Page 21 of One Year Ago in Spain
But in the end, she couldn’t hold out. Claire’s whole body shook from needing him—needingsomeconnection, however small—and she opened her hand. Before she could change her mind, she pressed her lips against where his had been.
Matías.
The whole world trembled.
She felt his mouth against hers, the kiss he’d left her so tender and soft—a velvet caress. The memory of his touch dissolvedher tension, and her muscles relaxed into the safety of Matías, of knowing that she had a partner by her side, someone to protect her not because she needed him to, but because they were stronger together.
Time froze, or maybe it went backward, because everything felt safe and secure and normal again. The kiss united her with Matías, and for that long moment, all was perfect.
She didn’t want to open her eyes. Didn’t want to pull her hand away from her lips and face the harsher reality.
But Claire didn’t have a choice because too soon the feel of Matías began to fade. Her palm grew cold, her mouth dry and alone.
With a sudden hollowness in her chest, she reluctantly lifted her eyelids.
The summer sunset glared off the mirrored windows of a nearby skyscraper, nearly blinding Claire. She yelped and turned away.
Then the flash was gone, and in the spot that had been too bright to look at just a second ago stood…Matías.
Claire’s breath caught.
“No, you’re seeing things,” she told herself sternly.
But it was him. She’d know him anywhere. Those broad shoulders in the blue canvas jacket with the splatter of green paint across the right sleeve. The waves of black hair, always tousled because he ran his hands through them whenever he caught sight of something that inspired him—which, with Matías’s capacity for curiosity, was often.
But mostly, it was the gleam of those golden eyes, richer and more beautiful than any Spanish sunset could ever be.
It was impossible. Just a couple of hours ago, he’d been bandaged and bruised and hooked up to all those machines.
But here he was. It was really him, and he was healthy and whole and alive, and he must be looking for her!
Claire let out a small cry and ran out of the hotel into the driveway.
“Matías! What are you doing here? The hospital…you’re supposed to be—”
He cocked his head and the corner of his mouth quirked up, as if she was another thing in the world that he found fascinating and might use in a future painting.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Claire thought she might faint at hearing the dulcet tone of his voice again. “But have we met?”
Every cell in Claire’s body went rigid. There was no recognition in his eyes. None whatsoever. Was she hallucinating, casting some stranger as her boyfriend? But no, it was him, in every detail, from carriage to voice.
“I-I’m Claire.”
“Claire.Un placer—a pleasure. I’m Matías.” He gave her one of his charmingly crooked smiles. “Now, what were you saying about a hospital?”
The setting sun glared off the mirrored skyscraper again, and the beam went right through Matías.
He was still there, but—for that split second—he was transparent.
Oh god,Claire thought. A ghost.
Which must mean…
Matías was dead.
“No…” she breathed. “You can’t…I…”
And for the second time today, Claire’s legs gave out beneath her.
