III

Evening

The only hint of brightness around was the moonlight that came in through the narrow window. She had blown the candle off and gotten into bed a while back, yet falling asleep wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Holding on to the only pillow, her eyes were focused on the door's bolt or where she estimated it was, given the almost complete darkness: it was locked.

A hundred times during the previous hour she had felt the impulse of getting up and undoing it, just wait for him as usual, welcome him with a kiss and (try to) forget about the realities that loomed over them now more than ever. But she didn't. She'd only keep bracing herself and wondering once again if she could really do this, just lock him out of her life.

When she heard the knob twisting and the door being slightly pushed once, then twice, to no end, then a pause and a few seconds later, his presence fading away, she had her answer.

Something like a fountain of ache and desperation opened up inside her chest and exploded in tears. She should have opened up, she shouldn't have… she should have… done nothing, done something else, talk to him, not this. Because this hurt more. The pain of even attempting to get away from him was worse than the certainty of their doomed future. Or maybe they were equally bad, but at least when they were together, every second was perfect and worth it.

It's worth it, Diego. It's always been.

She finally began dozing off, and as she did, she became more convinced that he was right there by her side, and could almost smell him and hear his voice so close to her.

(...)

Josefina was watering the last couple of plants at the patio, when a wave of cold heat chilled her skin:

"Good morning."

"Good morning" she replied, not being quite able to make eye contact with him, just glancing in his general direction for an instant.

And even when she turned back to the peonies and the water that sprinkled their ground, she could feel his eyes on her, same way she felt the morning sun on her skin.

"Josefi-"

He interrupted himself and she could feel it too: the change in his demeanor, a change in the air.

"Ah, father, I was looking for you."

It wouldn't hurt dampening a bit more the plants she had already watered, would it?

"Do you have the papers?" don Alejandro was coming down the stairs.

"Right here."

"Very well. I think we will have time to talk to don Alfredo before, if we hurry."

"Bernardo is preparing the horses."

She heard them leave and finally stopped drowning the poor flowers.

Good morning, Diego. Good morning.

(...)

The last sheet of paper of the contract was placed along with the rest: everything was in order. Diego took another puff of the cigar and yet another look at the gold watch in his pocket: eleven forty. Everyone at home should be long asleep; still, he preferred to wait another quarter of an hour.

Through the secret passage and to the living room, then down the corridor, he sharpened his ears before and after every corner, a casual excuse or comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to be delivered if necessary. But there was no one and nothing around, not even the faraway neigh of a horse somewhere outside.

There was the door. This time, it wasn't locked.

Josefina met his eyes in the orangey light of the candle. She had spent the entire day pondering what to say; and she didn't want to ask this, but it just came out:

"Are you going to marry her?" He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him: "Tell me the truth."

"I have always told you the truth."

"Well, keep doing it. Are you going to marry her?"

"Of course not." She had been preparing herself for a yes. And even now that she'd heard a no, a little voice in some corner of her mind told her that eventually, some elegant and pretty señorita would come along and it would be a yes.

But not now. Don't think about that.

He continued: "I do not love her and I don't think I would ever get to do it. She may be charming and beautiful, but beneath all of that, there isn't much else, at least not for me. Not that a gentleman should be saying this, but I am saying it to you, and you alone, because you and I share… what we share."

She knew his face so well, his features and expressions, in the light of day and in the dimness of her room. She knew the truth in them, now and always.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Please, don't apologize to me. Ever. Nothing you do needs to be forgiven."

"Then I'm not sorry."

"Would you forgive me?"

"What for?"

"I didn't mean to cause you any harm. That is the last thing I would want."

"What you cause me, Diego, I'm allowing it."

"Still."

That kiss tasted like they hadn't kissed in ages.

(...)

After he was gone, she was ready and willing to go to sleep; she had to go to the market with Cresencia in the morning. She tossed and turned for a while, thinking about what had just transpired. It was relieving in a way… however stupid that might sound. She had chosen all of this, hadn't she? And she kept choosing it every day that she fell more and more in love. She chose it that night, almost a year before...

The memory of it accompanied her as she fell asleep:

Josefina sat on the border of the bed, hands on her lap and heart racing a thousand miles per hour. Her own bedroom seemed strange and out of place, like she hadn't seen a single one of those specific objects ever before. She saw him pull the chair that was usually on the corner and sit in front of her.

"We are both aware that my being here is not appropriate."

She nodded. He continued: "However, I think we both want it."

"I do."

The two words and the sound of her own voice appeared odd as well, and that's when she realized: everything seemed foreign… except for him and the way he took her hand between his:

"Are you having an inner battle?"

"Sí, something like that."

"So am I. I don't want to do anything that you will regret later on. But at the same time, I want to be with you."

I could not regret anything that involves you, she thought.

That did not make it any less scary, so what was there to do but put her head on his right shoulder and let him hold her and stay that way until God knows when.

How does this even work?

What am I doing?

And why can't I stop?

Oh, I know the answer to that one:

I love him.

To think that, in the morning, she had ironed this very jacket he was wearing.

"Listen" she heard him, close to her ear: "It's late, why don't we… get into bed and we can sleep for a while? Would you like that?"

She nodded again.

"I don't think… I've been in bed with anyone else for a long time" she said without thinking, as he tooks his shoes off and she imitated him: "I mean, when my cousin was sick, we were taking care of her and I did stay with her for a bit and... maybe with my aunt when I was, I don't know, little, maybe when I had a nightmare and I would crawl into her bed,+ and maybe my mother though I don't remember, but I can be sure of one thing, I've never been in bed with a man, let alone the patron."

They had been sitting side by side on the bed; then, he lied back:

"Patron? Am I the patron?"

"Last time I checked, yes."

"Well, don't check. I don't want to be the patron, not with you. I'm just Diego and you're… you're shaking."

He took her hand again, kissed it as well.

"No, it's just… well, I'm a little nervous, that's why I'm rambling."

"It's alright. I like when you tell me about your family."

"Like now?"

"Any time."

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I don't know."

The both of them barely fitted in her bed. Either way, she finally did it: she slowly slid down and lied by his side, head on his shoulder and his arm around her.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Uh huh."

"Me too."

"Did you notice your feet are almost hanging out?"

"Almost is the key word. I'm fine. I couldn't be better, in fact."

That summed it up. It couldn't be topped, this feeling of being in his arms like this.

They talked some more, as time around had ceased to exist. He saw her eyelids get heavy and when he covered her with the blanket, she had already fallen asleep. What he didn't know was that she didn't have any dreams, because neither of those could have been compared to this.

(...)

Note 1: I spent a whole day wondering if I should include that last flashback. I decided to do it because I liked the idea of writing it, just because of that XD Not sure if that's enough of a reason to add something into a story.

Note 2: I'm not sure if how things happened in that flashback is realistic (?) or weird (?) or simply out of character for Diego. I did think about making them get intimate like right after the first kiss, the one in the flashback on chapter 2. Like everything just happened at once because they couldn't control themselves or something. But I do feel this was more fitting for them, despite the risk of making it seem like he's planning the whole thing just to get her into bed with him. (Does this make sense?) Let's just keep our faith in Diego; we know him, after all.

Note 3: I recognize I use mostly modern vocabulary and ways to talk; maybe in the decade of 1820 people talked more elegantly, but I don't know, I prefer to write as it comes out, since for me, writing is not something I control with my mind but with my little heart.

Note 4: thanks for reading!