“This is between you and me,” she said in a hard voice.
She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses but knew he was looking at her because his head tilted down.
“Your father wouldn’t approve of this, Miss Reeves,” he said in his heavy baritone, even heavier because he didn’t like what she was about to do.
“My father doesn’t have to know about my visit with Carlos. Don’t say a word, understand?”
He slammed the door shut.
“Franklin.” She spoke in a harder tone now.
“I understand, Miss Reeves.” A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Good. And another thing, you can go home. I’ll catch a cab when I’m ready to go back to Nat’s.”
He observed her in silence.
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Very well,” he said in a clipped voice.
Carmen walked to the door, punched in the code Carlos had given her, and entered the building. Once inside, she waved at Franklin through the closing glass door, who had waited on the sidewalk beside the car to make sure she’d safely entered the building. He nodded and walked around to the driver’s side of the car.
She didn’t stick around to see him drive away. Instead of taking the elevator, she took the stairs to the second floor and turned the corner. Carlos had given her his apartment number, but with only a small number of apartments in the building, she easily found his.
She didn’t know what to expect this evening and walked to the door, running clammy hands down her hips. Nauseous, her insides undulated like waves. Why was she so nervous? Because she wanted him to like what he saw. Because she’d come here with memories of heated kisses and torrid interludes in secret. They had never been able to keep their hands off each other, and after three long years, she wondered if that had changed.
She’d taken great care with her appearance. In addition to a layered trim and style, she wore a strapless romper that tapered to her tight calves and showed off her toned arms. The floral print hugged her hips and ass, and the elastic waistband emphasized the curve in her waist. In addition, she smelled good and her nails were done. She didn’t know what the outcome of tonight would be, but she secretly hoped it included wild, uninhibited sex that gave her plenty of memories to take back to Canada and get her through the humdrum nights sure to follow.
Carmen wiggled her fingers nervously and then knocked on the metal door. When Carlos opened it, her heart thudded a more rapid, relentless beat in her chest, as if she hadn’t been expecting him.
“I’m here,” she said breathlessly, cheeks heating with the way his dark eyes deliberately drifted over her body.
Carlos smiled as if her arrival was the best news he’d heard in a long time. “Come on in.”
Carmen shoved her hands into the romper pockets and walked slowly into the apartment, high heels clicking on the slate gray tile. The first thing she saw was a white cat with a burgundy collar strolling across the floor.
“That’s Sofia. Ignore her, because she’ll ignore you,” he said.
The joke eased the tension, and she laughed, letting him lead the way into the middle of what would be considered a living room, but the loft was one gigantic space with no separation of rooms.
“Let me show you around. Over there is the kitchen.” Open shelves displayed glass dishes and small kitchen appliances. Stainless steel appliances lined one wall, with a huge window that ran the length of the sink and part of the granite countertop.
Carmen sniffed the air. “Mmm. The food smells delicious.”
“Wait till you taste it,” Carlos said with a wide grin. He was in an even better mood than the two nights before. “Dining area, living room, and bedroom,” he said, pointing out each in turn.
The so-called bedroom contained a king-size bed with white sheets and white pillowcases in a corner of the loft. The wrought-iron headboard was pushed up against the brick wall, and to the right of it was another huge window that looked out onto the building next door.
“You get lots of light in here,” she remarked.
He nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I rented the place. It’s great for when I’m working.” Carlos strolled toward the bed and turned right, which took them to a space that was clearly his studio.
A gray couch faced the window in front of a low-sitting table that looked quite heavy. Behind the couch were an easel and a wide, two-door metal closet.
“Is this all your work?” She strolled over to the different sized canvases stacked against the wall.
“Some. I took those out to show you. The rest are in that closet or on display at local galleries.”
She faced him. “I’m so proud of you, that you’re doing what you love and making a living at it.”
He nodded, his eyes trained on her in an assessing way. “It is pretty amazing. I never expected to have this much success, but the Atlanta area is very welcoming and appreciates art and artists.” He angled his head toward the kitchen. “We’ll have plenty of time to go through my work, but I promised you dinner. The lomo saltado is finished, but I thought we’d start with a simple fish ceviche. Care to help me in the kitchen?”
“I’d love to.” They’d cooked together in the past, and she liked the idea of doing it again.
While Carmen washed her hands, Carlos removed the ingredients—sea bass, limes, a paste made of aji amarillo—a mild yellow pepper, garlic paste he’d probably made himself, red onions, and corn.
Though half Chilean, Carlos had a greater affinity for the Peruvian side of his ethnicity because he was born in Peru and had grown up under his mother’s influence after his father passed away. And with Peru being the gastronomic star of South America, it was no wonder he enjoyed cooking.
Carmen had tasted his mother’s ceviche before. Azucena always prepared a mixed seafood version, with not only fish but scallops, clams, and octopus. She served it in the traditional Peruvian manner, accompanied by sweet potato, onions, boiled corn, and fried corn kernels. Very filling, it could be eaten as a meal, but tonight they’d have a simpler version as an appetizer.
“Where’d you get the fish?” Carmen asked, as they worked side by side. She halved the limes and thinly sliced the onions while Carlos cut the meaty fish into bite-sized chunks.
“There’s a market nearby where I get most of my groceries, and they have great fish and meat and vegetables.”
They placed all the ingredients in a bowl and mixed them together, and then Carlos squeezed lime juice over all of it and stirred the contents again. While the fish “cooked,” he poured a glass of white wine.
“Thanks for your help,” he said, handing her the glass.
“This is a nice reward for my work.” Carmen observed him over the rim of the glass as he replaced the stoppered bottle in the refrigerator.
She longed to run her fingers through the loosely curled hair sitting on his shoulders. He wore a thin shirt, his back muscles evident beneath the gray cotton, while the short sleeves allowed her to admire his ropy, veined arms.
“I’ve put you to work, so now I’m going to have you sit down. I promise you won’t have to work anymore tonight,” he said with a smile.
“I don’t mind,” Carmen replied.
“I insist.” He placed warm hands on her bare shoulders and steered her toward the table beside the window. Carmen sat down, resisting the urge to shiver at his touch.
Because of the loft’s open floor plan, she could keep her eyes on Carlos. He pulled wide-mouthed glasses from one of the open shelves, and as she watched him work, she couldn’t help but wonder how many women he’d brought here and done the same for—cooking and making them feel special.
She chided herself for those types of thoughts. Of course he’d been with other women during their time apart. Once the pain of losing him had worn off, she hadn’t been celibate, either.
Carmen sipped the dry wine as Carlos gathered plates and silverware. “Do you mostly have showings around town?” she asked.
<
br /> “Mostly, though I travel occasionally, too. I get invited to galleries or other events fairly often nowadays.” He brought over the dishes and set the table, placing a white plate and silverware in front of her.
“Do you like what you’re doing?” She studied his expression.
He paused. “Working full-time as an artist is better than I thought it would be. Literally a dream come true.” A wry smile, then he went back to work.
Carmen was happy for Carlos, but a little piece of her heart tightened with pain. She’d only ever wanted the best for him, but her father had made their relationship a minefield that had been hard to navigate. Carlos hadn’t deserved his contempt. He had deserved to be admired and lauded for his skills. She was glad that he’d at least achieved a fragment of the success he’d wanted.
He dimmed the lights, which made their voices lower as they chatted a bit more, killing time until the ceviche was ready. Once it was, he spooned a serving for each of them into the glasses, sprinkled on chopped cilantro, and set a glass before her.
Then he brought over a Dutch oven with the lomo saltado, the delicious aroma filling the air around them though the dish was covered. They ate the ceviche first, and she rolled her eyes at how delicious the dish, made with simple ingredients, tasted.
“Good?” Carlos asked, a smile tugging at the left corner of his mouth.
“You know it is.”
He grinned with satisfaction.
“So, tell me about your family. How’s your mom?”
“She’s well. She has her own business now—a store importing Peruvian products.”
“What? How did that happen?”
“She’s always wanted to have a store, a business of her own, but money…well, you know the situation. She was a single mother raising five kids, which wasn’t easy. She did her best after my father died, but life was still hard. She had this dream to open her own store and used to tell me about it all the time, but I think she always assumed it would be out of reach. I think she doubted she could pull it off but never stopped saving. Unfortunately, something would always happen, and she’d have to use the money she saved. It was more of an emergency fund than a business fund.”
“That must have been very frustrating,” Carmen said quietly. She’d never had to save for anything. If she wanted a car, a dress, a piece of jewelry, she had the means to buy them.
Carlos nodded and finished chewing a piece of fish. “It was hard to watch, so I can’t imagine how difficult it was for her to live through.” He frowned, moving some fish around with his fork. “Anyway, she eventually got the money together and started her business. She leased a place and started importing items—ponchos, textiles, scarves, gloves, everything. A year ago, my sister helped her set up a website, and now she also fills online orders. My siblings work with her. In fact, Jesús has saved some money for when he goes off to university.”
“Wow. I’m so happy for your mom—for all of you.”
Another wry smile. “I’m glad she was able to realize her dream, and because of that, my siblings have work and my brother can afford to attend any university he wishes,” he said.
“That should be cause for celebration, but you look disheartened. Aren’t you happy for them?”
“Oh absolutely! It’s just...it all came at a cost, that’s all.”
“What cost?” Carmen asked. She’d stopped eating, completely absorbed in learning about his family and what had happened since she and he split.
He gazed into her eyes. “Personal stuff. I’ll tell you one day.”
She saw sadness in his eyes, and though she wanted to know more, she didn’t push. He’d give her the details when he was ready.
5
Carlos spooned chunks of meat, onion, and tomato next to the rice on each of their plates. Though lomo saltado was usually served with French fries or potatoes, he knew Carmen preferred the dish without them, so he hadn’t prepared any.
He poured red wine in her glass, but she halted him with her hand. “That’s enough.”
“You don’t like the Bordeaux?” He thought it went well with the sirloin he’d used to make the dish.
“It’s delicious, but you know I get sleepy when I drink,” she reminded him.
“Oh, that’s right.” He’d forgotten, though he liked the idea of her getting drowsy and spending the night curled up against him like she used to.
“This is so good, though,” Carmen said.
They ate in silence for a bit as they enjoyed the meal. After a few minutes, she ran a hand down her thighs and cleared her throat. “So, it sounds like your mother’s business is thriving.”
He smiled. He could sit in silence for hours, maybe because he’d grown up in cramped spaces that he had shared with four other siblings, and peace and quiet had been a luxury. Meanwhile, she’d grown up in a large home, her bedroom suite almost as big as his family’s entire apartment, so she always needed to fill quiet moments because she’d been alone so much.
Carlos nodded. “I’ve never seen her happier. My brothers and sisters are doing well, too. Jesús graduated from high school this year.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, little Jesús?” Her tinkling laugh filled the air.
Carlos was the second of five, and Jesús was the youngest. “Little Jesús isn’t so little anymore. He’s as tall as I am and has been lifting weights. You probably wouldn’t recognize him if you saw him. He’s big and muscular now.”
“So I take it you don’t put him in head locks anymore?” Carmen asked, amusement filling her eyes.
“No way,” Carlos said with vehemence.
They both had a good laugh, and then he caught her up on the rest of his siblings.
“Sounds like everyone’s doing well,” Carmen commented.
Carlos studied his plate, knowing it was polite to ask about her family, too, but he didn’t want to because of his history with them. With her father, specifically, but he was curious about the twins, her younger siblings.
Suck it up, he told himself. “And how is your family?”
“Do you really want to know?” she asked softly.
“I do. Especially about your brother and sister.”
The twins were nine years younger because her parents had taken a break from having children after she was born so they could concentrate on building the Fit Body Gyms business. Once they were satisfied with their progress, they wanted to have two more children and were lucky enough to have two at the same time.
“So… Charlie has a girlfriend now, a really sweet girl he met in the chess club at school. Daniela is showing lots of interest in the arts. She’s really into theater and is amazing on the piano, so of course my parents are fostering those talents.”
“Of course. And what about you?”
“Nothing special.” Carmen shrugged with one shoulder.
“But you’re here on business for your father, so ‘nothing special’ doesn’t seem like the right answer. You’re certainly more involved in the company than you used to be.”
She swallowed, and he tracked the movement along her neck.
She lifted the glass of wine from the table and stared down into it. “If you’re going to say something to make me feel bad about working for the business, I don’t want to hear it.”
Carlos willed her downcast eyes to lift to his. “That wasn’t my intention. Actually, I’m happy for you.”
Her gaze met his. “Happy for me? Why? What does that even mean, Carlos?”
“It means this is where you should have been, and—”
“And you breaking up with me allowed me to reach for my destiny and my full potential?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Even in the dim light, he couldn’t miss the flash of annoyance in her dark eyes.
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He rubbed a thumb along the stem of his glass and studied the ruby-red liquid for a while as he tried to find the right words. “We both know you would not have worked in your father’s company if we’d rema
ined together. You’re happy, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “I am,” she said quietly.
Deep down, he had hoped she’d give a different answer. If she’d given a different answer, that could have been the opening for him to admit he’d made a mistake and regretted leaving her in Toronto. Seeing her flourish without him meant he’d done the right thing, but it hurt because it meant she was better off without him in her life, and he’d selfishly hoped that wasn’t true. A punch to the gut would have been less painful.
Carlos cut into his meat and suddenly wished he hadn’t invited her over for dinner.
“But I could have been happier,” Carmen said in a low voice—so low, he barely heard her and wasn’t sure he’d heard what he thought she said.
They stared at each other.
“I could have been happier, too,” he admitted.
“So you regret leaving me?” He heard the tremble of hesitancy in her voice. Like him, she asked a question but was afraid to hear the answer.
He had so many regrets. “I’ve regretted leaving every day for the past three years.”
For a split second, her face crumbled, but she fought back the surge of tears. She set down her silverware and took a tremulous breath. “Why did you leave, and why didn’t you take me with you?”
“I told you why I left, Carmen. What could I have possibly offered you? Your father was right.”
“No, he wasn’t,” she said in a firm voice.
Looking deeply into her eyes, Carlos was determined to make her understand. “He was. You can’t imagine the kind of life you would have lived with me. I did things I’m not proud of to survive. I stole, Carmen. I stole gas for my car, I stole canned goods when I was hungry, I dined and dashed.” His cheeks flushed with the shame and guilt of his behavior. “Being poor isn’t noble or romantic. It’s hard and stressful. You wouldn’t have enjoyed that life with me. Even when my father was alive, we didn’t have much. I grew up in poverty, and I’m very clear about its limitations. Then I became a struggling artist, with no real future, and you were—are—a woman with her whole future ahead of her, including a successful business enterprise. If you didn’t want to work again, you wouldn’t have to.”
Never Again: a second chance romance (Quicksand Book 3) Page 3