Page 100 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
I eyed the clock, ticking seven on the dot.
The time for my appointment with Death had come and gone.
According to ritual, Death had left a golden maté gourd the day before, flowers and swirls etched in the top, perfect for drinking the earthy concoction, and a note, providing the location for our meeting today at six p.m.—a restaurant near the opening of the catacombs.
Of course it would fall on my first anniversary with Diego.
It was like Death was spying on me, waiting just beyond the veil. Instinct told me it was on purpose. It had to be.
It wasn’t like I could call Death.
All our meetings were one-way affairs. I got the item and a time. That was how it worked.
I had no way of rescheduling. And I had never considered asking to before, but ...
I thought about it as I stirred the cream. Diego had said he had something special planned—even life-changing.
I loved Diego: not in the all-consuming way I had loved others in the past, but in a gentle, easy way. He was a tender place to land, which was ironic because he’d fallen off a roof when we first met. Diego’s love was simple—uncomplicated. It wasn’t uncontrollable passion that would burn too fast, but it would be enough for as long as it lasted.
Death would be happy, right? I knew he wanted to prove me wrong, but he cared for my welfare. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shown up at that club in LA all those years ago. I was better—less brittle. I had gathered more stories and was ready to meet his challenge. I could have one day, couldn’t I? After all, I had never missed a meeting before.
At ten minutes after six, when I hadn’t heard anything, it occurred to me that maybe everything would be fine. I’d left a message for the maître d’. Surely that would be enough. Diego and I would have dinner at home that night, and I’d have everything ready for Death the next day.
At half past six, I started to breathe.
And at seven, I finally started to relax.
It was one time. I hadn’t heard anything. I could see it as a good sign.
I had been on time for all our meetings. One wouldn’t be a problem, would it?
Death would understand.
Wouldn’t he?
The thought had barely left my head when a hand reached out, snaking around my waist and yanking me backward.
“Diego!”
He pulled me closer, nuzzling my neck in that sensitive spot below my ear. “That smells delicious,mi vida. Is it almost as sweet as you?”
“You startled me!” My heart was hammering. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He frowned quizzically. “But who else would it be?”
Who, indeed?I pushed the thought away as I pushed him physically from the kitchen, swatting him with a pot holder as he reached for the saucepan lid. “Well, it shouldn’t be you. Get out of the kitchen. No sweet talk here. You’re going to ruin the surprise.”
“You know you must watch the time on the steak—it’s a delicate thing.”
“You and your meat. I’ve got it,” I said, pushing him through the door. “I won’t burn it again. Give me a little credit.”
His laughter faded as he made himself at home in the living room, watching commentators debate over afútbolmatch.
We hadn’t moved in together, but he was here as much as he was at his place. Undoubtedly, the question would come soon. I wondered about it as I stirred the side dish of stewed tomatoes, turning down the heat so it wouldn’t burn. What would a life fully together look like?
Over the past year, I’d learned all the ways we fit and all the ways we didn’t. If we moved into my place, Diego would want to have a workout room and an area for making music, and I found myself reluctant to give up my writing space, complete with shelves for my books and trunk. I could afford another place where we could have it all, but that would get harder to explain, since he still didn’t know my secret.
Diego and I had quit the travel agency after another three months of dating. I told him a mysterious uncle had left me some money, with explicit instructions to blow it all on love and travel. Something about him reminded me of the way I used to be. Openhearted.
