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“Impressive,” I whisper as he takes my hand again.
“You like it?” he asks hesitantly.
“How could I not like it? This ... is awesome. Huge. Beautiful.”
“C’mon, I’ll show you the rest,” he says, not letting go of my hand. “We’re alone, except for Simona and Norbert, but they’ll leave soon. Flyn is at my mother’s. We’ll pick him up tomorrow.”
I like the feel of his hand, and sensing his happiness warms the cold core around my heart a little bit. He shows me a marvelous room with an enormous, majestic fireplace, already lit and inviting us to sit down on the chocolate-colored couch in front of it. I take note of everything. With its dark and somber furnishings, it’s definitely a man’s house. There’s not one photo or one feminine detail. Nothing.
Taking me by the hand, he gives me a full tour of the first floor. Two beautiful bathrooms, a long room. We go down a hallway, and he opens the door; suddenly we’re in a gigantic and spotless garage.
There are a dark blue all-terrain Mitsubishi, a light gray Maybach Exelero, a black Audi A6, and a light gray BMW 1.100 motorcycle. My father’s dream! I’m absolutely stunned by everything, and when I don’t think anything else could possibly astonish me, we go back down the hallway where he opens another door, and there’s a spectacular rectangular pool that leaves me in awe.
An indoor pool. What a luxury!
Eric grins. He’s having fun with my reactions. I try to be cool, but I can’t pull it off.
We leave the pool behind and continue down the hallway to his office. Everything is dark oak, and there’s an impressive library with one of those movable ladders that you always see in the movies. How cool is that! There are a twenty-inch screen on his desk and gadgets on a second desk. To the right of that, there’s a fireplace with a roaring fire, and to the left stands a white cabinet with various pistols.
“Are they yours?” I ask, checking out the display.
“Yes.”
The pistols make me shudder.
“I’ve never liked guns,” I say. “Do you know how to use them?”
Like always, he just looks at me. “A little bit,” he finally says. “I’m an Olympic shooter.”
Without giving me a chance to respond, he takes me by the hand again and pulls me out of the office.
We go into another room with a desk and a ton of toys. He tells me it’s Flyn’s study and playroom. Everything is exquisitely tidy. Nothing is out of place, and that surprises me. If this belonged to my niece or even me, it would be chaos. I don’t say anything about what I’m thinking, and we go from one room to another. One is almost empty except for a treadmill and boxes.
“This is your room. For your things,” he says abruptly.
“My room?”
Eric nods.
“Yes, this can be your own private space. As you can see, Flyn has his and I have mine. It’s only fair you should have your own space too, to do with whatever you want.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m so bowled over. Eric gives me a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Overwhelmed by all the space and luxury here, I go up that impressive double stairway. Eric tells me there are seven bedrooms on this floor, each with its own bathroom. Eric’s room is something else. It’s blue, and there’s a colossal bed in the very center, which makes my heart beat faster. The bathroom is another marvel: Jacuzzi, hydromassage, shower. Everything is deluxe.
I go back to the bedroom. I notice the lamp on one of the night tables, and I smile. It’s the little lamp we bought at El Rastro, with my lip print. It doesn’t go with anything in this bedroom; it’s much too informal. I feel Eric looking at me, and that makes me anxious, so I look away and notice my bags. That makes me even more anxious, but I try my best to seem OK.
From Eric’s room, we go to Flyn’s. There are planes and cars in perfect order. Is this child really that neat? It doesn’t feel like a kid lives here.
After that, he shows me the other bedrooms. They’re big and nice, but it’s obvious no one uses them. He takes me by the hand again, and we go downstairs. In an incredible steel-and-wood kitchen, he opens an American fridge and takes out a cold Coke for me and a beer for him.
“I hope you like the house.”
“It’s beautiful, Eric.”
He takes a sip of his beer.
“It’s so big ... uff!” I say, looking around and touching my forehead. “It’s a helluva house. My house is smaller than one of the two bathrooms on this floor. How come you never told me about it before?”