“Absolutely,” he responded. “But I hate version B.”
Nina smiled. “I know. I hate it too.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Rafael walk across the conference room. Even at one A.M., after he’d exchanged his button-down shirt and suit jacket for a T-shirt and hoodie, his face unshaven and his hair a mess, Nina felt her body trying to point itself in his direction. Carisuapo, Nina’s mother might have called him—a combination of the words carismatico and guapo. Charismatic and handsome. Though if Rafael said it, it would sound more like caliuapo. Nina had gotten used to his Cuban accent—the dropped s, the r that sounded more like an l. As she sat there, watching him walk down the hallway, she found herself trying to figure out how he would pronounce other Spanish words. Difrutal. Depue. She pictured the shape of his lips as he spoke.
Nina closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to reset her mind. No more Rafael. No more lips. Tim, she thought, picturing his face in her mind. His hazel eyes with their reddish-blond lashes. His smile when she walked into a room. Her mind cleared, Nina focused on the speech, her eyes zipping across the computer screen, her fingers dancing on keys. This was just work. Nothing more.
Nina rolled her neck from side to side. She needed a run. She needed a massage. All this time bent forward over her laptop had tightened her shoulders. She tried to imagine Tim’s hands kneading her muscles, to see if her mind could convince her body the massage had already happened, but somehow it was Rafael’s fingers she saw. His manicured cuticles, the soft dark hair that climbed from his wrist toward his pinky. Involuntarily, she shivered. Stop it, she told herself.
Nina rolled her neck once more, carefully pushing thoughts of massages out of her head, and went back to her screen.
“I brought you a present,” Rafael said, walking back into the conference room a few minutes later and dropping a bag of M&Ms on Nina’s side of the table. His voice was resonant in the quiet room. He’d unzipped his sweatshirt and she could see the T-shirt underneath. It read Pluto: Never Forget.
“Thanks,” Nina said. “Nice shirt.”
Rafael beamed at her. She couldn’t help but smile back. “I was hoping you’d like it,” he said.
Nina could feel herself blush. She was in Rafael’s mind when he changed that night.
“It doesn’t take much, Palabrecita, does it?” Rafael’s smile somehow turned sweeter.
“What did you just call me?” Nina asked, feeling her blush deepen.
“Palabrecita,” he answered, leaning against a bookshelf as he drank his Coke.
“Poor little word girl?” Nina roughly translated the word, a mash-up of palabra and pobrecita, she figured. Her mother would have liked that. She used to call Nina intelinda, a combination of intelligent and beautiful.
Nina invented her own word combinations, but this was the first time Rafael had added to her invented dictionary. She hadn’t even realized he’d known about her portmanteaus. She usually just shared them with Jane and Jorge, who was in charge of the Get Out the Vote messaging.
Rafael nodded at her definition. “Poor little word girl indeed. I’ve kept you here late tonight. I just took a spin around the office and literally everyone else has gone home. Even Rocco.”
“The janitor?” Nina asked.
Rafael nodded. “And he usually stays pretty late.”
Nina rubbed her eyes, surprised her contact lenses didn’t feel more like sandpaper. Though the main room had windows, the conference room they were in didn’t, so it was hard to know what time it was when you were in there—her contact lenses were usually her only indicator of exactly how long she’d been awake. “I don’t mind,” she said. Though she should. She reminded herself how perfectly her life and Tim’s meshed together. How nice their future would be—each running their own company, summering at her grandparents’ place in the Hamptons, dinners with his parents, ski holidays in Alta, little redheaded children who would eventually inherit the hotels but would work in the corporation only if they wanted to.
“Well, good. I don’t mind either,” Rafael said, that unreadable look back in his eyes.
Then he came up behind her to read the screen over her shoulder. Nina swore she could feel the heat radiating off his body. She tried closing her eyes, but it didn’t work this time. Neither did imagining Tim welcoming her to his place at night with a hug. Milkshakes. File folders. Banana peels, she thought. But none of those tricks changed how close Rafael was, how nice it would be to lean back and rest her head against him, to feel his hands on her shoulders. The image of him giving her a massage popped back into her mind and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. Mom, she thought, please help me if you can. Fuertrado.
“Maybe you don’t need to read this one out loud,” Nina said, looking at her screen.
Rafael’s face was so close to hers, it wouldn’t take much for their foreheads to touch, their noses. Their lips.
“Won’t it be bad luck if I don’t read it?” he asked, his face still inches from hers, his breath tinged with the sweetness of Coca-Cola. “If I don’t prepare to lose, then I will. If I prepare to win, I won’t.”
Nina laughed, the tension between them slackening as she did. “Are you really that superstitious?”
Rafael straightened up and ran his fingers through the hair just above his right ear.
“What?” Nina asked. “What are you thinking about hiding?”
Rafael shook his head. “It’s like you’re a mind reader. Did you major in telepathy in college or something?”
“Poli sci,” Nina answered. “But I wish they’d offered telepathy. Or telekinesis. I’ve always wanted to be able to move things with my mind.”
Rafael smiled at Nina again. “Poli sci. That’s right. I remember your résumé. You minored in Spanish literature. And then got an MBA.”
“That was for my dad,” Nina said. “I’d wanted to do a master’s in Spanish lit. As a way to connect with my mom . . . or to connect with her memory. Maybe I wanted . . .” It was getting late. Nina was tired. She didn’t usually talk about her mom so easily with anyone other than Leslie. It made her wish for things she could never have. But Rafael was . . . Rafael. She could see why he was spectacular in a courtroom—it was the same reason he was good at a fund-raiser or in front of a crowd. There was something disarming about him; it made her want to trust him with everything.
“Maybe you wanted what?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the table, his dark brown eyes focusing in on her.
“Maybe I wanted you to tell me about how superstitious you are,” she answered, her tired brain back in action, deflecting, defending.
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes gentle. It seemed like he understood she’d revealed a piece of herself she wasn’t quite comfortable sharing. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to answer.
Finally, he knelt down next to her. “I can’t believe I’m going to show this to you.” He pulled his T-shirt away from his neck, matching her reveal with one of his own. “Look in my collar. Right near the tag.”
She looked at the soft skin at the nape of his neck, and then quickly shifted her eyes to his collar. Pinned to the fabric with a gold-colored safety pin was a black stone dangling on a short chain. “What’s that?” she asked.
“An azabache,” he said. “My abuela pinned it on my shirt the day I was born. I haven’t gone a day without wearing it since. It’s supposed to keep away the evil eye.”
Rafael let his shirt go and turned around.
“Do you believe it does?” she asked, curious.
“My abuela did,” he said. “And I . . . I don’t know. I mean, nothing truly terrible has happened in my life so far, I guess. And there have been a lot of good things.” He looked at her in a way that made Nina wonder if he counted her as one of those good things. “Can I definitively say that it’s not the azabache?”
Nina thought about that. And thought briefly about the fact that he didn’t count his divorce as something truly terrible. Or his father’s death. “I guess you can’t,” she answered. “Unless . . .”
Rafael put up his hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Unless I took it off and saw if my luck changed without it pinned to my collar. My college roommate suggested the same thing years ago. I’m not willing to try that. Especially not on primary day.”
Nina laughed. “I agree,” she said. “Today is not the day to experiment with luck. And honestly? It can’t hurt, right?”
“Plus it makes me feel like my abuela is with me,” Rafael added, standing up. “But if she were here, she’d tell me to read version B. Not to tempt fate.”
Every new thing Nina learned about Rafael made her want to ask questions about his past, his family, his childhood—not the kind of questions she asked as a speechwriter, but the kind she’d ask of a close friend.
“Then let’s not tempt fate,” she said. “But it’s closing in on two. Are you sure you want to stay this late? You can always give it a read in a few hours, after we’ve slept and showered and changed.”
Rafael looked at Nina again with an expression she couldn’t quite figure out. It was a combination of emotions, really. Puzzlement? Longing? Apology?
“Why wouldn’t I want to stay?” he asked.
Nina bit her lip. There were so many answers, but she didn’t want to get into any of them. Not when Rafael was leaning over her shoulder again, his breath hot and sweet against her cheek, making her shiver just slightly. “Forget I even asked,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”
And while Rafael began to read, Nina ignored the thrill she got from hearing her words from his lips. Hotelier’s Daughter Fired after Secret Relationship with Candidate Revealed, Nina thought. Joseph Gregory’s Daughter Cheats on Longtime Beau with Boss.
Her father was always so proud of their family’s reputation. And she was, too. Scandal and affair weren’t the words she wanted to be her contribution to the Gregory legacy. There weren’t any skeletons in their closets, no poorly treated employees, nothing to tarnish their name or their corporation.
She couldn’t be the one to change that. Especially not now.
19
The following night the whole campaign staff was gathered around the TV. The polls had just closed, and they were waiting for the reports. The numbers were looking good, up in some neighborhoods they hadn’t been expecting—news that had Jorge doing his version of a touchdown dance.
“Rafael’s really going to win the primary,” Jane said. “And if he does, ninety-ten says we’re working on the campaign of the very first Latino mayor of New York City.”
“I was a true believer from the beginning,” Mac told Jane. “Everyone said I was nuts to take this campaign manager job, but I knew.”
“The way you know about a good melon?” Nina quipped.
Mac looked at her funny. Jane laughed.
“She’s quoting from When Harry Met Sally,” Jane explained.
“Oh,” Mac answered. “I didn’t know people like you watched normal movies.”
Nina looked at him askance but didn’t say anything.
“Are you serious?” Jane said. “Nina’s totally normal. She just wears shoes that cost more than my rent. And uses seasons as verbs. But other than that, she’s like that magazine spread ‘Heiresses are just like us!’”
Nina had friends—like Priscilla—who wore their parents’ money like a badge of honor. But once Nina had heard about the loans that Leslie had to take out to go to college, she felt a little bit ashamed of how easy she’d had it. Working outside her own bubble gave her perspective. It was another reason she liked being part of the campaign. She looked down quickly at her Manolos. Maybe she wouldn’t wear them to the office again.
“Summer and winter are perfectly acceptable verbs,” she said, covering up her feelings with a smile. “I deal in verbs, I should know.”
Jane laughed again. Mac still looked uncomfortable. Nina wondered if her expression had mirrored his before she’d switched it. Then she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and turned away from the group. “Your dad?” Jane asked softly, her expression immediately worried. Nina marveled at how open Jane’s face was all the time, her every thought telegraphed for the world to see. You always knew where you stood with Jane.
Nina shook her head while reading the message. “Tim,” she said, relief in her voice. “Wishing us luck and asking how the numbers look.”
Jane grinned. “The best friend, now so much more. I could place a feature on the two of you anywhere,” she said.
“You and any other comms person worth their salt,” Nina said with a smile. “But we’re not features kind of people.”
As Nina laughed, she thought about Jane’s words. Tim was more, but he was less now, too. She couldn’t tell him about the feelings she was battling against at work. The way she was drawn to Rafael, even though she didn’t want to be. How she’d been thinking about Rafael’s breath on her cheek all day, about the soft skin of his neck. Before, she would have told Tim. But now she’d lost her confidant, traded that relationship for one she wasn’t convinced she liked better. Or perhaps one she was trying to convince herself she did like better. Leslie’s question rang in her mind: Why do you feel like you have to get used to it? Every answer she came up with seemed wrong.
Nina looked around the rest of the office and caught Rafael looking back at her just before he picked up a remote control, increasing the volume on the television. All conversation stopped as everyone stared at the screen.
“We have breaking news in the race for Gracie Mansion,” the anchor was saying. “With ninety-two percent of the votes counted, we can officially say that Rafael O’Connor-Ruiz has won the primary!”
The campaign headquarters exploded with shouts and cheers. Mac started high-fiving everyone. Jane hugged Nina. Champagne bottles were popped. Jorge started doing his touchdown dance again.
Nina looked back over at Rafael, to flash him a thumbs-up, and saw him walking toward her.
“Congratulations,” she said. “Felicitaciones.”
His grin was wider than she’d ever seen it. “May I thank you with a hug?” he asked. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And I mean that seriously.”
Nina willed herself not to feel anything as she opened her arms, holding Tim’s smile in her mind. “Of course,” she said. “And you absolutely could have done it without me.”
For the very first time, the warmth of Rafael’s entire body pressed against hers. His heartbeat thumped when hers did. Time stretched—until she heard the click of a cell phone camera.
“Rafael O’Connor-Ruiz embraces speechwriter Nina Gregory in celebration of his win!” Samira shouted. “Tweeting now!”
Nina pulled away. “Do you still feel good about tonight’s speech?” she asked, her body tingling from being against his. “We have another few minutes before they’ll expect you out front, if you want to change anything.”
“I feel great,” Rafael said, reaching out and squeezing Nina’s forearm.
Nina took a deep breath and smiled. But her heart was racing. In that moment, Nina realized that if she wasn’t careful, the future she and Tim had planned could disappear in an instant. She was falling for her boss.
20
The next morning, after a run along the Hudson, Nina left her apartment in Tribeca and took a car uptown. Rafael had told everyone to take the day off. Nina wanted to spend it with her father. She planned to have Tim join them for dinner as a nice surprise. Her father didn’t need to donate to Rafael’s campaign. He didn’t even need to approve of her job. He just needed to be there. To be alive. To stand sentry between her and the fear that bit at her heart whenever she thought about what it would be like when he was gone.
When Nina got up to
21-B, Carlos opened the door.
“How’s he doing this morning?” she asked, dropping her bag on the bench in the entry gallery.
“It hasn’t been the greatest day,” Carlos said. He never sugarcoated things. Nina appreciated that.
She braced herself as she headed into her father’s suite of rooms.
“Dad?” she said, as she knocked on his door. “Dad? It’s me.”
She heard a groan and pushed open the door in alarm. Her father’s teeth were clenched and his back was arched under the blankets.
“Carlos!” she yelled.
“There are lollipops,” her dad said through his teeth. “Please, Sweetheart.”
Nina saw the painkillers in a prescription bag from the pharmacy on her father’s dresser. She brought one to him and quickly unwrapped it, as Carlos entered the room.
“What—?” he said just as Nina’s father took the lollipop from her with a trembling hand and quickly put it in his mouth, shifting it against his cheek. The next few moments seemed like hours, as Nina watched, feeling entirely helpless as her father’s face contorted with pain and then relaxed again.
“You didn’t tell me it was this bad,” she said, quietly.
He looked at her, his blue eyes glassy. “I didn’t want you to know,” he said. He took her hand and laced their fingers together. Carlos slipped out.
“I’d thought we could take a walk in the park, but . . .” Nina looked around the room. “How about we work on that crossword we started a few days ago, if you haven’t finished it? Unless there’s something else you want to do?”
“The crossword puzzle is good,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
As they worked on the puzzle Nina marveled at how, even filled with pain and the drugs to block it, he was still quicker than almost everyone she knew. She felt her eyes fill.
“I love you, Dad,” she said to him. “So much that it hurts sometimes.”
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