Chapter 59 Chapter 59
Chapter 59 Chapter 59
At ten past nine on Thursday morning, Cavalier climbed the stairs in the west wing three at a time, his new heart pounding and the scar on his chest burning as it hadn’t in weeks.
He knocked on the door twice, sharply.
“Cavalier.”
“Laura.”
“Come in.”
She opened the door. He stepped inside. He closed the door behind him carefully.
Laura was sitting on the edge of the bed with the yellow folder still open on her lap, the uncapped bottle of vitamins on the nightstand, and the half-empty glass of water next to it.
Three seconds.
Cavalier didn’t move from the doorway.
—Cavalier.
“Yes.”
“Come here.”
He took two steps. He sat down on the edge of the bed, on the left side—the side that had been his for thirty-seven days.
Laura closed the folder. She set it down at the foot of the bed. She held his gaze for five seconds.
Then she raised her right hand slowly and rested it on his face, on his left cheek, where the shadow of two days’ stubble lingered.
“Cavalier, forgive me.”
Cavalier took her hand from his face and held it there, without speaking, for three full seconds.
“Laura.”
“Yes.”
“I owe you an apology, too.”
“Why?”
“For going to the Plaza without telling you. For not answering the phone when you called me three times. For finding out about the baby before you did. For everything that happened this week.”
—Cavalier.
—Yes.
—About the Plaza.
—Yeah.
—Tell me.
Cavalier lowered his head for a second, then raised it and looked at her.
“Laura, that woman at the bar is named Sofía Lansdowne. She’s the daughter of one of the partners in Boston—the ones involved in the contract I signed on Friday. She came to New York to finalize some of her own paperwork, and we ran into each other by chance at the hotel bar.”
—By chance?
“By chance, Laura. I went downstairs to get some water because the minibar in the suite was empty. She was alone at the bar. She recognized me. She bought me a drink. I accepted.”
—Why did you accept it?
A three-second pause.
—Because I’d seen you kissing Alex, and because for six hours I’d been convinced that my wife had been lying to me in bed for forty days. That’s the only honest thing I can tell you about why I accepted it.
Laura held his gaze for five seconds.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Fine, Cavalier. I’ll buy that reason. Any other, and I won’t.”
—Fine.
“And did she get in the elevator with you?”
—She got in the elevator in the lobby, yes. Up to the twenty-ninth floor, her floor. I put my arm around her waist because her heel got caught. I dropped her off at the door to her suite. I went back to the thirty-second floor alone. If you want confirmation, we can call the hotel right now. The elevator camera records everything on the security feed.
—Cavalier, I don’t need the camera.
—No?
—No. I believe you.
Long pause.
—Cavalier.
“Yeah.”
“There’s a video of Alex kissing you. I’ll show it to you tomorrow at the clinic if you want.”
“No, Laura. I don’t need to see it.”
—No?
—No. I believe you.
Three seconds.
And then Laura, sitting on the edge of the bed in the west wing of a mansion that she hadn’t felt was hers for forty-two days until that morning, broke into a smile and laughed for the first time in four days.
A short laugh. The kind that escapes a woman when her anger runs out of steam and all that’s left is exhaustion.
—Cavalier.
—Yes.
“We’re both a couple of bastards.”
“We are.”
“The good kind of bastards.”
—The good kind.
—The kind who make mistakes because they’re idiots, not because they’re bad people.
—Yeah.
Cavalier smiled at her. A brief laugh, too. He slowly lowered her hand from his face—without letting go—and pressed it against his chest, over the scar of Elena’s heart that had been beating between them for forty-two days.
They both cried for a while.
No drama. No speeches. No long sobs. Just small tears from people who’d been holding back things for a week that they didn’t know how to deal with. Cavalier kissed her hair twice, once on her forehead and once on her temple. Laura rested her head on his right shoulder, the one by the balcony.
“Cavalier.”
“Yes.”
“One thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m sleeping in the suite with you tonight.”
—Okay.
—But I want you to know something.
—Go ahead.
“What happened with my mom isn’t over just because we’ve made up. We’ll both grieve that together when we’re on solid ground. I can’t do it today. But I’m warning you—it’s coming.”
—Okay, Laura. Whenever you’re ready.
—Okay.
At eleven in the morning, Vargas went up to the room in the west wing. Echo. Tension. He confirmed that the bleeding had stopped completely and that the baby was stable.
“Mendoza, you’re partially discharged. You can move into the master suite today if you want. But you still need to rest for another seventy-two hours. No stairs, no clinic, and no going down to the dining room until Saturday.”
“Okay.”
“And no arguments with your husband, Mendoza.”
Laura looked at Cavalier standing beside the bed.
“Vargas.”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing to discuss today.”
“Fine. I’ve been hearing that ever since I saw the cardiologist. I’ll be back on Saturday.”
At two in the afternoon, Cavalier carried Laura’s things up to the master suite while Gloria helped Marcela change the sheets. Marcela didn’t ask any questions. She just kissed Laura on the forehead as she passed by the landing on the second floor.
—My love.
—Marcela.
“Good job.”
“What exactly?”
“Not kicking him out of bed any longer than necessary. That’s something I learned at fifty-two, my love. You learned it at thirty.”
—Marcela.
—Yes.
“At least I learned something in forty-two days.”
Marcela laughed. Quietly. She walked down the hallway toward her suite.
By eleven o’clock at night, Laura was already in bed on the left side of the master suite, with the lamp on her nightstand lit and a book open on her lap that she hadn’t read in twenty minutes.
Cavalier came out of the bathroom, slipped into bed on the right side, wrapped his left arm around her waist without asking permission, and kissed her hair.
“Laura.”
“Yes.”
“One question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is the baby okay right now?”
—I’m fine, Cavalier. The child is fine, too. Vargas confirmed it this morning.
—Good.
—Why the question?
—Because for the past four days, I haven’t been able to put my hand on your belly without asking you first.
—Cavalier.
“Yes.”
“Put your hand on me.”
Cavalier pulled the sheet down until her smooth belly was exposed. He rested his open palm there, all five fingers spread out. He kissed her temple.
Laura closed her eyes.
“Cavalier.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to sleep like this tonight.”
“All right.”
She turned off the lamp.
At five in the morning, Cavalier opened his eyes in the darkness. Laura’s head rested on his right shoulder; her breathing was steady, and one of her hands was still clasped around his above her belly.
He looked at her for three seconds.
He leaned close to her ear.
“I love you, Laura.”
Three seconds.
And she, without opening her eyes, without moving from his shoulder, without even lifting her head, replied in a low voice.
“Me too, you bastard.”
Cavalier laughed. Quietly. So as not to wake her completely.
But she was already awake.
She just didn’t want to open her eyes yet.
At ten past six in the morning, Cavalier got up to go downstairs for breakfast with Manuel. He left Laura a note on the nightstand.
I’ll be back at ten. I’ll bring you some coffee from the neighborhood—the strong stuff, the kind Carla brought you. If you need anything in the meantime, call Gloria. Cavalier.
At 6:30 a.m., he went down to the main studio. Manuel was already on the terrace with the coffee.
“Son.”
“Grandpa.”
“How did your wife wake up this morning?”
“Fine. And the little one, too.”
“Good.”
—Grandpa.
—Yes.
—One thing.
—Go ahead.
“I’m leaving for Hazelton first thing tomorrow morning.”
—Why?
“I have an appointment with Vanessa Ashford. I want to ask her face-to-face where the original recording that Marcelo gave her is, and if she had a copy before the transfer.”
Manuel nodded slowly.
“All right, son.”
“And one more thing.”
—Yes.
“Last night, Derek told me something new.”
“What was it?”
Cavalier took his phone out of his robe pocket. He showed Manuel the screen.
“Hazelton Federal Prison issued an internal notice at 2:20 a.m. today. Vanessa Ashford left the cell block at 11:50 p.m. last night with an order to be transferred to a halfway house in Pennsylvania. Derek discovered this while checking the federal prison system’s records at 5:00 a.m.”
“Transfer?”
“Transfer, Grandpa. And the order was signed by a prosecutor who isn’t listed on the case, with electronic authorization from a judge who’s been on medical leave since last Monday.”
“Son.”
“Yes.”
“That means one thing.”
—Yes, Grandpa. Vanessa is getting away.
—And tomorrow, when you get to Hazelton...
“I won’t find her there.”