Page 51 of One Year Ago in Spain
Not that Claire wanted random guys whistling at her in the street, but no one would ever even think to do that to her. Her best trait was her intelligence. Otherwise, Claire was good-looking enough to get by, but never to stand out.
Maybe that was why Matías preferred Claire: He didn’t have to fend off other guys like he must’ve when he was with Vega.
Yay. One point for Claire. What a depressing victory.
They walked several more blocks before Vega stopped in front of a bakery with a bright yellow tiled storefront that read La Mantequilla y el Huevo. She rattled off several sentences into her app. “This is The Butter and the Egg, our favorite place for breakfast. He liked sweet and I liked savory, so he ordered magdalenas or churros con chocolate. And I would order a tortilla. But by the end of the meal, he always ended up feeding me one of his churros dipped in hot melted chocolate.” She closed her eyes and made a small moaning sound.
This might not be anentirelyfriendly trip down memory lane on Vega’s part.
Claire’s heart twinged. She’d thought that churros and chocolate was something special that Matías liked to make just for her, but now here was another woman—one he’d been with for more than a decade and a half and had wanted to marry—making not-so-subtle comments dripping with innuendo, and Claire felt so…stupid.
And small.
Plain Claire, an orphan and foster kid from Florida who thought she could change who she was by moving to the big city and dressing herself up in fancy lawyer duds. But underneath, she was still Just Claire.
Sure, Yolanda would argue that Just Claire managed to snag Matías de León, so who cares about the sultry artist who used to sleep with him?
But the problem was that Claire now had to win Matías over again. She had to not only find his soul but also make thatversion of Matías fall in love with her. What if this time she couldn’t tap into whatever had attracted him to her in New York? Here in Spain, Claire wasn’t a dynamo lawyer, she had worn the same two pairs of dirty underwear for several days before she managed to pull herself together to buy new ones,andshe was illiterate! And what if—
Oh god.
What if Matías’s soul also appeared to Vega? He was tied to his life in Madrid from a year ago. She would have already broken up with him by then, but still…If he still loved her before he left for New York, if he would’ve been willing to take her back…
But how could Claire ask? If Vega’s answer was no she hadn’t seen Matías’s soul, then Claire would sound like a delusional fool. But if Vega’s answer was yes…Maybeshewas the one who could bring Matías back.
“I…I think I’ll return to the hospital now,” Claire said. “Thanks for showing me around some of the landmarks of Matías’s life.”
Vega let her eyes flutter open slowly and looked at Claire through her lashes. “¿Qué?”
Claire took a deep breath and repeated herself into the translation app.
Vega cooed. “You do not want to see our apartment? Well, it’s mine now, but we lived there together for many years.”
Claire swallowed the bile rising in her throat. If Vega wanted to play mean, fine. But Claire didn’t have to take it. And she swore to herself thatshewould be the one to reconnect Matías to reality.
“I’m good. Thanks.” Claire pivoted on her heel.
“His studio is still here in the neighborhood,” Vega said, her tone suddenly softer. Sadder. The app didn’t convey that, but Claire heard it clearly.
“It is?” She turned back around.
Vega nodded. “The landlord had a crush on him, so she let him keep the space rent-free while he was in the United States. He couldn’t pack all of his pieces, and this was her way of ensuring he would come back after two years. The landlord, by the way, is eighty-six years old.”
Despite herself, Claire laughed.
“The studio is three blocks that way,” Vega said, pointing in a direction they hadn’t ventured yet. “Armando probably has the key, if you want to visit.” Vega had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she were remembering a time when she could come and go from the studio whenever she pleased, without Matías’s family as the gatekeepers. When she could see and touch and immerse herself in his imagination.
But Vega’s time with him was past, and Claire was not going to invite her into the studio when she got the key. Not after that churro story.
More important, though, Claire hoped that she would find Matías—or, more accurately, his soul—at the studio.
After all, he’d said he needed to pack up his paintings and get ready to send them to the Rose Gallery in New York, right?
Claire
“Thank you forcoming out here,” Claire said. “I didn’t expect to end up in Malasaña when I chased after Vega.”
“It is no problem,” Armando said. “It was not my turn to sit in Matías’s room anyway, and I understand why you would want to visit his studio, especially if you are already in the neighborhood.”
