“That you mistrust me?”
I flinched at his directness. “Well, yes. No, I mean, what did you tell her?”
“The official story. That I’m retiring.”
“But it’s not true.”
“Actually, it is.”
“But you weren’t, were you, when you signed me?”
“Things have changed since.”
“Because of Beatriz?”
“Among other reasons.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I have been an agent for over ten years. Ten great years. Good things are not meant to last forever.”
“What will you do now?”
“Something exciting, I’m sure,” he said lightly. But his eyes avoided mine.
I waited for he hesitated as if he were about to add something. But just then, the phone rang.
Bécquer looked at the number on the caller ID and scowled. “Would you mind?”
He grabbed the phone when I said no, and after the required greeting was over, put the caller on hold. “I apologize but I do have to take this. David will walk you to the door.”
As if on cue, there was a knock and David came in.
“It has been a pleasure working with you, Carla.”
His handshake was firm, his voice professional, and the mind behind his guarded stare already miles away.
“Likewise,” I said and meant it. For meeting him had been a pleasure, before the events that followed turned my life into a nightmare. And now our parting would put an end to the nightmare and things would return to normal. But, although I was perfectly aware that I was the one who had rejected him as my agent, the one who had refused to give him my blood, I didn’t want to leave. Only his casual dismissal, his unconcealed eagerness to return to his call stopped me from asking him to forget everything I had ever told him and begging him to take me back.
Instead, I tore my eyes from his perfect features, lit now by a smile that was not meant for me, and followed David to the hall.
Somehow I managed to stay still while I waited for David to bring me my coat and my umbrella. I even managed to thank him, and not to trip as I climbed down the stairs. and walked back to my car.
The Honda Civic was gone. Which meant it was Rachel’s car, I thought as I ran to mine, the rain pounding on my head because I had not bothered to open my umbrella. After unlocking the car door, I threw my purse and umbrella on the back seat and climbed inside. Finally safe from unwanted stares, I leaned back against my seat and let the sense of loss wash over me.
It was done. I had severed my connection with the immortals. My children were safe, and my life back to where it had been before meeting Bécquer.
Except it wasn’t. For I had met him and fallen for him. And, for all my reassurances that I would soon forget him, leaving still hurt.
A sharp knock startled me. But when I blinked my eyes open, the only sound I heard was that of the water hitting my windshield.
I reached forward to start the car. Again, I heard the sound, a persistent tap coming from my right. And as I turned toward the sound, I saw a face framed in the window. Richard’s face.
I was so surprised to see him there that I just stared. Then, before I could hit the button to lower the window, Richard opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat.
“I hope you don’t mind my intruding,” he said, while my eyes took in his smart trench coat glistening with rain. “But you did say you could drive me to the station. Does your offer still stand?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Good.” He shot a nervous look over his shoulder. “Then let’s get out of here before Bécquer sees us together and calls me back.”
Chapter Fifteen: Richard
“I was waiting for you in David’s car,” Richard explained as I put the car in reverse.
“Why? Why didn’t you leave with Rachel?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you.” His voice sounded tense, and a quick glance at him as I looked over my shoulder to make sure it was safe to back up my car, was met with a cold stare from his pale blue eyes.
My stomach sank with apprehension. Was Richard thinking of breaking his contract with me now that Bécquer didn’t represent me anymore? Despite my previous realization that my interest in Bécquer overruled my desire to get published, the thought hurt more that I cared to admit.
“About our contract?” I asked, glad that the sound of gravel cracking under the tires and the constant pelting of the rain had drowned the quiver in my voice.
Richard snorted. “The contract? Is that all you care about?”
Too shocked by the suppressed anger boiling in his questions, I said nothing.
“Could you at least pretend you care for Bécquer a little after all he has done for you?”
I stopped the car at the end of the driveway, and turned to him. “Would you please explain what this is about? You’re obviously upset with me and I’ve no idea why.”
Richard stared at me for a long time. Finally, he ran his fingers through his blonde curls that, wet with rain fell flat over his forehead, and shook his head. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” I was angry now because something in his expression had scared me, and anger seemed a better option than to follow up in that fear.
“I see you don’t,” Richard said. “Could you please drive on? I’ll tell you what I know, I promise. But I’ve already missed the five-thirty train and I’d like to get home before nine. I have to walk my dogs.”
I hesitated for a moment then nodded my agreement. After taking a deep breath to release the tension building in my muscles, I turned on to the road and headed toward Princeton.
“First, I want to apologize for my harsh words,” Richard started, his voice loud enough to be heard over the grating sound of the windshield wipers. “I assumed Bécquer had shared the news with you, and I was appalled by your lack of concern.”
“News? The only news Bécquer ever shared with me was in regard to my book. Bécquer is my agent, Richard. He does not discuss his personal life with me.”
“You mean, he never told you about his car accident on Halloween night? He did say he had been the only one hurt, but because you two left the party together, I thought you had been involved in the crash.”
A car accident on Halloween night? So that had been Bécquer’s official story. So that was why Richard was worried, because Bécquer had been hurt? He was right to be concerned, for his wounds had been serious, fatal even, had he been human. But Bécquer was immortal, and thus Richard’s concern, unwarranted.
Relieved that a simple misunderstanding was behind Richard’s fears, I loosened my grip on the wheel, and answered him lightly. “No, I wasn’t with him.”
“You don’t seem surprised, though.”
“I wasn’t with him when the accident happened. But I did know about it.”
“You knew?” Anger crawled back into his voice. “You knew and you don’t care? You knew and yet, today, you come to the meeting and act as if nothing has happened and never even ask him how he’s doing?”
“I — ” I started, then stopped, confused. Why was Richard mad at me? Bécquer had told me he was almost healed when we talked the previous Tuesday. And today he had looked perfectly all right.
But when I told Richard this, he was not appeased.
“Bécquer is not all right, Carla. He will never walk again.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, then, when their meaning finally hit me, my mind went blank. My body reacted instinctively and my foot pushed hard on the brakes. The tires skidded on the wet road, causing the car to swerve in and out of the right lane.
Richard yelled and reached for the wheel. I pushed him hard, rejecting his help, rejecting his words. But his scream had broken the standstill in my mind and my brain was once again in charge of my body, and soon I had the car under control. Somehow I steered it into the shoulder and brought it to a halt.