The Paper Swan(70)

“Wow. What a mess.”

I spun around and saw Damian climbing in through the bedroom window. He must have changed and showered on the boat because damn, he looked good. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, black jacket, and jeans. Golden light framed his face as he surveyed the trail of clothes and bags scattered all over the room.

“For you, güerita.” He held out something wrapped in a banana leaf.

I took it from him, aware of the way his eyes were eating me up. I had found a figure-hugging cream dress with long sleeves and a plunging back. It complemented my newly tanned skin and offset the blond roots that were starting to show through my dark hair.

“What’s this?” I asked, unwrapping his gift. Seeing him standing before me, I was suddenly aware of not having held him all day.

“Just returning something.”

“My shoes!” I exclaimed. Gold Louboutins with spiked heels, the ones I had been wearing when he abducted me.

He knelt before me and held out his hand. I gave him one shoe, and then the other, relishing his touch as he slipped them on.

“So what’s the occasion?” I asked.

“I just want to make up for the fact that you missed your birthday this year,” he said. “Also, I just want to make up.”

“You drugged me on my birthday. I don’t even remember what happened that day.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. And I can’t stand it when we’re not talking.”

I was such an ass, but I couldn’t hold a thing against him when he was kissing my neck like that, leaving behind the sweetest, softest string of apologies.

“I’m sorry, too. About yester—”

“Let’s not.” He shushed me. Let’s not apologize for the things we can’t help feeling, the loyalties that are tearing us apart. My mother. Your father. The whole world waiting to see how this will unfold. “Just you and me tonight, okay?”

I nodded and followed him out to the verandah, where he’d set up the table. With one chair.

We ate in silence, no longer taking anything for granted: the way his neck tilted to make room for my nose, how I finished one mouthful to his three, how he ate the parts with the most bones and left the rest of the fish for me, how I smothered everything in gravy and he liked it plain. It was an evening we didn’t want to end. The sand glistened with the warmth of the sunset and the water lapped up in soft, golden waves.

“Dessert?” he asked when we were done.

“Don’t tell me you baked a cake.”

“I have something better in mind.” He led me to the beach, smiling because I refused to take off my newly reclaimed heels.

I followed him to a pile of hot rocks in the sand. The fire had been doused, but the rocks sizzled when Damian sprinkled water on them.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” I smiled.

He uncovered a basket full of black, wrinkly bananas.

“Please tell me you’re not going to make me eat rotten bananas.”

“Hey, I ate your ceviche. Besides, these are not bananas. It’s plantain, and it’s the sweetest at this stage, when the skin has turned all black.” He peeled one, cut it in half lengthwise, and threw it on the stone. When it started to caramelize, Damian poured tequila over it. I squealed as it ignited in a glorious blue-tinged flambé.

“Want some now?” He pried the plantain off the rock and put it on a plate.

I looked at the wrinkly peel and back at the plate. Damian shrugged and popped a piece into his mouth. He lay back, elbows out, fingers interlaced under his head, looking at me. I took a tentative bite. It was warm and sweet and gooey, and so, so good.

“Better than cake?” he asked.

“What’s cake?” I smiled and stretched out next to him.

We alternated between dessert and trying to guess where the next star would appear, as the blue velvet of night unfolded over us.

“Tomorrow,” said Damian.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s the day I visit MaMaLu.”

“You think it’s safe?” My arms tightened around him.

“They’re looking for Damian, not Esteban. Esteban disappeared a long time ago, and there’s nothing to connect him to me, nothing to trace MaMaLu back to me. I don’t think they’ll be staking out the gravesite of a woman no one remembers.”

“I remember,” I said. “You remember.”