by Ewing, A. B.
“I swear you blush more than a school girl with a crush on her Math teacher. Dahlia, you need to start acting like a married woman and stop running. You want your man, go get him!”
“I do love him, and I do miss him so much.”
“Yeah, I get that from the picture of him you have tucked away under your pillow.” Natasha laughed again as Dahlia’s cheeks turned pink. Natasha’s face suddenly turned serious as she continued to stare at Dahlia.
“What’s the matter, Tash?”
“There is something I need to show you.”
Before Dahlia could ask, her sister disappeared in the direction of her bedroom after briefly throwing a glance at Baby Trent hammering away at his toys on the floor. After losing her baby, Dahlia thought it would have been hard being around Trent but it wasn’t like that at all. He was a delightful baby and at eight months he was already sitting on his own. Every time she looked at him, the chubby cheeked angel pulled at her heart. She still missed her son terribly, but somehow her interaction with Trent had brought her a sense of peace. There could be other babies for her and Raphael, if he took her back.
Natasha returned this time with a sheet of paper and handed it to Dahlia. Scanning the contents, she froze when her eyes landed on the picture. Looking up at Natasha she asked, “Where did you get this?”
“I printed it off the internet.”
“Is it real?”
“Yes, it is.”
Dahlia’s heart throbbed against her ribs, her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the picture of Raphael and the beautiful, blacked haired woman. The camera had caught them exiting a restaurant, Raphael’s hand possessively around the woman’s waist. The article below described ‘the couple’ as live in lovers. Dahlia’s mind swirled as she took in the information. Constance Martinez was a friend of the Cavos family from Spain, but it seemed as though the relationship between the old friends had blossomed into something more the last four months. Unshed tears stung the back of her eyes. Why was this happening to her? Now that she had finally decided to go back to her husband it seemed as though he had moved on. A lover!
With feet that suddenly felt as if they were unable to support her, she found a seat. Trent, seeing his aunt again, stretched out his arms to her. Needing some form of comfort, Dahlia hugged the little boy close to her chest.
“You didn’t know, did you?” Natasha asked from where she stood. Shaking her head in denial, she buried her face in the baby’s soft nest of curls.
“I can’t believe your mother-in-law didn’t tell you. I am sure she must know.”
Inhaling the baby’s scent, Dahlia explained. “It was an unspoken agreement between us. I didn’t want to speak about Rafe and she understood that. I cannot blame her.”
“Understood, so when will you be leaving?”
“Leaving? I can’t go there now. He has a girlfriend.”
“Dahlia, I swear to God! If you don’t wise up I’m gonna smack you so hard Mama and Papa are going to feel it.” Natasha threatened.
“What? How could you expect me to go back now? I can’t! He has a girlfriend.” Surely Natasha had to understand this was reason enough to change her mind.
“Ugh! Dahlia, I don’t care if he has a dozen girlfriends. He is your husband. Are you going to just stand by and let some woman snap him up from under you? That man is in love with you.”
“If he loved me, Natasha, he wouldn’t have taken a lover. He would have waited for me.”
“Oh…really? And how long exactly was he supposed to wait, Dahlia? One month? Ten months? One year—five? For God’s sake, Dahlia, did you not hear a word I was saying earlier? Marriage is not a bed of roses. Men and woman are made up differently. Very few men would be able to hold out for a month, let alone ten months without sex. Men are stupid creatures who sometimes think with another part of their anatomy instead of their brain. They are quite capable of having sex with no strings attached. Live in lover or not, I am sure that woman is not who his heart belongs to.” Natasha ranted. “My point is, Rafe is your husband and you should go after him. End of story.”
****
Other than the gulls that swept down to skim their meal from the water’s top, the couple that was strolling behind her and the person standing at the shoreline a long distance away, the beach was empty. This was the one place she could think clearly. Here, so close to nature at its purest and finest is where she could always find answers. So much had transpired today. There was not a doubt in her mind that she had made a mistake ten months ago. She should have never walked out on her marriage. Hurt or not her place should have been with her husband. She had done the same thing she accused him of doing. Raphael had tried so hard to show her just how much he loved her and what had she done? She had thrown all his heartfelt efforts back into his face. How could he possibly still love or want her?
The last ten months had been good for her. She had finally come to terms with losing her baby. Partially, she was to blame for his death. She should have been more cautious. Accepting this truth had also made way for the healing process to begin. Now, the ache in her heart was less whenever she thought about the loss she—they suffered.
Her mind wondered to the picture from this afternoon causing prickles of jealousy to begin inside her. She had called this upon herself. How could she have taken his love for granted? Raphael was a man any woman would want and she had left the field wide open for someone to home in when she decided to leave. Now her husband was publicly bedding another woman. The question now was; was she willing to give up? Did she sit back and wait for the divorce papers to come or did she get on a plane to New York and demand that her husband get rid of his lover?
God Mama, I wish you were here, she cried silently.
Looking closer at the person standing at the shoreline, she deciphered that it was a man. He stood with his hand in his pocket, the folds rolled up to avoid the water. She observed as he bent to pick up something and sent it slashing across the water’s the top. One, two, three times it bounced before it was submerged below the water. Her feet took her closer to where he stood but as she drew nearer, the hair on her arms and neck prickled. There was something so familiar about him, about the way he stood, about the way he stroked his hand through his hair.
She stilled, her heart accelerating. It couldn’t be him. Would fate be this cruel? Had she been thinking about him so much, she was actually seeing things now? A sudden gust of wind brought with it that oh so familiar scent. Paco Robanne, Raphael’s cologne of choice. Oh God, it was him. Her husband was standing only a few feet away from her, unaware as she admired him. What was he doing here? Was he staying at the hotel again? So many things she wanted to say, to ask but once again an image of that picture from this afternoon came to mind, this time riding on the wave of hot burning fury.
Determined to get answers, Dahlia stormed across the sand ready to confront her unsuspecting husband.
****
Well, so much for waiting. He must have been high if he really thought that she was going to come back on her own. Patience was not one of his virtues, so it was no surprise that he had booked the private jet and found himself once again in Trinidad in the same hotel, in the same room. Now all he needed to do was build up the courage to go to her. Mamá was quite pleased with his decision as he knew she would be. His mother loved Dahlia; there was no doubt about that.
Picking up a tiny pebbled he launched it across the water and smiled as it tic-tac-toed before it sank. He still had it. Glancing at his watch he noted the time. Constance and Genevieve should almost be ready now. He should get up to his room and get changed. If it was one thing Rafe knew, it was never to keep a woman waiting. In this case the trouble would be doubled.
It was only when he turned to head up to the hotel did he notice the small woman storming toward him. Recognizable anger in her movements, Raphael was aware this was not the confrontation he had in mind. Unprepared for this meeting he swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled unco
mfortably. Huge mistake! That smile was wiped clean off his face when Dahlia drew back her tiny hand and punched him square in his jaw. The force of the blow actually rocked him.
“What the hell, Dahlia?” He huffed grabbing at his aching jaw. Her answer was another punch, this time to his stomach. The blow was less effective than the first one, but nevertheless, it still hurt.
“Dammit, Dahlia, will you stop hitting me! What the hell is wrong with you?” He shouted. “Oh, no you don’t!” He warned, grabbing the hand she raised once again. Spinning her around, he confined both her hands in front of her, dragging her up against the solid plains of his chest.
“Be still, Dahlia!” He commanded near her ear but groaned in pain when the back of her head came up and collided with his nose. The pain rushed through him, travelling up to his head causing him to see blurry for a couple of seconds. But she wasn’t done! Drawing up her foot she stomped down hard on his foot, crushing it into the sand. Shouting out in pain he released her. Nursing his injured toe he glared at her in frustration. Where the hell did these sides of her come from?
“You are a pig, Raphael Cavos and I hate you! I don’t know what you are doing here but you better go back where you came from!” She screamed at him. Just like that she was moving away from him.
What the hell was that all about? How did she know he was here? Raphael watched as his wife strutted down the beach. That beautiful hair of hers flowing freely down her back, her rounded bottom encased in those tight short pants, exposing the length of those gorgeously long legs. Raphael felt that familiar jolt of arousal. Dios, it had been so long.
He was not going to walk away this easy again. Ignoring the pain in various parts of his body he took off after her. Scooping her up in a bear hug he lifted her off the ground and plastered her against his body. She reacted instantly, throwing her head back again but Rafe expected it this time. Dodging the blow he buried his head in the crook of her neck and instantly felt that stab of arousal again. Dahlia felt it too because she stopped struggling, her breathing shallow.
“Raphael, please put me down!” She demanded through clench teeth, a hint of her earlier anger still evident in her voice.
“I will, but you must promise to calm down and tell me why you are so angry, Amor.”He whispered against her skin. That memorable scent which he had missed so much tickled his nostrils, slicing through his body, driving his arousal almost out of control. He pressed it harder against her rounded bottom and sensed a minor victory when she pushed back against him, moaning deeply. It was so easy to get caught up in her, to forget the issues they were facing. To be this close to her after so long was like giving a man a gallon of water after he had been in the desert for days. He wanted to drink and never stop. But he couldn’t let sex confuse this situation. He and Dahlia needed to talk.
“Amor, I am going to put you down now. I just need you to calm down and talk to me. Will you do that?” It was a while before she shook her head in agreement and Raphael sensed she too was trying to get her body under control.
“Bien…” Cautiously he lowered her to the soft sand, his large body still in defensive mode. As a precautionary measure, he released her and stepped back.
When she finally faced him, all traces of the desire that had just passed between them were gone. In its place was the angry face that greeted him a few minutes ago. Choosing his words carefully he spoke. “Now, Amor, do you wish to explain what your earlier behavior was about? Is there any particular reason you attacked me?”
She looked him dead in the eyes and delivered the deadly blow without so much as flinching, “Two words Raphael Cavos, Constance Martinez.” Raphael swore silently as her words sunk in. She knew about Constance. Dios mio, this was the consequences Sean Patrick had mentioned.
****
Chapter 18
He stood there with the stupidest blank expression on his face; she wanted to punch him again. The anger simmering inside her was a horribly uncomfortable new feeling. Dahlia would have never thought she could be as violent as she had just been, but seeing him again so suddenly, knowing that there was another woman in his life had done something to her.
Noticing the slight discoloration on his jaw where she had punched him, she groaned inwardly. She should never have hit him. Violence was something she detested. Plus, her knuckles were killing her now, but then what did you expect when you wanted to play Evander Holyfield? She would apologize, but she would let him stew a little first.
“Cat got your tongue, Raphael?” She dropped the well thought of question.
“You know about Constance. How did you find out?”
He seriously did not just ask her that question. “Does it matter how I found out, Raphael? What you should be doing is saying what you have to say, so I can go home and you can get back to your ‘little, live in lover.’”
Dahlia was so proud that she could stand and face Raphael like this despite all the emotions that were surging inside. First and foremost was that green eyed monster called jealousy. Knowing that her husband had a lover, someone he touched the way he once touched her was torture beyond hell—then came the hurt, the pain of knowing that he could move on so easily even after vowing his love for her. And of course, there was the anger. She was blatantly angry that he would flaunt his affair so openly without a care in the world that she would find out and what it would to do her. Oh yes, she was mad as hell.
When he finally spoke it was in a very controlled voice. “Dahlia, in spite of that wonderful show you put on a while back, I know you are not a woman who enjoys a scene. It is a thing I myself abhor. So before the couple that is staring at us as if we’ve gone mad, starts pulling out their cameras, can we please go to my room so we can talk about this? I do not fancy being the next big thing on YouTube.”
“Really? I would have thought that would be something you enjoyed, seeing that you have been plastered all over the internet with your girlfriend.”
“Dahlia, Constance is not my girlfriend!”
“Girlfriend, lover, mistress, same thing.”
“Dahlia…” He gritted. “Can we please go upstairs so we can have a proper conversation about this?”
“I am not going anywhere with you, Raphael Cavos.”
“Woman, I swear to God that if you do not shut that beautiful mouth of yours and start walking to the hotel, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you there if I have to.”
“You would not dare.” She cried in disbelief.
“Try me!” He challenged.
She did challenge him, silently that is. She glared at him for a very long time until she finally stomped her foot in frustrated defeat and did one of the most childish things. She stuck her tongue out at him before turning in the direction of the hotel and marched off, Raphael’s chuckles following her all the way.
****
Raphael followed Dahlia to the hotel, an amused smile playing on his face. As she flew past the confused receptionist, Raphael waved to the girl behind the desk signaling that it was alright. She strutted past the elevator and took the stairs instead. Not bothering to argue, he silently followed. At the top of the first flight of stairs it must have dawned on her that she didn’t have the faintest idea where she was going, because she stopped, looked left then right before she turned to glare at him. Stopping behind her he plastered another dumb look on his face, hiding the serious urge to laugh at her expression.
“Are you going to tell me which room, or are we going to stand here the whole day?”
“You know which room, Dahlia.”
He saw something flicker in her eyes as understanding dawned. Yes, she certainly knew which room. Her eyes clouded over quickly as she turned and continued her stomping all the way to their destination, Raphael following at a much slower pace. She stopped outside the room, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her sandaled foot impatiently waiting for him to open the door. He took his time. Strolling to where she stood, he retrieved the key from his pocket, unlocked the door, swin
ging it wide open for her.
When she whooshed pass him he couldn’t help but sneak a peek at her bottom once again. Dios, his woman was sexy as hell. Shaking his head, he smiled again as he followed her inside, closing the door, and locking the world out.
****
This was it, the final showdown. The things that would be said in this room were going to be the deciding factor in her marriage. Raphael stood with his back to the door, his eyes trained on her. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, dialed and then put it to his ear.
Dahlia felt awkward listening to the one sided conversation mainly because her husband chose to carry it on in Spanish. A few of the words she understood. Sí-yes, then her name, diez minutos-ten minutes. That was about all. God, she really needed to learn Spanish. At the end of his conversation, he tossed the phone on the nearby entrance table.
“That was very rude of you.”
“What was rude of me, Amor?”
“Speaking in Spanish when you know I can’t understand what you are saying.”
Coming closer, a crooked smile on his face he informed her, “Maybe, Amor, you were not meant to understand.” Unexpectedly, he grabbed her wrist. She tried to yank it away but he held it firm.
“Be still; let me see your hand, Dahlia.” He commanded, bringing her hand up to examine her knuckles. He swore vehemently when he saw the bruises. “Look at what you have done to your hand.” He accused.
“I am fine, Raphael. It barely hurts,” she lied.
“Do not lie to me, Dahlia. My face is still throbbing from where you hit me, so I know you must be in pain.” Still holding her hand, he dragged her to the bar despite her protest.
“Will you let go of my hand?”
“Will you shut up and let me take care of this?”
Biting down her next words she watched as he wrapped some ice in a small towel and then proceeded to apply it to her knuckles. She winced at the first touch but welcomed the soothing sensation that followed.