Ah, yes, my climbing wall. I almost forgot about my surprise.
I hug Eva’s waist and pull her with me, suddenly brewing with the anticipation. “Come, Eva, we need to take the elevator for that.”
Our skin contact has the immediate effect of heating my blood and making my body aware of each cell that was lucky enough to touch Eva.
When we get to the elevator, I release her and press the call button. While we wait for it to arrive, Eva plays with a lock of her hair, while I’m ordering my whirling sensations into some sizable bites.
But there’s one I can’t seem to get my head around. It’s the wish that invaded my chest when Eva spoke about her Mujer Sin Alma. I wanted to convince Eva that it’s much better to believe in a princess tale like Cinderella than in a monster who would come from the darkness to feed on her soul. I wished for Eva to believe that real fairy-tale endings exist.
Which is absurd, given that I don’t believe in happily-ever-afters. So why do I want to demonstrate for Eva something I don’t have faith in? What’s happening to me?
The elevator bell interrupts me before I can answer to this impending question.
All the better. I have done enough soul-searching for a lifetime today. I don’t need to get any more confused than I already am. Now, all we need to do is have some fun.
In my realm this time.
Chapter 22
(Eva)
“No, there is no way I’m trying this!” I squeak, pushing aside the pair of climbing shoes Nathan holds out.
His innocent question from last night, when he asked me what shoe size I wear, gains a whole new significance as I blink around in his giant private gym.
It’s located in the underground level of his condo, and it’s huge. Really, the place could host several large teams of climbing aficionados and still come across as half-empty. One corner is packed with rings, chin up bars, and other weird equipment, but the rest is a zen-like free space mapped with soft cushioning mats. Crush pads—as Nathan called them. The whole room might even be inviting, given that it also smells amazing—citrusy and clean—if it weren’t for the grey, textured-surface concrete walls with the steep indentions and intimidating protrusions all over the place.
My wandering gaze stops on the climbing wall, which must be like fifty-five feet—enough for anyone to live out their Ninja Warrior fantasies.
Nathan grins at me with a don’t-be-such-a-scared-little-girl look in his eyes. “Eva, that’s not the one I’m proposing. I use that one, either for highballing or lead climbing. Both would be too much for you.” He points at a fifteen-foot wall that slopes slightly toward the ground.
Some of the grips are grey to mimic the conditions of an outdoor rock, but the majority of the handles are brightly painted, the shades so eye-catchingly crisp I imagine I can almost smell the fresh paintwork.
“What about this small bouldering wall?” he asks.
Small? It still looks giant to me. But instead of admitting this, I say, “What’s bouldering exactly?”
“It’s like free climbing. No ropes, no harness, but you do it at a safe distance from the ground. It’s the best way to get into this sport. You don’t need anything else except chalk for your hands and proper shoes.” He swings the pair in his hand. “And we’ve got both.”
“I’m not even dressed right.”
Nathan doesn’t seem fazed by my comment. “You wanted to see where I live. Well, this here”—he waves around—“is my favorite part of the house. It’s also the place I spend most of my time when I’m at home.”
My strained expression softens. “Then I’m glad we are here. But I can’t climb anything in this dress.”
“Of course you can’t. That’s why I’ll lend you a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. What do you say? Come on, it’ll be fun.”
His smile and enthusiasm are contagious. Though I’m not convinced that bouldering is anywhere in the range of my capabilities, I feel a sudden anticipation to give it a go. After all, he already immersed himself in my world of salsa. Perhaps I can do the same with what he likes to do.
“Okay, why not? Where are the clothes you’re going to loan me?”
After ten minutes, I’ve changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, using a dressing room equipped with a large sauna, steam room, and Jacuzzi.
I shoot a quick glance into the mirror and reach for the hem of my T-shirt. Perhaps I could tie a knot in front of my belly to reduce its tent-like character somewhat, and prevent the baggy white fabric from disturbing me in my movements while climbing.
As I twist the material, a familiar scent tickles my nostrils. Mhmm, it smells like him. Woody and masculine. Suddenly, I don’t mind that it’s oversized, because having Nathan’s cologne enveloping my body sends my molecules into an ecstatic buzz.
Nathan is doing pull ups on two rings when I enter the gym. He’s changed into a similar attire to mine, but it looks much better on him.
His face is relaxed as if the odd conversation about his dad isn’t bothering him anymore. When he notices me, he lets the rings go and walks to me.
“Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Thanks for the shoes, by the way. They fit perfectly.”
These shoes are the first gift that I’ve honestly thanked him for.
This realization startles me somewhat. Is it a sign that I’m more comfortable with Nathan now? Likely, yes. Also, somehow this present is different. It’s thoughtful. He bought me these shoes, because he wanted to share something from his life with me, so they make me happy instead of uneasy, despite the fact that they’re probably the most expensive brand out there.
“You’re welcome,” Nathan answers with a grin.
My pulse accelerates as if my heart is a Ferrari engine and his up-curved lips have just pushed the pedal to the metal. It can’t be just his looks that send my emotions into such a haywire. Though that’s definitely a factor. Nathan is easily one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met. But if he was just a pretty face, I wouldn’t have such a hard time keeping my cool.
No, it has more to do with his…charisma, charm, or even magnetism. The word doesn’t really matter. It can’t possibly encompass everything that’s bewitching about him. That dark, raw glint with which his eyes filled when we slow-danced together. That endearingly cute way his chin contracts when he’s embarrassed, like when he saw that flashy palace yesterday morning. The soft, tender tone he used with my brother…yes, all that makes Nathan special.
I recall Murphy’s worries that Abuelita entrusted me with. I can understand Murphy. Nathan deserves more than just dedicating himself to work. He’s probably very talented at what he does, but it shouldn’t be all of his life. He has so much to give. A depth I could have never fathomed the first time we spoke.
Nathan puts an arm around my waist and pulls me with him to the wall. “Shall we start?”
“Okay, but you go first. Show me how it’s done.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.” Nathan grabs with both hands onto a blue hold. “In bouldering, you have ‘problems’, as it’s called. The idea is for you to reach the top by only placing your feet and hands on the holds with the chosen color. You will do red, as that’s a traverse climb, and thus the safest, okay?”
“Okay.” I nod.
I think I understand why Nathan likes climbing. It’s not only a physical exercise, but also a mental one, in which you have to figure out the best way to keep on the route you picked. Add in the dash of adrenaline that may come when you reach a height where you could get injured, and it provides the perfect high stakes for someone with his character.
Nathan lifts both of his feet off the ground and pushes himself higher on the wall. He looks like Spiderman as he places his hands and feet in quick subsequent steps. He keeps speaking to me as he crawls higher and higher. “Over a long climbing session you can work on your stamina, but shorter climbs are all about power, and you’ll find that you get a good workout as your arms, legs, and core will all be en
gaged throughout.” In less than five minutes, he reaches the top and then makes his way back down to me. “It’s your turn now.”
I step over to the wall, placing my fingers around the red grip Nathan indicated to me. It feels rough beneath my fingertips, but I find that its form is well-designed and allows a fairly stable grasp.
Nathan comes up behind me and places his hands on my sides. “I’m going to accompany your movements, but without holding your weight. This way you’ll feel safe but still get to do it on your own.”
The route where the red holds are supposed to guide me don’t reach more than eight feet, so technically there is no real danger. The cushioning mats would soften any slips. But the sensation of a cocoon that Nathan’s hands provide is such that I gladly agree to his proposition.
“Okay, so up you go,” he murmurs into my neck, and his breath sends chills through my spine. The really nice kind.
I place a foot on another red hook and push myself upwards.
Nathan, just as he promised, doesn’t let go of me. His fingers stay glued to my waist, exercising just the right amount of pressure for me to know he’s got me, but without overpowering my movement.
I throw a slanted glance at the next red stepping rock, because it is indeed a bulge, not a screwed-in hold like the one I’ve just used. It seems too far for me to reach. “I’m not sure I can stretch that far without your help.”
“No, of course you can. You’ve got this, Eva. Use the outer edge of your shoe when taking your position. It will help to keep your center of gravity over your leg and ground you so you can grab that upper grip with a stretched arm. It’s always better than a bent one, because it gives your muscles a rest. If you hold tension, your arms will fatigue quickly.”
Actually, they’re already kind of doing that. But I keep this little secret to myself and attempt to shift my weight just as Nathan instructed me to do. Just as I raise my foot, I perceive a slight tightening of his palms on my skin, but as he sees that I’m not dropping, he eases back immediately, letting me accomplish my first bouldering step alone.
“I did it!” I exclaim triumphantly.
“Yes, you did. I told you that you could.”
I continue my route up the climbing wall, closely following Nathan’s instructions on when to use my arms and when to push from my thighs. He compliments me on my flagging skills—apparently a real technique, which I seem to be using automatically to hold my balance.
The further I advance on the wall, the more fun I’m having. Perhaps I could add bouldering to my regular workout. I’ve been looking for a way to tone my arms anyway. And if I get better at this, maybe I can join Nathan when he trains in his gym sometime?
The idea to enjoy his hobby together comes so instinctively. And it is exactly this naturalness that turns my innards upside down. Could it be that Nathan qualifying our relationship as “dating” is starting to rub off on me? Or did Abuelita and Laia insert some remote controlled chips into my brain that they’re triggering right now? That could certainly explain why I’m suddenly comfortable with the idea of being around Nathan as if he were my boyfriend, instead of freaking out.
I’m so occupied figuring out the answers to these questions that I miss my last foothold and flounder backwards. Luckily, Nathan’s reflexes are quick and, instead of stumbling to the ground, I end up in his arms. Which is a way better place to be.
He lowers me to the mat and turns me around. “Everything okay?” he asks with a worried glance.
“Oh, sorry. I zoned out. I was thinking about…” Whether I can trust you and let you in my life…and how your lips may taste. “…that painting in your house.”
His brows arch. “The Chagall?”
“Yes.” Why not? It is an exquisite piece of art. And it’s a far better excuse for my phasing out than the truth.
Nathan strokes his five-o-clock shadow, which is even more prominent now than it was at the lake. The gesture gives him an enigmatic expression, and I can’t say whether he believed my white lie. Just as I’m about to add something to strengthen my story, he surprises me. “I was thinking about it, too. Just before you slipped.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, or rather, I thought of what you told me when we were in front of that painting. You know, that story of La Mujer Sin Alma.”
I shuffle my foot. “Do you find it weird?” I wasn’t sure if it was a mistake to tell Nathan my mother’s cautionary tale.
Nathan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Not at all. But it made me remember something I learned from Old Sam back in St. James.”
“The gardener at your school?”
“Yes. Once, I planted a small geranium with him. That plant almost died because I forgot to water it regularly. The leaves dried and flowers dried up and fell off.”
I furrow my brows, wondering how this has anything to do with my tale. Or me for that matter.
Nathan notices my puzzled expression and adds, “When I realized what happened, I swore I’d never garden again. But Old Sam laughed at me. He said I just needed to shear the plant back by one-third and water it properly, and it’d encourage another heavy show of flowers. I didn’t believe him, but it worked. You know what he said to me when he saw my surprise?” Nathan captures my gaze and brushes back a strand of hair behind my ear. “He said that sometimes our fear of failure makes us believe that things are lost when they aren’t. He claimed that geraniums are like our hearts—resilient. They can endure so much and bounce back from it.”
I gape at him, my pulse throbbing in my throat. “Wow, he was a wise man.”
“Yes, he was,” Nathan says with a throaty undertone as if he’s aware of the full effect of his words on me and patient enough to wait till I wrap my head around it.
And there is much to think about indeed. I know by now that I made an error by shoving Nathan into the “arrogant rich men” category. I was probably mistaken to have such a polarized black-white vision of wealthy guys at all. These are realizations I’ve already made and accepted.
But now, a new insight is making its way into my soul, and it’s more unsettling than any previous discovery about myself. By choosing to accept the conclusions of my mother’s story and believing that another mistake like the one I made with Fernando would destroy my heart for good, I’ve sold myself short. I didn’t trust my own soul’s power to regenerate and to find happiness.
A faint beeping interrupts us.
“It’s my alarm,” Nathan tilts his head toward his pants that sit neatly folded on the crush pad. “I set it because I didn’t want to make you late for the Desert Rose. We need to get changed and get going if you want to be there on time.”
Soft thrills spread in my chest at his sweet gesture. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
It’s very like him to be so organized, but knowing that he built this precaution into our time together, warms my heart.
As I look at Nathan’s kind, almost apologetic smile, something moves inside of me. It’s like a dormant fairy, who still has difficulty spreading her wings, but is awake enough to finally see. And suddenly I find myself thinking that, by not granting myself another shot at love, I could be committing the worst error of all…
Chapter 23
(Eva)
The darkness has started to descend by the time Nathan slows his car in front of the Desert Rose. The parking is already crammed, making me anticipate a night where three performances might not be sufficient. I was right to warn Abuelita I’d be home late.
Nathan switches off the engine. “Here we are. Right on time, just like I promised.”
As I unbuckle my seatbelt, still contemplating my feelings for Nathan and their undeniable existence, getting out of Nathan’s car to go to Alfonso’s bar feels…good. No, it feels right. Despite a giant part of my brain trying to convince me that it isn’t, something changed in me in Nathan’s gym. Was it the fun we had when climbing together? Was it our sharing about the past? Nathan’s metaphor about gardening?
I’m not sure, but maybe I shouldn’t care. I should just let it develop and see where it takes me.
“Eva. Eva?” Nathan’s deep voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He’s watching me with a bemused smile.
“Oh, sorry. I was…rehearsing tonight’s new choreography in my head.” Dah! Couldn’t I have come up with a better excuse?
Nathan flashes one of those smiles I’ve just been reminiscing about. “And here I was hoping you were pondering when we should meet again.”
I throw the ball back into his court. “Oh, I don’t want to propose something that doesn’t fit into your schedule. I know how much you enjoy planning anyway.”
His brows crease. “I don’t know, Eva. Somehow the behaviors that came naturally to me a few days ago don’t anymore. Not when I’m with you.”
“Oh? Is that a good or a bad thing?”
Nathan cocks his head to the side. “That depends. Is feeling like a fish out of water the start of a new adventure, or a sign that one is losing himself?”
“Both probably. I think…”
The image of Nathan standing in his living room like he was being haunted by a ghost flashes through my mind and I swallow back my words.
“What do you think, Eva?” Nathan’s chest pivots to me, and I can’t help but recall our first meeting when he told me what a telltale sign it is if somebody turns their entire torso to their partner. He really wants to hear what I think.
“I‘ve done enough unsolicited analysis of you today, no?” I add a warm smile to my question so he understands I don’t intend any harm.
Nathan’s forehead creases as if he’s just realized where I’ve been heading with my thoughts.
It’s his choice now. If he changes the subject, I’ll just let him. All of us have lies we tell ourselves. Lies we have a hard time letting go. I should know it better than anyone.
Law #1: Never Bet on Love: A Sweet Billionaire Love Story (Laws of Love) Page 19