Love, in Spanish
A Novel
By Karina Halle
Also by Karina Halle
The Experiment in Terror Series
Darkhouse (EIT #1)
Red Fox (EIT #2)
The Benson (EIT #2.5)
Dead Sky Morning (EIT #3)
Lying Season (EIT #4)
On Demon Wings (EIT #5)
Old Blood (EIT #5.5)
The Dex-Files (EIT #5.7)
Into the Hollow (EIT #6)
And With Madness Comes the Light (EIT #6.5)
Come Alive (EIT #7)
Ashes to Ashes (EIT #8)
Dust to Dust (EIT #9) – July 2014
Novels by Karina Halle
The Devil’s Metal (Devils #1)
The Devil’s Reprise (Devils #2)
Sins and Needles (The Artists Trilogy #1)
On Every Street (An Artists Trilogy Novella #0.5)
Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)
Bold Tricks (The Artists Trilogy #3)
Donners of the Dead
Love, in English
Love, in Spanish
Dirty Angels
Coming Soon
Dirty Deeds
Where Sea Meets Sky (Simon & Schuster, March 2015)
Dirty Promises
Racing the Sun (Simon & Schuster, July 2015)
First edition published by
Metal Blonde Books November 2014
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Karina Halle
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover design by Najla Qamber
Edited by Kara Malinczak
Photographer: Scott Hoover
Mateo wrangler: Ellie @ Love N Boys
Metal Blonde Books
P.O. Box 845
Point Roberts, WA
98281 USA
Manufactured in the USA
For more information about the series and author visit:
http://authorkarinahalle.com/
A Note from the Author
Thank YOU for reading Love, in Spanish. As noted in the book description, this novel is the sequel to Love, in English and should be read afterward. It is not a rehash of the book and though it is told from Mateo Casalles’s POV, Love, in Spanish is in fact a whole new story, taking place one year later. I hope you’ll enjoy these characters and their heart-breaking journey to a happily-ever-after.
Please note this book contains the first chapter of my upcoming new adult contemporary romance novel, Where Sea Meets Sky, to be published through Atria Books (a division of Simon & Schuster) in March 2015. Because of the excerpt, the percentages may be off in your e-reader.
Happy reading!
Karina Halle
Dedication
For all of those who heard it was impossible and went for it anyway.
Love is always worth it.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Also by Karina Halle
Copyright Page
A Note from the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
About the Author
Excerpt from Where Sea Meets Sky
Prologue
I am in love with a villain.
At least, she calls herself a villain. I’m not sure if the meaning is lost in translation—Vera does speak with a lot of English slang—or if she is being literal. But I do not see her as a villain. I see her as a girl, as a woman, as a friend, and as a lover. I see her as my star, one she thinks has burned too much for the both of us.
She is not wrong. We both have burned, and in some ways, gladly. There have been many risks that were worth taking and many times that we have fallen, but we always fall together. Our journey has never been easy. The only thing easy in all of this is my love for her. It is pure, it is simple, and it is true.
One would think that after all we have been through together, the tears and the torment, the witch hunts and the slander, at some point the path would become clear, smooth, and even.
But the road only twists and turns. It is forever uphill, forever testing us.
Through it all we have each other, two exiled souls. We pay for our sins with each kiss, we feel our mistakes with each touch.
And despite all that, I fear the day when it all becomes easy.
I fear that’s the day when she’ll be taken away.
My lover, my friend, my star.
She can only shine for so long.
Until she is gone for good.
Chapter One
My dearest Estrella,
I am writing this letter in hopes you will one day read it. I am not sure if I have the strength to place it in your hand, or if you’ll read this from home in Canada. That is your home, is it not? Not here, with me in Madrid. I don’t deserve that. I would ask for you to pardon my English but I believe you have pardoned enough of me so far.
All I can say is that I’m sorry. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento. And it is not enough. I know it is not enough. To tell you how much my heart is bleeding with you gone is not enough. To tell you that you are my stars and my moon and my universe…it is not enough. I don’t know if anything will be enough to take back the pain I have caused you. I don’t know if anything will be enough to make things right.
I am wounded, my dear angel, and I fear you are wounded too.
I will not make excuses. But I will explain where I went wrong and why it happened. It doesn’t change anything, but if you can understand the shoes I am in, maybe you will know…
I never wanted to hurt you.
I know you saw me and Isabel on the street. When I looked up, I saw you running away. You stand out on the streets of Madrid like a sore thumb, but that does not sound very flattering, does it? Funny little phrase. You stand out—always—to me. I feel as if we are connected in ways I cannot even begin to understand, and when you are near, I know. My heart races. It is a peculiar thing, this heart, is it not?
I know that after the night before, seeing me kiss her must have hurt like an arrow in your chest. But nothing is the way that you see it. But before I begin, I must go back. I must start from where I think the threads began to unravel.
When we first parted ways in Las Palabras, I knew I would see you again. I knew I would do whatever I had to in order to bring you back into my life. When I said I couldn’t see the stars from the city, I was not kidding. The skies here are dark and grey, and so was my heart, so was my life.
Chloe Ann was the only bright spot in my day, and soon I knew I had to make a decision. Do I stay with Isabel for my daughter’s sake? Or do I risk it for you?
As you know, I risked it. I figured, vainly perhaps, that if I stayed unhappy with Isabel, Chloe Ann would be able to tell and she would be unhappy too. Children are smarter than we give them credit for, are they not? And so I thought I had to end it. I was not happy. I knew Isabel was not happy. There was more to my black and white world than the path I was supposed to stick to.
You brought me colors and stars and cosmos and wonders. I wanted you s
o badly, craved you so much, that I knew I would suffer whatever bad things would come my way. There would be repercussions for my actions—I knew this, and I knew no one but you would understand.
Life is full of hard choices.
I chose you.
Isabel could hardly believe it. I can’t blame her. In some ways, I couldn’t believe it either. That I was doing this, taking this step, and risking it all on you. You, Vera, were the unknown. You still are. But I had faith in what we had, that our connection was more than lust and romance…it was deeper and brighter than that.
No one believed me. Why should they? They see it happen all the time, the man approaching middle-age, trading in his wife for a younger one. They said I was thinking with my cock, that I was caught up in the sex and the shiny new thing that you were. Of course, I was enamored with you, of course the sex was better than I could have ever imagined. But they didn’t understand the truth behind all of it. They didn’t believe I was in love with you.
I don’t even think you believed it. But of course I am, more now than ever. And love makes you do silly things.
In what you would call hindsight, I see now that it was reckless and impulsive of me to ask you to move to Spain. I should have waited until the divorce was final. I should have waited until you were out of school.
I was foolish and very selfish and very scared. I could only see you, only think of you. I just wanted you here so badly, and I was afraid that if I waited, you would leave me. You would find someone better, someone your own age with less baggage. Sometimes it surprises me that you could even want me at all.
But you did. You agreed to come here, and even though I knew deep down it would be better for everyone if we waited until the dust settled, I risked it. I would have walked over burning coals for you, just to have you in my arms. I would have put the whole world in jeopardy just to be inside you again.
I should have been the adult here. I should have known better. But my heart got the best of me. I brought you here, right into the flames. I thought I could shelter you from the heat, that I could protect you, that I could ride out the inferno with you safely under my arm.
But I was wrong. And because of my recklessness, you had to suffer. I had to suffer. My daughter had to suffer. Everyone is suffering.
And you are gone.
The other night when Isabel showed up, that was the hardest night of my life, harder than the night we made love at Las Palabras, knowing we had to say goodbye the next day.
I never wanted it to happen that way. I never wanted Isabel to see you, nor you to see her. I knew you were already wrapped in guilt, and I knew Isabel would only hurt. She is a beautiful woman and she is still young. But seeing you—so fresh and shining so brightly, it would have only destroyed her, made her feel old, weak, useless. Those feelings would turn to anger, and her anger is a sharp and dangerous object.
But you came to the lobby—I cannot fault your curiosity—and the two of you met. Isabel was destroyed, and her drunken anger took over. You could only watch.
I could only watch.
I wanted to defend you. In my heart I did. But to your eyes I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I told you that one day I’d have to choose between you and Chloe Ann. I suppose at that moment, I had to make that choice. I had to play right by Isabel. I couldn’t choose you, because if I did, I would lose all contact with Chloe Ann. I was at Isabel’s mercy, and she had me by the balls.
It is complicated. It is so complicated. All these threads and knots wrapped around all of our necks, tying us to one another. If one moves, the other feels it, loses air. I defended Isabel, and the rope tightened around your throat. If I defended you, the rope would be severed between me and my daughter.
I cannot expect you to understand. You are not a parent. You don’t have to make the horrible choices—or maybe you do. Maybe you just made a horrible choice of your own by leaving me. All I can say is there is no winning. How do you choose between your own flesh and blood and the love of your life? You can’t really…I could only choose because Chloe Ann is young and needs me. She wouldn’t understand the choice. But you, Vera, you might understand. You might see where I am coming from. You might be able to forgive me.
Please forgive me.
That night I went back home. I don’t feel I have to assure you that nothing happened between Isabel and I—but nothing did happen. I talked to Chloe Ann. I tried to make as much peace with Isabel as I could in her drunken state. I at least got her to calm down. I slept on the couch.
The next morning, I woke up early and made breakfast. The three of us sat together, as a family, for the last time. Isabel was terribly hung over but she had softened. Perhaps she finally saw how over it was and how there would be no us, no going back. What was done was done.
So we put on sad smiles and ate, and Chloe Ann was delighted to have us all back together. Our smiles got sadder.
Then Isabel drove me home.
You see, love is a strange thing. It can disappear completely. It can leave you, so far gone it is just a mark on the horizon, and you wonder how you ever felt love to begin with. But even with it gone, fragments still remain. There are imprints. You can destroy a house and ruin it to the ground but you’ll see indents in the earth, the way the ground is different where the house once was.
We talked, Isabel and I, for a long time. She was still angry, bitter, as I expect she’ll be for a long time. I would be too, if I were in her shoes. Perhaps this is what makes everything so much harder, that I know how others see me, that what I’ve done is reprehensible to them. But she had relented to what was, to the new reality. And in our words about the past and the present and the future, I could see the remains of what once was, see the ghost of our marriage, that time when we had a bit of hope for each other.
I am not in love with Isabel. I am in love with you. I do not even love Isabel. I love you. But for that moment, I cared about her more than I had in a long time. I worried for her. I wanted to make things right, even though it seemed impossible. Perhaps it was because I knew this was really the end, and it was time for us both to move on for good.
I kissed her goodbye without a second thought. It is in my nature to be physical. It is in my nature to be tender. There was no meaning in it except for sinking into old habits and the bittersweet notion of saying goodbye. You see, though I no longer love Isabel, the ghost of the marriage still remained. I said goodbye to that ghost.
Of course, I know how that all looked to you, and I cannot blame you for running, blame you for leaving. Things had gotten hard, and I was shouldering so much, hoping you could shoulder it too. I should have never put you in this position and dragged you all the way here when things were so unbalanced, but fools are those who fall in love, and I was a fool. I still am. And for any grief and pain I have caused you, my dearest Estrella, I am deeply sorry.
All I can say is, if I ever get a chance again, I will not mess it up. I will be good to you. I will be better than good. And I will fight. Even if you pull away, I will pull you back. I just hope you have enough room in your heart for a tired old fool like me who still makes mistakes when he should know better.
I love you.
Come back to me, my Estrella.
Mateo.
I stare at the letter in my hands as I do every night when I wake up and can’t fall back asleep. I can barely see from the light filtering in through the curtains, but I know every word, every sentence, by heart. This is to remind me what I’m fighting for, to remind me how hard it was when Vera left me nearly a year ago.
I never gave her the letter. I’ve explained, in person, the feelings I expressed in it. I brushed away her doubts when they came crawling—she has so many of them sometimes. But I never gave it to her. There was no need. I wrote the letter and sat in my apartment, my head in my hands, my heart breaking, and I realized it wasn’t enough.
Vera deserved more than just a letter. She deserved everything I had. With some difficulty I was abl
e to speak with Vera’s brother and mother in Vancouver and offer to buy her flight home. I told her mother—prickly thing that she is—that Vera needed to be with family, those that love her.
I love her. She is my family.
It was a gamble. I didn’t know if she’d even be on the plane, let alone willing to forgive me. So I took the time to make sure everything was right. I spoke to Isabel, several times, and did my best to try and get her to see my point of view. I didn’t want to lose joint custody of Chloe Ann; I didn’t want her to grow up without a father.
Isabel almost relented. It took padding the settlement with extra cash to finally get her to agree. Of course, it was worth it. To have my daughter, I would have paid anything.
To have Vera back, I would have done everything.
Once I was at the airport, I waited in the background as the plane boarded. I was sure I looked suspicious, but I didn’t want to give Vera a reason to back out. I felt her before I saw her, her aura pulling me in like gravity. She looked absolutely beautiful, so much so that I could barely stand on my own two feet and watch as she walked past. Radiant pain spread through my chest, and I was certain I was having a heart attack. But it was just the impact of seeing her and the pain that I might still lose her in the end.
I’m normally a confident man—my career has instilled that in me. But at that moment, I felt drained of it. I headed to the washroom to splash water on my face. I stared at myself in the mirror and didn’t see a confident man in a sharp suit. I saw a little boy whose heart lay in someone else’s hands.
I walked on the plane last minute and readied myself as I made my way down the aisle. I ignored the annoyed stares of the people who had to wait for me, and held my breath until I saw her.
Vera’s body was angled toward the window, her hair covering her face. She looked both small and wild, and I itched to touch those shiny curls that ran down her back, the color of orange cream. The woman on the aisle was staring at me with blatant disappointment—she thought she wouldn’t have anyone sitting next to her the whole trip. Little did she know, all my attention would be on the other seat during the flight.