Page 95 of One Year Ago in Spain
Matías pushed himself off the plane a moment later.
Claire’s stomach shot up to her throat. She hated falling. She’d thrown up even on the kiddie roller coasters at the county fair. Why would anyone sign up to do this over and over again?
A hand clapped over hers.
It wasn’t Esmeralda’s, so Claire looked over.
Matías had caught up to them, and he threaded his fingers with Claire’s, his right palm clasped against her left. Like when he had kissed her in the studio, he was here but not, his touch a warm pressure against her skin.
She smiled at him, and all of sudden, her fear flew off into the clouds.
He squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back.
And then Claire looked straight down at the earth, at the sunset sky all around her, and she opened her mouth and let out a whoop of pure, unshackled glee.
Matías howled like a jubilant wolf.
And together, they spiraled through the orange and pink sky, holding hands all the way down.
Claire
When their feethit the ground, Esmeralda congratulated Claire, and Claire responded but didn’t remember what she’d said, because all she was focused on was Matías, windblown and ruddy cheeked.
Claire couldn’t stop grinning, even as they walked across the field toward the hangar to return their gear.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Matías said.
“It was. I didn’t think I could like something like that. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me feel safe so I could let go.”
Matías stopped in the middle of the grass, smiling shyly. “Really? I did that?”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “You were exactly what I needed.”
—
After Claire changedand returned her gear, she met Matías outside the hangar.
“Well,” he said. “The last time we spent an evening together, I showed you Madrid. I think it’s your turn. What are we going to do next?”
Claire laughed because it was an echo of her demand afterthey’d walked through the grounds of the Palacio Real and Sabatini Gardens.
But the smile fell quickly off her face because she knew what she really had to do.
“Matías…There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Shoot. Did I dump my green jumpsuit into the bin meant for purple ones? Or did I put my gear in the wrong cubby?” He started to turn back toward the skydiving office, then stopped short. “Wait. Why am I worried about that? I don’t…I’m not the kind of person who even notices there are specific bins for each color.”
Claire twisted her purse strap around and around her finger. “Yeah…That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He raised both hands, like he’d just been caught red-handed. “I did warn you when you came to my studio that I can be messy.”
She smiled a little. “I know. Or, really, Ialreadyknew.”
