“I’m so sorry,” Graciela said.
“I’ll be fine…eventually.”
Carmen knew from experience that this feeling of loss would not easily disappear. She should have listened to Natalie—managed her expectations and taken things slow.
She had left Atlanta, a city where the metropolitan area included millions of inhabitants, because it had not been big enough for her to avoid thoughts of Carlos. Particularly since he had been so relentless in trying to reach her, going so far as to come to Natalie’s apartment the same day that she had confronted him about the money.
In her heart of hearts, she still wanted a future with him. Now that the anger had passed, longing had taken its place. Maybe there was something wrong with her, but she’d always been the type who loved hard.
She still felt Carlos everywhere. So ridding him from her mind would be difficult. She couldn’t face going home yet because he had spent time at her apartment, and the memories of them laughing together and making love tormented her too much. He had left a mark in every aspect of her life, simply by being.
“You should not be going through this. Your father loves you and wants the best for you, and usually I don’t interfere in his decisions. But if I had known what he planned to do, I would have stopped him. I see how much this hurts you, and it’s not right. He was wrong for what he did.”
“No, actually, he was right. No matter how much I hate what he did, in his own twisted way, he proved what he had been saying all along about Carlos. He only cared about the money and what he could financially get out of our relationship. As soon as Daddy offered him money, he disappeared. He left the country to pursue his dreams and live a life without me in it. He didn’t care about me.” Her voice cracked at the end.
“I don’t believe that,” Graciela said.
A tear slipped from the corner of Carmen’s eye and slid down the side of her nose. Angrily, she wiped it away. She had thought she was done crying, but it seemed the tears would never end.
Graciela took her hand. “You might not be ready to hear these words yet, but I saw how Carlos looked at you. He looked at you the way Alfred used to and still looks at me—with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. He made the wrong decision, yes, but I don’t doubt that he loved you. I believe the decision to accept the money was an act of desperation.”
Her mother was correct—she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to listen to an argument in favor of Carlos. Not with such fresh, deep wounds. Not when he’d had every opportunity to tell the truth but had chosen not to.
“You and Carlos belong together,” her mother said quietly. “Go be with your young man. I’ll deal with your father.” Her last sentence held a steely note.
Carmen shook her head. She looked at her mother, grateful for the words she spoke but knowing they made no difference. “I can’t go to him. I don’t believe in him anymore.”
He had broken her heart twice, and she would not give him the opportunity to do so a third time.
“Thanks for seeing me.” Carlos entered Rashad’s office.
The flamboyant financial planner wore a purple suit today and the usual diamond earrings in his ears. By the way he eyed Carlos, he probably looked like a big mess, the way he felt.
Carlos hadn’t shaved in days and had barely slept during that same period. Yesterday, after two weeks, he finally gave up calling and texting Carmen. She hadn’t responded to any of his messages—verbal or written—or to the flowers he’d sent, and she’d blocked his number.
“Not a problem. You didn’t sound good, so I knew the situation was serious. Besides, I meant what I said when I told you that you could come to me if you ever needed someone to talk to.” The chair squeaked as Rashad laid his arms on the rests and leaned back, waiting for Carlos to proceed.
Carlos dropped onto the chair opposite Rashad, weary with the burden of his thoughts and the inability to fix the mess his relationship with Carmen had become. He couldn’t accept that it was over.
He launched into an explanation of their meeting and courtship, as well as their break-up three years go. Shamefaced, he explained about the money he’d accepted from Alfred, recounted the argument in his apartment that made Carmen leave, and ended with the torture of no contact the past two weeks. When he finished, he sat quietly and waited.
Rashad had listened as he talked, nodding every now and again but overall not revealing any emotion or judgment in his expressions.
“Well, now I understand why you wanted the money from your retirement account so badly.”
Carlos nodded and ran fingers through his rumpled curls. “In a nutshell. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve felt as if my life is at a standstill. I’m still going through the motions—painting, eating, drinking, sleeping when I’m able. But that’s all they are—motions. I don’t feel anything. Nothing gives me joy.”
If he could, he’d stay in bed all day every day, but he had obligations. He had a commissioned piece to complete, but he’d already asked for an extension and pushed back the date of delivery.
“Since she blocked my number, I tried calling her at work, but I can’t get through there, either. She’s completely cut me off.”
He thought about enlisting his mother to get a message to Carmen but changed his mind. He didn’t want to get her involved, and further, he didn’t want her to feel guilty. He never told her where he got the money to help her open the store, send money back home to family, and get himself out of Toronto. He hinted that it had come from a wealthy benefactor, and that alone made her feel bad that maybe she’d taken money from him that he’d earned.
But he hadn’t earned a dime of it. The funds were tarnished, which was why he hadn’t had the heart to keep but a small portion. At the time, it had seemed like so much money. Life-changing—and it had been. In more ways than one.
Rashad sat forward and folded his hands together on the desktop. “Listen, I don’t know Carmen, but it sounds like you really love this woman. My question to you is, what are you willing to do to get her back? From what you’ve told me, calling and texting ain’t working.”
“I’m willing to do anything. I’m willing to lose everything. More than everything, to have her back in my life.”
Rashad sat back with a smile befitting an ancient wise man. “Then maybe that’s your answer.”
20
Carmen straightened the shawl around her shoulders against the chilly air. She’d hoped the night out would lift her spirits, but the opposite had happened. The show and dinner only reminded her of how much she missed Carlos because she wished she’d attended both of them with him.
She strolled toward the front of the building and stopped ten feet away, turning to face her date. Tyler stopped too. He looked questioningly into her face. He was handsome, with thick lips and almost flawless skin the color of cream-diluted coffee. Why couldn’t she feel anything more for him?
“This is it, isn’t it?” A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry. I just… My heart isn’t in it.”
He nodded. “I figured as much. You seemed distracted tonight, and after you explained the situation to me about your break-up with Carlos, I wondered if you were ready to start dating again. I see that you’re not.”
She hadn’t told him about Carlos taking the money, but she had told him that they had reunited and then broken up again.
“I’m not,” she admitted with regret.
“This is the part where you tell me it’s not me, it’s you. And that I’ll make some other woman a great boyfriend.”
She laughed, one of the first real laughs she’d had all night. “Do I really need to do that if you already know what needs to be said?”
“True. We’ll pretend you said all of that, and I will go on my way, gracefully.” He pulled her into a friendly hug and kissed her right cheek. “Just because we don’t work as a couple doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. Hopefully that guy Carlos will get his act together and treat y
ou the way you deserve.”
“He and I are done for good.”
Tyler studied her for a couple of beats. “Nah, I don’t think so. Good night, Carmen.”
“Good night, Tyler.”
She watched him walk away and then waved her card at the electronic keypad, and the doors slid apart to allow her in. She had gone only a short distance into the interior when she heard a male voice behind her.
“Back with Tyler?”
Not believing her ears, Carmen did a one-eighty spin and gasped when she saw Carlos. He’d slipped in behind her.
Her heart constricted at the sight of him in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and shiny black shoes. His long hair was neatly pulled back away from his face, and his features—the large nose, warm brown eyes, and olive-toned skin were so achingly familiar she wanted nothing less than to throw herself into his arms and sob with relief that he was there.
But what good would that do? Nothing had changed. He was still a liar. He’d still taken money to break her heart. But she had her doubts. Had she been too hard on him? Two hundred thousand dollars had been life-changing for the Hortados.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you because you wouldn’t take my calls and blocked my number. Are you back with him?” Tension reeked from his pores.
“No. And for the record, I was never with him before.” Carmen straightened, firming her resolve with the firming of her spine. “You should go.”
“Not before I’ve said what I came to say. Not before I tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am for what I did.”
“Forget about me.”
“I can’t. There’s no way I could forget about you unless someone wipes my memory clean.”
“Empty words that don’t mean anything. Love means nothing to you. You don’t understand the concept of love and sacrifice. Or maybe you do, but you don’t care. Either way, I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I suggest you fly back to Atlanta because you wasted your time coming here.”
Stay strong. Be hard. Don’t give in.
“I can’t go back to Atlanta,” Carlos said in a low tone.
“Am I supposed to ask why not?” A heavy dose of sarcasm rested in her voice.
“I don’t have anything to go back to.”
“What does that even mean?”
“My whole life is here now. I sold my car and broke the lease on the loft. I finished up my painting obligations, and then I sold or gave away the majority of my belongings. Sofia and I moved here, to Toronto. I’m staying at my mother’s until I find an apartment and can get back on my feet.”
“Wh…I…” Had she misunderstood? “Why would you do that?”
“Because I plan to win you back. You’re the most important thing in my life. Nothing matters without you in it.”
“So you walked away from your whole life?” she asked, aghast.
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous and crazy. It doesn’t make sense.” He’d had to build up a reputation in the art community, which had taken years to establish. He’d almost have to start all over.
“You were willing to walk away from your whole life for me.”
The gravity of his words hung in the air between them.
Carmen swallowed the lump in her throat. “Your decision to move here doesn’t change anything.”
“I know I still have work to do, but I wanted you to know. I’m serious, and I’m not giving up. I’m doing what I should have done back then. Trusted in us. Been willing to sacrifice.”
“But then your mother wouldn’t have her shop.” Despite her dismay at what he’d done, she could acknowledge that he’d used the money to benefit his family’s financial position and helped create a business that not only benefited his siblings, but was a potential inheritance for them.
“We could have found another way. I’m here, and I’m not leaving. I love you, Carmen, and I’m going to prove it, and I’m going to make you love me again.”
At the end, his voice became husky with emotion, and she had to look away as tears welled in her eyes unexpectedly. The elevator doors opened and a couple came out.
“Hi, Carmen,” the man and woman said in unison, casting curious eyes at Carlos.
She smiled faintly at them because she couldn’t speak. When they’d walked through the door, she ventured a look at Carlos.
“I meant every word,” he said in a solemn tone.
“We’ll see how serious you are.” Carmen’s hands tightened in the soft material of the shawl.
“We will. Good night, mi universo,” Carlos said softly.
He turned around, and a dizzying burst of panic seized Carmen. “Wait!” she said in a trembling voice.
Carlos turned to face her.
They stared at each other across the short distance, and then her feet moved quickly of their own volition. She flung herself into his open arms, and he squeezed her tight, lifting her from the ground and burying his face in her neck.
“Mi amor, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me, please. I’m losing my mind without you. Please.”
She nodded, unable to speak because of the glut of emotion in her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she squeezed them shut.
She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, but she finally looked up at him with watery eyes. “You’re really here for good?”
He nodded. Keeping her in the circle of one arm, his thumb wiped away a tear at the corner of her eye. “I missed you. Damn, I missed you.” He kissed her cheeks and lips and chin.
She’d wanted to punish him, but how could she, when he’d uprooted his life for her? When he stood here, in the flesh, begging for forgiveness. When she missed him so much that night after night she prayed for sleep to get a small respite from the ever-present ache in her chest.
Carmen smiled. “I missed you, too. Come up?”
“Absolutely.”
21
Carmen was more nervous than Carlos. But of course she was. He was accustomed to having showings over the years, and this was the first time she would attend one with him.
She was so proud of him. He had worked hard to establish a reputation in Toronto. Fortunately, he already had a strong portfolio, a website showcasing his work, and eventually found an agent here in Canada who helped him get established.
Six months had passed quickly, and his hard work paid off, culminating in tonight’s exhibition at a prestigious gallery. The walls displayed work he’d completed since his arrival and paintings he’d had shipped from the United States. The show had not officially begun yet, but people had already started trickling in. Off to the side, Carmen watched Carlos engage a potential buyer. The woman nodded as he spoke, and he gestured toward the painting, waving his hand across the width of the canvas as he explained.
His mother and siblings would arrive later, and Carmen’s mother had promised to come, as well. Alfred, however, had been noncommittal in his response to the invitation. When he’d learned Carmen had forgiven Carlos and they were not only back together but Carlos had returned to Toronto, he hadn’t been pleased. At least he hadn’t disowned her or forced her to leave the company.
When the woman walked away, Carlos strolled toward Carmen and she admired his leisurely gait in ripped jeans and a vintage jacket over a white V-neck T-shirt. He’d added a few more silver rings and another bracelet to the collection on his wrist.
He took her hand and smiled. “I think you’re more nervous than I am.”
She squeezed his fingers. “I am, but I’m also very proud of you.”
“I can’t wait for my family to get here, my mother especially. This will be the first time she’ll see me at a show.”
“I know she can’t wait. She could barely contain her excitement at dinner the other night,” Carmen commented with a laugh. She’d eaten dinner at the Hortados two nights ago. Carlos had still not received an invitation to the Reeves hom
e.
They spent a few minutes chatting with a local artist. Carmen sipped punch as she listened to her and Carlos discuss technique when movement near the door drew her attention. She froze when her father and mother entered the gallery. She and Carlos had expected Graciela to come, but not Alfred. She kept an eye on them as they scanned the walls filled with his paintings.
The gallery owner greeted her parents and handed over one of the flyers. Then Carmen and her father made eye contact, and he and Graciela excused themselves and started in their direction. Alfred’s grim expression didn’t bode well for the conversation to come. Her mother had probably dragged him there.
“My parents are here,” Carmen announced, her stomach knotting up.
Carlos twisted around, and his relaxed pose stiffened somewhat. “Excuse us,” he murmured to the other artist, giving her a brief smile.
“Sure. We’ll catch up later.” She sauntered away.
When her parents stopped in front of them, both couples greeted each other.
“What are you doing here?” Carmen directed the question at her father.
“Last I recall, I was invited,” Alfred said.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Well, I’m here.”
“Please don’t start anything.”
Graciela jumped into the conversation. “He won’t. He’s genuinely interested in Carlos’s work. Isn’t that right, papi?”
Alfred looked at his wife and then looked at Carmen and Carlos. “That’s what your mother wants me to say.”
Graciela pressed fingers to her temple and muttered something in Spanish.
“Daddy, please.”
“Mr. Reeves—” Carlos stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand.
“Would the three of you let me finish?” His gaze encompassed the small group. “As I was saying, your mother wanted me to say that I was genuinely interested and that’s why I came, but frankly, I wasn’t interested in Carlos’s work. I saw an advertisement for the show and was impressed and realized how talented you are, but that’s not why I came. I came because I want to give you something.”
Never Again: a second chance romance (Quicksand Book 3) Page 12