Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

one of those quiet sort of cries, tears spilling silently as Jess gazed straight ahead with unseeing eyes. Eve felt all punched out inside, as if a million tiny fists were beating at her gut and heart. She’d done the right thing, she was sure of it. What sort of friend might she have been had she left Jess here all alone to fend for herself with a man who looked like him ?
    Eve watched as Fernando quickened the pace of his horse and rode off into the sunset. If he’d really been sincere and not just trying to secure an inheritance, Jess’s timeline wouldn’t have mattered to him in the least. But he’d been unable to wait for her, had refused her point-blank. It was a miracle they’d gotten to the magistrate in time.
    Eve glanced at the thick express mail package still clutched in Jess’s hands. She’d held it on her lap since leaving Casa de la Vega, just gripping it there like some sort of lifeline between the reality of now and the hopeful imaginings of the past. Initially, the postmaster at the magistrate’s office had been unhelpful, stating if the package had come through at the start of the week, it had likely been processed and was already on its way to Madrid for final approval. It was only at Eve’s insistence that he’d dug through the large canvas carrier on stout wheels and managed to come up with the return address of La Esperanza del Corazón. The postmaster had required identification but then wasn’t sure who to hand the package to. “Give it to her,” Fernando had said coldly. “There’s nothing left in it for me.”
    When Jess had refused to take it, Eve had snatched it away, holding on to it until just now. Jess had accepted the parcel without a word and had just stared out the window at Fernando instead. Eve knew she must be disappointed to have met yet another man who wouldn’t stand by her, but best to learn that now than a continent’s move away and a few kids into the future.
    “I booked us a long layover in Madrid,” she said to Jess. “Fourteen hours. Plenty of time to clear out your apartment and spend a quick night.”
    Jess nodded numbly, staring down at the package. “I can’t even remember what I left at that place.”
    “Probably not too much important,” Eve answered. “But it’s good to check it out, just in case. Jess?” Eve said, giving her shoulder a tight hug. “Please say you don’t hate me?”
    Jess stared at her, stunned. “Oh, Evie,” she said with moist eyes. “I don’t hate you. Don’t hate you at all. I understand what you did and why you felt you had to do it. You didn’t come all the way over here for yourself. You did it for me.”
    Eve’s heart felt a little lighter. Maybe things would eventually get back to normal after all. Jess would put Fernando behind her and resume her life in Brooklyn. As time passed, she might even look back on this episode with the matador and thank Eve for coming to her rescue in Spain.
    “It’s only that…” Jess continued, her voice trailing off into melancholy.
    “What is it, Jess? What?”
    Jess set her chin a moment, focusing hard on something internal. When she turned to Eve again, her expression was drawn. “It’s only that I wonder if maybe I’m” —her lips trembled — “starting to hate myself.”
    “Oh, Jess, no. Don’t say that.” Eve drew Jess into her arms as the airport tower loomed near. “Don’t ever say that. Nobody could ever do anything but love you.”
    But by the way Jess crumbled in her embrace, it didn’t appear she believed it.

    “Fernando,” Ana María said. “Do you mind telling your mother what’s going on?”
    Fernando had just come in from a long ride and didn’t appear to be in the mood for talking.
    “I’ll tell you later,” he said, heading for the study.
    Ana María held out a hand to stop him. “You’ll tell me now.”
    He turned on her, his expression surly.
    Ana María pressed on, undaunted. “Your wife of one week gets in a cab bound for New York? I deserve to know.”
    His eyes were dark and stormy, like the sky before hard rain. “I need some time, Mamá . ”
    “Fernando,” she said, raising her voice for emphasis. “She’s carrying your child, my grandbaby . ”
    He met her with a hard, even stare. “There is no baby.”
    Ana María cupped her hand to her lips.
    “Never was,” he continued, his neck coloring. “I’m sorry that I lied to you.”
    Ana María stood there, dumbfounded. Fernando was stubborn, yes. Perhaps a