Clara’s bed, most likely.
The thought makes me angry and strangely sad at once.
I walk into the bathroom and switch on the shower. I take my toothbrush in with me and stand under the water for a long time even though the cuts on my hands and knees sting in the hot water. I shampoo and condition, then scrub myself with soap. I’m not sure what I’m trying to scrub off, his touch or my embarrassment.
My stomach growls. I’m starving.
I switch off the water and wrap a towel around myself as I walk to the closet. I look for my jeans, but they’re gone, and my duffel bag has been emptied. Did he confiscate my jeans?
I pick a sundress off a hanger, not caring which one, grab a light sweater and slip my feet into flip flops. If he tells me to put on heels for dinner, I’m going to stab him with one, I decide.
Although I’m not sure why I’m so angry with him. I remember that he took care of me. If I’m honest with myself, it’s that I’m embarrassed.
Memory flashes a piece of our conversation. Something about getting blood on his sheets.
I cover my face again. Did I try to tell him in some roundabout way that I was a virgin? Did he pick up on that?
I look up at the ceiling. “Please God, let it not be true and I swear I will never drink another drop of alcohol ever again.”
Taking a deep breath in, I open the door and walk out into the hallway. I have to face him sometime.
I’m just grateful it’s quiet as I make my way downstairs. All I hear is the soft sound of a soprano somewhere in the house. I’m tempted to investigate where it’s coming from, but the kitchen door opens and Miss Millie comes walking out.
“Well, there you are.”
I smile. “Good morning.”
“It’s night, dear.”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Are you feeling better? Stefan said you had a headache.”
“He did?”
She nods and I know she’s not stupid. I know she knows I was hungover. And I’m so grateful to her that she leaves it at that.
“I’m feeling better. Hungry, actually.”
She smiles “I’m glad to hear it. He thought you might like just some plain pasta.”
I nod, forcing myself not to overthink this. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“Go sit down. I’ll bring it out.”
“Miss Millie?” I ask.
“Yes, dear?”
“Is he here?”
“He’s on a call. I’m sure he’ll be finished soon. He’s been on it for over an hour already.” She shakes her head in disapproval.
My heartbeat picks up. “Thanks.”
She disappears into the kitchen and I walk out to the patio. I breathe in the warm night air. It’s so quiet I can hear the sound of the sea, of waves on the little beach below. I close my eyes and listen and it’s so still and peaceful here. I don’t think I’ve ever felt peace like this before.
“It’s the water,” comes his deep voice from behind me, startling me, wreaking havoc on me as I spin to face him.
How is he so quiet? He’s a big guy. And it’s not like he’s walking around barefoot.
“It’s what relaxes you,” he says, walking toward me, looking me over. “How do you feel?”
“Why was I naked in your bed?”
He smiles, his cheek dimpling when he does, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
“We’re going to get right into it, are we?”
Miss Millie chooses that moment to walk outside carrying a tray of food. A bowl of plain spaghetti sprinkled with what I’d guess to be parsley, a decanter of olive oil, a bowl of grated parmesan cheese and a huge bottle of water.
“Here we are,” she says. If she notices the awkwardness between Stefan and I, she doesn’t let on. Instead she sets my place and leaves.
Stefan gestures to the plate. “Eat before it gets cold.”
“Aren’t you eating?”
“I already ate.”
I make my way to the table and sit. He follows me, taking his seat across mine. He pours me a glass of water as I pick up my fork and start to twirl pasta.
“Use your spoon too.”
I glance up at him and make a point of shoving a heaping forkful of pasta into my mouth with just my fork, the noodles slapping against my chin as I loudly suck them in.
My father would probably smack me if I did this at home.
Stefan just grins, his eyes steady on me, making me remember all those things I remembered earlier. I look away when I feel my face heat up.
I continue to eat using just my fork even though I’d normally use my spoon too. We’re quiet until I finish the entire dish and push the plate away.
“That was good,” I say, feeling a little more human as I swallow the contents of my water glass.
Stefan pours me another.
“Do I have to lock the liquor cabinet?” he asks.
“I just had a bad night.”
“Why? What happened?”
I shrug a shoulder, remembering my call with Gabe. “Why was I naked in your bed?” I ask instead of answering him.
“Because your bikini was wet.”
“You undressed me.”
“You remember?”
“Of course, I remember. I remember everything,” I lie.
“Hmm,” he says as if he sees right through me. “I don’t mind if you have a drink or two, but I don’t want you drunk and definitely not by the pool.”
“I don’t make a habit of getting drunk and hanging out by pools.”
“You hurt yourself, Gabriela.”
“It was an accident. I just tripped.”
“Because you were drunk. What if you’d fallen into the pool?”
“Then I’d have gotten wet.”
“I don’t know that you were in any condition to swim out.”
“I wasn’t there to swim.”
“You told me you were.”
I did?
“Did you… Was there… Did anything happen?” I cringe to ask it, feeling my face burn in embarrassment when another memory returns. Me telling him how good he smelled.
He raises his eyebrows and one side of his mouth curves upward.
My embarrassment deepens but the fact that he’s laughing at me helps. It makes me angry.
“Between us, you mean?” he asks.
“No, between me and Rafa,” I deadpan, unsure why.
But the moment the words are out, the amusement vanishes from Stefan’s face.
I hadn’t really meant to say that, to use Rafa’s name. But I’ve just found a chink in Stefan’s armor.
“Be careful, Gabriela.”
“Are you jealous of him, Stefan?” I push.
“Jealous of my cousin?”
I nod.
“No, I’m not jealous of Rafa. He knows better than to touch what’s mine. Maybe it’s time I show you what that means.” He cocks his head to the side. “Should we discuss the things you told me last night?”
I hate this. Hate not remembering. It gives him such an advantage over me.
I push the chair back and stand. “My head hurts, actually. I’m going back to bed.” I turn to walk away.
“Gabriela.”
I stop.
“I haven’t dismissed you. Sit your pretty little ass back down.”