More Than Words(18)
“Maybe you wanted what?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the table, his dark brown eyes focusing in on her.
“Maybe I wanted you to tell me about how superstitious you are,” she answered, her tired brain back in action, deflecting, defending.
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes gentle. It seemed like he understood she’d revealed a piece of herself she wasn’t quite comfortable sharing. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to answer.
Finally, he knelt down next to her. “I can’t believe I’m going to show this to you.” He pulled his T-shirt away from his neck, matching her reveal with one of his own. “Look in my collar. Right near the tag.”
She looked at the soft skin at the nape of his neck, and then quickly shifted her eyes to his collar. Pinned to the fabric with a gold-colored safety pin was a black stone dangling on a short chain. “What’s that?” she asked.
“An azabache,” he said. “My abuela pinned it on my shirt the day I was born. I haven’t gone a day without wearing it since. It’s supposed to keep away the evil eye.”
Rafael let his shirt go and turned around.
“Do you believe it does?” she asked, curious.
“My abuela did,” he said. “And I . . . I don’t know. I mean, nothing truly terrible has happened in my life so far, I guess. And there have been a lot of good things.” He looked at her in a way that made Nina wonder if he counted her as one of those good things. “Can I definitively say that it’s not the azabache?”
Nina thought about that. And thought briefly about the fact that he didn’t count his divorce as something truly terrible. Or his father’s death. “I guess you can’t,” she answered. “Unless . . .”
Rafael put up his hand. “I know what you’re going to say. Unless I took it off and saw if my luck changed without it pinned to my collar. My college roommate suggested the same thing years ago. I’m not willing to try that. Especially not on primary day.”
Nina laughed. “I agree,” she said. “Today is not the day to experiment with luck. And honestly? It can’t hurt, right?”
“Plus it makes me feel like my abuela is with me,” Rafael added, standing up. “But if she were here, she’d tell me to read version B. Not to tempt fate.”
Every new thing Nina learned about Rafael made her want to ask questions about his past, his family, his childhood—not the kind of questions she asked as a speechwriter, but the kind she’d ask of a close friend.
“Then let’s not tempt fate,” she said. “But it’s closing in on two. Are you sure you want to stay this late? You can always give it a read in a few hours, after we’ve slept and showered and changed.”
Rafael looked at Nina again with an expression she couldn’t quite figure out. It was a combination of emotions, really. Puzzlement? Longing? Apology?
“Why wouldn’t I want to stay?” he asked.
Nina bit her lip. There were so many answers, but she didn’t want to get into any of them. Not when Rafael was leaning over her shoulder again, his breath hot and sweet against her cheek, making her shiver just slightly. “Forget I even asked,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”
And while Rafael began to read, Nina ignored the thrill she got from hearing her words from his lips. Hotelier’s Daughter Fired after Secret Relationship with Candidate Revealed, Nina thought. Joseph Gregory’s Daughter Cheats on Longtime Beau with Boss.
Her father was always so proud of their family’s reputation. And she was, too. Scandal and affair weren’t the words she wanted to be her contribution to the Gregory legacy. There weren’t any skeletons in their closets, no poorly treated employees, nothing to tarnish their name or their corporation.
She couldn’t be the one to change that. Especially not now.
19
The following night the whole campaign staff was gathered around the TV. The polls had just closed, and they were waiting for the reports. The numbers were looking good, up in some neighborhoods they hadn’t been expecting—news that had Jorge doing his version of a touchdown dance.
“Rafael’s really going to win the primary,” Jane said. “And if he does, ninety-ten says we’re working on the campaign of the very first Latino mayor of New York City.”
“I was a true believer from the beginning,” Mac told Jane. “Everyone said I was nuts to take this campaign manager job, but I knew.”
“The way you know about a good melon?” Nina quipped.
Mac looked at her funny. Jane laughed.
“She’s quoting from When Harry Met Sally,” Jane explained.
“Oh,” Mac answered. “I didn’t know people like you watched normal movies.”
Nina looked at him askance but didn’t say anything.
“Are you serious?” Jane said. “Nina’s totally normal. She just wears shoes that cost more than my rent. And uses seasons as verbs. But other than that, she’s like that magazine spread ‘Heiresses are just like us!’”
Nina had friends—like Priscilla—who wore their parents’ money like a badge of honor. But once Nina had heard about the loans that Leslie had to take out to go to college, she felt a little bit ashamed of how easy she’d had it. Working outside her own bubble gave her perspective. It was another reason she liked being part of the campaign. She looked down quickly at her Manolos. Maybe she wouldn’t wear them to the office again.