Raul
"Raul!"
At the sound of my name, I turn around.
Kate is standing in front of her open bedroom door, her expression hesitant. I walk back toward her slowly. She doesn't move toward me, but neither does she step back.
"What is it?" I say, searching her face. Resisting the urge to grab her shoulders, I clench my fists. "Is something wrong?"
"No!" she says, shaking her head. "Sorry, I just ..." She swallows.
"It's all right." I smile, hoping to reassure her. "Tell me."
"Would you..." She averts her gaze for a moment before looking up at me again. "Would you like to sleep here? Just for tonight."
My eyes move to the room behind her. It's the only other bedroom on this floor, the one her sister uses when she's staying over. She's been sleeping here for two weeks despite my entreaties for her to take the master bedroom if she insisted on having separate rooms.
She follows my gaze to the bed and her eyes grow wide. "Just sleep," she adds quickly. "I mean, in case you didn't want to sleep alone. But only if you want to."
The last sentence trails off in a whisper. As though the idea that I would want to spend the night in her bed is such a farfetched notion she can barely say it out loud.
As though I haven't thought of anything but holding her in my arms again, feeling her soft warm body against mine as I fall asleep.
"I'm all right, Kate," I say, giving her a wry smile. "Tonight's ... incident wasn't pleasant but I'm not traumatized or anything."
"Oh." She smiles brightly. "Good. Good."
"But it would be nice." I clear my throat. "Sleeping here, I mean."
"Okay."
"I'm just going to take a shower, all right?"
She nods. "Right. Of course."
***
As eager as I am to get to bed, I'm desperate for a hot shower, if only as a way to physically wash off the memory and unpleasantness of this evening. Sending Kate home was my way of trying to keep my wife from being tainted by Saldana's death. But there's only so much I can do; she's going to have to deal with it in the morning. Tonight, however, I want to come to her clean and untouched by the tragedy of the death of a man we both knew.
She's in bed by the time I slip into her room. I thought of going to bed wearing pajamas as a way of signaling my pure intentions but decided it would be a little over the top. She knows I only go to bed in boxers so it won't be a surprise to her if I showed up in that. If I wear something else, that will definitely arouse her suspicions. I move as quietly as I can, afraid to break the stillness between us. It feels like a kind of truce, an armistice of some sort. I'm afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing that will shatter it.
The only light in the room is on the nightstand beside my side of the bed. She's lying on her side away from me. I get under the covers and turn off the lamp, and the room is lit only by the moonlight through the windows. As I settle in bed beside her, she doesn't move — a sure sign she's still awake.
"Kate?" I say softly.
After a long moment, she finally replies. "Yeah?"
"Are you all right?"
"I think so." She turns over to face me. "This was the worst party ever."
I chuckle, feeling a little of the tension in the air dissipate. "One year Betsy Bialetti's two ex-husbands got into a fistfight even before the main course had been served. But I agree, this definitely tops that."
"Is Olivia all right?"
"She should be fine. The medics gave her a sedative and I had Santino take her home. I'm giving her time off to recover from the shock." I sigh. "I wish you hadn't gone in there. You weren't supposed to see that."
"And you were? Was Olivia?" Her tone is soft, like she wanted me to know she wasn't gunning for a fight but needed to point out that once again, I was being overprotective. "I was worried. I needed to know you were okay."
"Kate, I'm touched that you care but I don't like you putting yourself in danger for me."
"That's my decision, don't you think?"
"Kate."
She raises an eyebrow.
"Fine," I say. "It's your decision. I don't have to like it."
She smiles. "Are we fighting?"
"We're having a discussion about you running into crime scenes."
"In my defense, I didn't know it was a crime scene."
"Neither did I."
"Are you going to work tomorrow?"
"No, I'm coming with you when you give your statement to the police."
She wrinkles her nose. "I'm going to have half a dozen lawyers with me; you don't need to be there."
"Yes, I do. You know I do."
"Oh, right." She grins. "We're supposed to be madly in love or something."
My chest constricts with an unexpected pain from her words. "You know that's not the reason I want to be there."
She averts her gaze. "What do you think happened?"
"I honestly have no idea. You saw what I did: Saldana lying dead with a pool of blood around his head. It's probably murder, but of course, the police haven't said how." The ladies' room of a country club during a charity gala is a very strange place to murder someone, but that's what it looked like.
"And Olivia found him?"
"That's what she said. It was a shock for her, obviously."
"Poor Olivia."
"We'll take care of her. She's strong, she'll recover."
"Yeah."
I hesitate. "Sorry, you probably want to go to bed now."
"Not really." She gives me a wry smile. "I'm still too wound up, I think."
"Can I help?"
She gives me a look I can't decipher, then to my surprise she moves closer and lays her head on my chest. I hold my breath, wondering if she can hear the thundering of my heart against my chest.
"Is this okay?" she says.
I swallow. "Yeah."
"It's just for tonight."
"Of course."
"Don't try anything."
"I wouldn't dream of it, querida."
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