Remission

by Ofelia Martinez

  His other arm was now around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He let go of my body and brought his hand back up, this time finding my lips. With his thumb, he rubbed my bottom lip, swiping from one side to the other, while my hands pressed against his hard chest.

  “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long.” His voice was deeper and now suddenly raspy. When he spoke, my skin broke into goosebumps, and my legs wrapped around his waist without my command, pulling him closer.

  When his lips finally made contact with mine, the last nine years fell away. Every reason we had for not being together was gone. My hatred, even, had mellowed to a low flicker in the distance.

  It was a gentle kiss—at first. He explored my mouth with restraint and grazed my teeth tentatively with the tip of his tongue. The smell of his musk mingled with the crisp taste of the wine still on our lips, and a moan escaped me. The hand he had cupping the back of my head bunched into a fist in response to the sound, sending a prickling sensation through my scalp. But the pain mixed with pleasure, and I could not voice a protest. I didn’t want to.

  My eyes flew open when I felt the length of him hardening through the layers of clothing. His slacks, my pantyhose, and underwear separated me from what my body needed.

  I tightened the muscles of my legs to grip him even closer to me if that were possible. I needed to feel all of him. He pulled me away by the hair still in his fist, and he chuckled. The void I felt at his mouth no longer on mine was unbearable. The need for him was unmatched by anything I had felt for anyone, ever—by a longshot.

  “My eager little Carolina,” he said in a breathy voice. “We have plenty of time. Let me enjoy this.”

  Hector’s grip pulled my hair, forcing my head back and exposing my neck to him. I grabbed on to his broad shoulders for balance. He kissed my jaw, then trailed kisses down my neck.

  “I love you,” he whispered, and my every muscle turned to stone. My hands dropped away from him and found the counter. My legs unraveled from him, retreating from his body and finding their way back to mine.

  “What did you say?”

  “I love you. I’ve loved for a long time.”

  My face twisted at his words, and I pushed him away. He let go of my hair so he could look at my face, which was now serious. He groaned with frustration, but he stepped back and away from me.

  “You were talking about desire, Hector. Desire and love are two very different things.”

  “You must have known,” he countered, now looking angry.

  “No. You didn’t love me. Someone who loves someone doesn’t put them through what you have put me through.”

  “Someone who loves someone,” he said, his teeth gritted, “will do anything, even if it means staying away for nearly a decade, before hurting them.”

  “What are you talking about?” I jumped off the counter and straightened my dress.

  “Carolina, do you think I could have kept you, knowing that either way things played out, I would be hurting you?”

  “Hurting me?” I shook my head. None of his words were making sense. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was in a classic no-win situation. If we had been weak at the conference hotel that night, the rumors would have been true, and they would have ruined your career.”

  “But we weren’t. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Like that mattered? Look at what happened anyway.”

  “Hector, that wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes, it was!” His voice raised a little. “And what if we had done things right? What if after my divorce came through, we had gotten together? What then? The hospital would have had a problem with it because I was your boss. But maybe I tried to solve the problem for you and left Heartland. Maybe I found another hospital so we could stay together—”

  That was a beautiful possibility lost. “What would have been wrong with that?”

  “Let’s play this out. Do you think you would have the career you have now if everyone believed you slept your way to the top?”

  I wanted to slap him. I wanted to slap him so much my palm tickled with the anticipation of contact, but I forced it to remain at my side. “I wouldn’t have done that,” I hissed.

  “No. But that’s what they would have all believed. But if we had gone further?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if I had proposed, because I wanted to Carolina, I wanted to propose to you back then. I was going to at our celebration dinner, but it never happened.”

  “You were going to propose?” I spoke gently, eerily gently, because the anger was swelling up in waves, and my breath kept getting caught in them.

  “Yes. I was. But then I talked to the chief, and he opened my eyes. And he wasn’t wrong, Carolina. What do you think would have happened if I had gotten my stupid happily-ever-after?”

  “Well, I guess we will never know, will we?” I started to look for my shoes. I had to get out of there but couldn’t remember where I’d kicked them off. Hector followed me around as I looked for them.

  “Don’t be obtuse. Dr. Stuart didn’t point out anything I didn’t already know, but I wanted to pretend I didn’t. And you knew it too.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, but this conversation is over.”

  “No, it isn’t. Listen to me. If you had done me that honor and said yes, the honeymoon period would have ended so soon.”

  “Great to know you had so little confidence in the possibility of us—”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Carolina, would you be happy right now, if all your career you wondered if you achieved what you have achieved because you earned it, or because your husband was Hector Medina?”

  I turned to face him again. “That’s what stopped you?”

  “Mostly.” He cupped the back of his neck. He seemed calmer now, but sadder too. “The other part of it was Stuart’s leverage.”

  “Yes, Hector, please tell me, what did he have over your head that was so important?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. He was ready to sink your career if I didn’t keep my name on the paper—and he could have done it too. That’s why I had to wait to correct the authorship on our paper. I had to wait for him to be gone. I couldn’t do that to you. And I couldn’t stay and continue to have him use you like a pawn. I just couldn’t, Carolina. I had to remove myself from the picture. I needed you to know that anything you achieved was because of you—and in spite of me. I didn’t want anyone to ever think it was because of me.”

  “So, you decided.”

  “Don’t you see? Everything I have done has been for you. I went to Heartland Metro for you, and I had to leave to protect you. I’ve stayed away for the same reason. Everything is always for you. You are my life, baby.” He moved closer to me, his eyes softer, trying to appease me.

  “No.” I shook my head. “You chose. We lost nine years we could’ve had—”

  “Let’s not lose any more—”

  “No. Not when you decide. You will never call the shots for me again, do you hear me?” I was shouting at him now, and I did my best to keep the tears pricking my eyes from escaping down my cheeks.

  He looked at me like I had slapped him, even though I had the grace to resist. “You stole nine years from me and didn’t have the decency to tell me. How could you do it?”

  “I did it for you.”

  I found my shoes and put them on then made my way toward the door. Hector hadn’t noticed when I had called the car, and I got the notification that it was waiting outside.

  “Don’t walk out on me, Carolina. We aren’t over—not like this.”

  “Everything has been up to you, Hector. It’s time to realize you are not my keeper,” I said and walked out of his house.

  Chapter 26

  Fight of Fights

  My driver witnessed my breakdown on the car ride home. The tears I was so hell-bent on keeping from Hector spilled over wi
th gusto. The driver looked in his rear-view mirror several times and asked if I was okay. I could only nod.

  When I arrived at my apartment, I didn’t even try to get to bed. I knew I wouldn’t sleep. My entire body was the nucleus of a bomb amassing energy before it detonated.

  I’d loved him, and he had loved me back, but he took our chance away. I had no say in the outcome. I’d never felt so powerless.

  It was like mourning, but I went straight to the second stage of grief: Anger. I left his house because I wanted to hit him and didn’t like the violence that was building in me. A violence fueled by the passion of the moments leading up to the argument.

  I rummaged through the storage bin under my bed and pulled out a gift box almost nine years old. It was wrapped in navy blue paper and tied off with an orange ribbon.

  Opening the gift in front of everyone hadn’t seemed appropriate, but then I’d forgotten about it after the party. It was placed in a box when I moved into a larger apartment. By the time I came across it again, the fallout had already taken place, and I couldn’t bring myself to open it.

  I’d come close a few times but never committed. Over the years, I would think about him and wonder what was in the box, but then the anger would wash over me, and I’d always put it away again.

  I undid the frayed ribbon. Hopefully, it wasn’t chocolate or something edible that had long ago turned rancid. I felt the heavy weight of it in my hands as I had so many times before. Breaking through the paper, I realized it was a book. I ran my fingers over the soft leather-bound tome. I turned it over to read the front cover and found the title of Jane Eyre.

  When he went to my house on my birthday that day so long ago, I had found him in my room, frozen in place as he stared at the wall. I’d always assumed it was the copy of his paper that had glued him to his spot. I had thought he believed me to be a stalker but realizing now what he had brought as a gift, I had to believe he was in awe that he’d unknowingly selected my favorite book.

  My eyes stung with tears. Anger and empathy battled within my body for a place in my heart. I wanted to forgive him, and I wanted to scratch his eyes out, all in the same breath.

  It was reckless to drive back to his place with the rage still blinding me, but I was drawn to him even in my anger. We’d almost slept together, and I was too restless to go to sleep.

  I gave myself several hours to calm down and returned to his house at four in the morning.

  “Carolina?” Hector asked sleepily as he opened his front door. His bedhead waves fell over his forehead, and he wore a white t-shirt with light-blue pajama bottoms.

  Not waiting for an invitation, I let myself in. As I closed the door, I leaned on it, needing the balance for strength.

  “How could you do it?” I asked, and a tear rolled down my cheek.

  “How could I not? Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing had the situation been reversed and it had been you threatening my career. You wouldn’t have stayed away too?”

  “I don’t know. But I would have talked to you about it.”

  “I couldn’t.” He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I knew you would convince me that we could work it out, and I would have been weak. I couldn’t chance it. I’m so, so, sorry.”

  He stepped forward and wiped away my tear with his thumb. “Please believe it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

  I nodded but took his hand away from my cheek. He kept his hand in mine and led me to the couch to sit next to him. The entire house was dark; he hadn’t turned on a single light when he opened the door.

  “I’m glad you came back.”

  “I’m not sure why I did. I mean, I had to cool off. Your instincts were right. I did want to hit you earlier.”

  He chuckled. “My instincts are always right.” His white teeth almost glowed in the dark through his grin.

  “I can think of at least one time when they weren’t,” I said, and I knew it was like a dagger to him.

  “What’s it going to take for you to forgive me?”

  “Forgiving has never come hard to me, Hector. It’s not about forgiveness. I’m not sure I can trust you.” And that was the truth of it. I wasn’t one to hold a grudge, with scarce exception. It was incredibly easy to forgive the people I loved, but this was so different. A grudge I didn’t know I’d been holding, for perhaps the first time in my life, had been brewing for years.

  “That hurts,” he admitted.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be hurtful—just honest.”

  “I know.” A strand of hair fell over my eyes, and Hector swept it back, tucking it behind my ear. “But I’m still glad you are back. Even if it’s to wound me,” he said.

  “I um—” I cleared my throat. “I opened your gift,” I said.

  Hector’s brows drew together. “My gift?”

  “My birthday gift—”

  He thought for a moment. “Do you mean from when I first came to Heartland Metro Hospital? The cookout for your birthday?”

  I nodded.

  “You hadn’t opened it before now?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s a bit odd.”

  “Why did you pick that book?”

  “What, Jane Eyre? I do have to say I was very surprised to find a poster of it in your room. But, um, I guess you reminded me of Jane.”

  “I reminded you of Jane? And more importantly, you’ve read it?”

  “Don’t get too excited. It was a college assignment, but it wasn’t bad.”

  “Please don’t give me more reasons to want to stab you,” I said, and he threw his head back with laughter.

  “Okay, it was good. Happy?”

  “No. Not even a little. You still haven’t told me why I reminded you of Jane. I’m nothing like her. She is small, and I am super tall. She’s plain and simple, and I’m more of a fiery, in-your-face kind of a presence, or so I’ve been told.”

  Hector chuckled. “Well, you are right on all accounts. But you are also otherworldly, like Jane. You can’t be from this planet. You are so . . . rare. Mainly though, if I remember correctly, Jane was Rochester’s equal, as you were—are—mine. No one else could understand either of them on a deeper level, but they didn’t have to even speak to know what was in the other’s heart.”

  “For someone who only read it for a college assignment, you have a pretty good understanding of the novel. I read it once a year—at least.”

  Hector gave me a side-glance but didn’t comment further.

  “What about the last seven years?” I asked him.

  “What about them?”

  “There hasn’t been anyone in your life in that time? A St. John—if you will?”

  “No.” Hector shook his head. “I dated, especially those first few years. I was trying to forget you, but nothing ever got serious. It’s hard to try to grow feelings for someone when you know your soul mate is elsewhere.”

  I scoffed. “We are scientists. How can you believe in soul mates?”

  “I didn’t use to.” Hector cupped my hand in both of his and pressed it to his chest. He kept a grip on it, not letting me have my hand back. “But I’m not exaggerating when I say everything changed with you.”

  A long stretch of silence followed as I thought of what to say next. I wasn’t sure why I was back here. I only knew I had no freewill to stay away.

  “What about you?” Hector asked after a moment.

  “What about me?”

  “It killed me to think of you with Ramiro or with someone else all these years. It was excruciating not getting on a flight and claiming you as mine.”

  “Really?” My anger was rising again. “It always comes back to this. What is it with you and Ramiro? He is family. Always has been, always will be.”

  “So, you never got together with him after I left?”

  “No!”

  Hector let out a breath he had been holding.

  “If you must know,” I said. “In the last sev
en years, Ramiro has had two great loves. Neither of whom was me. Now, he is very happily married, and very much still someone I consider family.”

  “And there hasn’t been anyone else?” he asked.

  “Like you, I dated some, but nothing ever came of it. I was too focused on work, and most men can’t handle a schedule as busy as mine.”

  Now that my sight had adjusted to the dark, I could make out Hector’s face as his nostrils flared.

  “I want to kill, just thinking about you with anyone else,” he admitted.

  “Don’t be a hypocrite. You just told me you dated as well.”

  “And how did you like hearing that, baby?”

  I shifted in my seat. I hadn’t liked it one bit, and immediately wanted to know names, how long they had lasted, and all the sordid details. But I wasn’t about to admit that to him.

  “Are you back to stay the night with me, Carolina?”

  My body answered before I could, and I found myself nodding. He stood and helped me up from the sofa. He then took me by surprise and lifted me off the ground. My legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms clutched around the back of his neck. It was amazing that he could carry me—I wasn’t a light little feather like Sara, but this man was strong.

  He kissed the tip of my nose before speaking again. “I won’t be able to take you leaving again. It will drive me to insanity. Please tell me you are here to stay.”

  “I think I am,” I said.

  “At least promise you won’t get mad at me again for the remainder of the night.”

  “You know I can’t promise that.”

  Hector squeezed my ass, and I squealed. “Could you at least try?” he asked.

  I nodded, and my jaw dropped when he carried me all the way upstairs and into his room without so much as a grunt.

  Once in his room, he pressed me up against a wall, and my legs unfurled away from him, my feet finding the ground once again. I took his shirt off over his head, and my hands explored his upper body.

  His shoulders and arms were massive, and his chest was firm, but his abdominal muscles weren’t too obvious. I’d never really understood the fascination most women have with a six-pack. Hector was slim at the waist. An understated shadow hinted at the muscles beneath his tanned skin, but there were no overly pronounced striations.