Page 55 of Kissing Games
He hesitated.
‘Come on, I won’t bite.’
There was a pause, then one of Charlie’s eyebrows lifted. Her face flushed.
He kicked off his boots and climbed into bed beside her. ‘I’d be a “completa idiota” if I turned that offer down. Even though you’re wearing more layers than a mummy.’ He tucked the covers around her and passed her mug back.
They sat in happy silence, sipping hot chocolate and watching the flickering flames of the fire. Valentina couldn’t remember ever being so content outside the embrace of her family. As the drink started to warm her from the inside out, she snuck glances across at him. He was in her bed! Butterflies fluttered in her tummy.
‘Where did the last fifty years go?’ he mused.
‘What?’
His green eyes were dancing. ‘Well, it would appear we’ve bypassed the “falling in love” phase, the “settling down and having children” phase, and have fast-forwarded to the “sitting fully clothed in bed together drinking hot chocolate” phase of our lives. You’re even wearing a woolly hat.’
She smiled shyly. ‘So, we’ve managed to have children without, er, you know, um…’
He tilted his head and waited for her to finish, the corners of his mouth twitching.
‘You know,’ she whispered. ‘Doingit.’
Charlie’s shoulders shook as he unsuccessfully tried to hold back his amusement. Sparkles fizzed through her. His face was gorgeous without expression, but when he laughed, it shone brighter than the sun.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’ve got four, maybe six kids. I told you earlier you were a goddess. You’ve created them without…’ He paused, then whispered, ‘…Doingit.’
She looked into her mug.
‘Your powers are limitless. You even managed to turn Charlotte into Charlie in a freezing loch. That’s more challenging than turning water into wine.’
‘You’re…’ She broke off, shaking her head.
‘Good-looking? Witty? Charming? Or still a dickhead?’
She stared at him, trying to sum up everything he was in life and to her. ‘You’re all of that and so much more. You’re extraordinary,’ she replied softly.
She saw the surprise on his face, the slight tension around his eyes as they became liquid, the set of his jaw. He swallowed. She finished her drink and set it on the bedside table, then snuggled up to him, snaking her arm under the covers and hugging across the expanse of his chest. He carefully put his arm around her. By the side wall she saw her new suitcase; beside it on the floor, her rucksack. Her heart was too full to hold everything in any more. She needed to release the pressure.
‘Alejandro is my younger brother,’ she said quietly. ‘He died because of me.’
She felt his chest stop moving as he held his breath. The sound of the crackling fire filled the silence. He put his drink down and held her with both arms, stroking one hand slowly up and down her back, his breath returning. There was nothing hurried about his touch, no interrogation. He just waited for her to speak. She couldn’t remember the last time she had told the story out loud. Maybe she had never truly articulated her version of events.
‘He was born ten months after me, an unplanned surprise. We grew up like twins. We were…’ She crossed her fingers together against his chest and he hugged her a little tighter. ‘We were so close. And we were crazy. Oh, we were wild.’ She paused, allowing the memories to come trickling in. ‘Ale grew his hair longer, and I cut mine short so it matched his. Abuelita would tie ribbons in my hair and I would run outside and rip them out. We were the same size, so I wore Ale’s clothes. We fooled everyone, sometimes even Mamá and Papá. We ran around barefoot, knocking on doors and running away. Stealing fruit, knocking over trash cans. We were known locally as “los pequeños salvajes”, the little savages.’
Valentina closed her eyes and saw Ale’s fierce face, his sun-browned skin, his black eyes, his tousled hair. She felt him grab her hand, the two of them running together through the back alleys behind the village houses, kicking up clouds of red dust. They were going to take on the world and win.
‘My parents despaired,’ she continued. ‘They thought we were going to get into serious trouble. Then Abuelo died and we got even worse, stealing money, skipping school, riding the buses all day eating candy. So, when we were eleven, my parents sent us to different secondary schools. Ale had to take a bus for over an hour each way to his and I went to a very strict, all-girls school. Things were never the same again. Just over a year later, in a school play, I was seen by one of the producers ofLa Vida Familiarand went with Abuela to live in Bogota.’
Charlie kissed the top of her head through her hat. She hugged him tighter, a yearning pain in her heart for what once was and what could never be.
‘The school he went to was rough. He fell in with a bad crowd. We didn’t know until it was too late, until he was arrested for selling drugs to other kids. My parents took him out but he was angry. He wanted freedom. He wanted to travel the world.’ She opened her eyes and indicated the bag with her head. ‘The rucksack is his. He was going to go to every country and cover his bag with their flags.’ She paused, staring at the Colombian flag Charlie had fixed. ‘I was becoming famous and people thought my family was rich. It was a dangerous time in Colombia.
One day Ale got in another fight over me. But this guy had a gun. The producers allowed me one day off for the funeral. I hardly remember anything about that day. It was so quiet. Nobody cried. We were all paralysed with shock. But I remember speaking to God. I stood in the church and promised I would not be bad ever again. I would dedicate my life to getting my family out.’ She looked up at him; the gold streaks in his eyes were like flames. ‘And I almost have. I’m almost there.’
He raised his eyebrows slightly as if asking how.
She shuffled out of his hold and brought her tablet back to the bed. ‘I still send them money, but not as much as I want as they get so cross.’ She shook her head in exasperation with them. ‘So, I’ve been saving to buy this.’ She found the website and passed the tablet to him.
‘Angel Park estates?’
