I woke up with his hand still curled around my hip and the sky going gray over the harbor.
Rafael: You slept. Four hours.
He said it like it was something I should be proud of. I wasn't.
I pulled the wig off and dragged my old sweater on over the dress. Classy as hell.
Mira: East side. Tell me you know how to get there.
Rafael: I know every street in this city. That's the problem.
He drove with one hand and let the radio do the talking for us.
At a red light he looked over like he was deciding something, and then decided not to say it.
He parked outside my building, and the woman from the corner flat was on the steps with her dog.
She looked at the car, then at him, and her mouth did a thing I knew too well.
Rafael: Machine stays with you. I'm not leaving it on the street for some bastard to walk off with.
He carried it up three flights and wasn't even breathing hard.
Mira: You don't have to babysit it. Or me.
My keys wouldn't line up with the lock, and my hands were doing that shaking thing again.
Rafael: Give them here.
He took the keys out of my fingers and then didn't open the door. He just stood there, close.
Rafael: Tell me to go, or I'm going to kiss you in this hallway like a fucking teenager.
Mira: Don't.
His mouth hit mine before I finished, and my hands went straight into his hair.
He walked me back against the door and kissed me slow, then not slow at all.
His hand came up under my sweater and found the bare skin at my ribs. Warm palm, rough fingers.
His palm slid over my breast through the bra, then under it, and his thumb dragged across my nipple.
I made a sound into his mouth I'd be ashamed of later.
Rafael: There she is.
He pushed his hips into mine so I could feel how hard he was through his pants. He never hid it.
I got wet and stupid in one second flat and grabbed his belt like a handrail.
Rafael: You want this. Say it.
Mira: I want it.
He cupped my jaw with his right hand, and the ring on his finger caught the hallway light.
Silver, heavy, a crest cut into the top. I'd seen that crest tonight, on the lapels of men who didn't have to explain themselves.
My whole body went cold in the middle of all that heat.
Mira: What is that ring.
Rafael: You know what it is.
Mira: Say it out loud.
Rafael: Caldera. That's the name. My name.
I shoved both hands flat on his chest and pushed. He stepped back and let me.
Mira: You're a fucking Caldera. You let me stand in that room with Delphine and you never said one word.
Rafael: You gave me a fake name. I gave you my real one. That's more than you did.
Rafael: People move out of my way now. That's the whole point of the crest.
Mira: I didn't know what the man was.
Rafael: Yes you did. You just didn't want it to have a name.
The worst part wasn't the fear. It was the little hot flare in my chest that said he picked me out of that whole room.
God, I hated myself for that.
He pulled a card out of his jacket and pressed it into my palm. Just a number, no name.
Rafael: I don't chase. So if you want to pretend this didn't happen, that's on you.
Mira: It didn't happen.
Rafael: Then you're the one running. Not me.
He kissed me once more, soft, and it was worse than the hard one.
Then he turned and went down the stairs, and I shut the door.
I stood with my back against the door and opened my fist.
My mother's machine was in the hall. The man who kissed me wasn't some tired guy from a bar. He was a name this city says quietly.