Leopold, freshly shaven and wearing an elegant dark suit, white shirt, and nice silk tie, could not have looked better. “No, I went home. But I thought it’d be a good idea to make you some breakfast before I went to the office; you had no dinner yesterday evening.” He gently laid the tray on her lap.
The delicious smell of fresh coffee hit Catalina, and the sight of the toasted croissant with butter and jam made her mouth water.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Leo,” said Cat, after swallowing a piece of the delicious pastry. “I must admit I was completely wrong about you.”
“Oh?” Her neighbor sat on one side of the bed and looked at her tousled hair and her charming face. It had regained its usual color.
“Mmm-hmm.” Cat nodded, her mouth full again.
Leopold gazed at her with amusement. “And what did you think I was like? I’m curious.”
“I thought you were cold and insensitive. Totally indifferent to the problems the people around you might have.”
“You’re painting a charming picture,” he said, using his long fingers to push aside a lock of brown hair that had fallen onto Cat’s forehead and tucking it behind one of her ears.
“But like I said, I was completely wrong.” Catalina took a sip of coffee. “You’re a kind, courteous, charming man, and to top it all off, you’re a divine cook.”
“I’m glad you don’t think I’m an ogre,” he remarked.
“No, you’re not an ogre at all.” Cat laid her palm on the back of her neighbor’s hand, which was resting on the covers, and she gave him such a tender look that Leopold felt short of breath. “Thank you, Leo. I don’t know what I’d have done last night had you not been here.”
“We’d best not get sentimental.” He quickly pulled his hand away and stood up. If he didn’t leave the room immediately, he knew he’d pounce on her and make love to her like he had been dreaming about for days. Betraying nothing in his severe expression, he picked up the tray. “I have to go to work,” he said.
“Come here for just a second, please.” Reluctantly, he approached the bed again. “I need you to bend down.”
Even more hesitantly, he leaned forward until his head was at Catalina’s level. She put an arm around his neck and, pulling him toward her, landed a gentle kiss on his firm lips. A shudder of desire ran through his body, and had it not been for the tray, he would have taken her in his arms and not let her go.
“You’re a good friend.” Cat slowly released him, and he had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could speak again.
“I’ll see you later, Catalina,” he declared in a hoarse voice, and left the room as quickly as possible. In the kitchen, he rested his forehead against the cool fridge door and tried to calm himself down; he’d had to draw on every last bit of his self-control to tear himself away from Catalina, and the effort had left him exhausted.
A few mornings later, Cat had just closed the door to her apartment when she heard a voice behind her. “Good morning, Catalina. I’ll give you a lift.”
Startled, she turned to find Leo, as elegant as ever, dressed in dark pants and a fitted gray overcoat. “How do you know where I’m going?” she asked in surprise. She, too, wore a dark coat, black tights, and some understated pumps.
“I called the school to ask when the funeral would be. Come on.” With that, he put his arm around her waist and guided her to the elevator.
Though his authoritarian manner often annoyed her, this time Catalina didn’t resist. In fact, she was grateful to have her reliable neighbor’s company at such a difficult time.
St. Luke’s Church on Old Street was packed, and Leopold and Cat sat on a bench at the back. The service was very moving: the parish choir sang beautifully, and the vicar, who must have known the family well, gave a touching homily. Leopold kept glancing at Cat out of the corner of his eye, and he noticed that, though she wasn’t crying, her lips trembled.
When the service was over, they made their way to the front to offer their condolences to Rachel’s parents. The mother was devastated and hugged Catalina tightly, and Cat couldn’t hold back any longer and started to cry. She wasn’t aware of how she left the church; all she knew was that Leopold was by her side, his arm firmly around her waist, and that he took care of everything.
All of a sudden she found herself sitting in his large black sports car once again, headed home. She dried her eyes with a tissue and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Leo, do you mind—,” Cat broke off, unable to control the trembling in her voice.
“What is it, Catalina? Tell me what you want.” Her neighbor’s gentle voice instantly soothed her.
“I . . . I don’t want to be alone, Leo,” she finally said.
“I’m not going to leave you, Catalina, don’t worry. What do you want to do? Shall we go to a restaurant for dinner? I could take you to see a movie?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want to be around people. I’d like peace and quiet.”
“In that case, I have the perfect plan,” her neighbor declared. “We’ll go to my place, watch a film, and I’ll make you some dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Nonsense. You won’t be able to resist my salad,” he said with conviction.
Leopold drove skillfully through the thick London traffic, and before long, they were in his living room. Cat took off her coat and shoes and sat on the armchair with her legs folded under her, while her neighbor, frowning, scanned his extensive DVD collection. “I don’t know if this was a good idea after all, Catalina; all I seem to have are cop and war movies.”
“Of course it’s a good idea, Leo. Choose whatever you want—I love films.”
Leopold eventually chose one and went to the kitchen to make dinner. Catalina picked at her salad and soon pushed her plate aside, lacking an appetite. Though it worried him that his neighbor wasn’t eating properly, he decided not to say anything, and started playing the DVD on the immense television set. Then he sat beside her, stretched his long legs over the coffee table, put his right arm over Catalina’s shoulders, and pulled her toward him. Grateful, she rested her head in the crook of his arm, and they stayed like that for the entire movie.
A sequence of deafening scenes unfolded on the screen, in which muscular men, armed to the teeth, fired at will, and state-of-the-art helicopters exploded in spectacular balls of flames. Each time Leopold looked away from the action, he noticed a new stream of silent tears falling down Cat’s smooth cheeks. The packet of tissues she’d tucked in her purse was almost empty, and between her slender fingers she was squeezing wadded-up used ones.
Impervious to the tender feelings she was stirring up in the man seated next to her, Catalina continued to stare at the screen without really seeing it, though from time to time, she did notice Leopold squeezing her tighter against him, or placing a delicate kiss on her forehead or hair. She didn’t know how long she had been crying with her neighbor’s strong and comforting arm around her shoulders, but when the final explosions had died down and the credits rolled, she felt much better, and she gazed with reddened eyes at Leopold. “Thanks a lot, Leo. It was a lovely film, except it was a bit sad.”
Leopold almost burst out laughing but contained himself. It was obvious that if someone asked Cat what the film she’d just watched was about, she wouldn’t have had the remotest idea, but it was also clear that it had done her a world of good to have a proper cry. “I’m glad you liked it,” he replied in a serious tone.
“And I’m glad to have a friend like you. I really am, Leo. I don’t know what I would’ve done today without you.” Leopold studied the sweet, slightly swollen brown eyes that smiled at him, her wet cheeks a little paler than usual. In spite of it all, he thought her the prettiest woman he’d seen in his life. Once again, he felt a familiar twitch between his legs. Annoyed at himself for feeling lustful when all Cat needed was a shoulder to cry on, he purposefully
moved away from her.
“I’m pleased I could help.” He was relieved his voice didn’t give him away.
“I’ll go home now, I’m exhausted.” Catalina picked up her coat and shoes, too tired to bother putting them on. Her neighbor accompanied her to the door.
“Come here, Leo.”
Uh-oh. Leopold could sense what was coming. He reluctantly obeyed, and leaned forward. Catalina rested her free hand on his cheek and stroked his brow with her thumb, while her tortured neighbor clenched his teeth in a heroic effort to suppress a moan. “Thanks, friend,” she said softly, and she rested her lips on his.
Unable to stop himself, he held her tight. Catalina’s arms encircled his waist, and he heard her shoes fall to the floor behind her. Then he kissed her forehead and, determined, pulled away. “Sleep well, Catalina,” he said to her in a hoarse voice, and quickly turned away so that she couldn’t see his face.