The Perfect Cazorla Wife

by Michelle Smart

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I don’t know. Going for a walk. I need to clear my head.’

  He heard her words but couldn’t comprehend them. ‘What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the night.’

  All the colour that had drained from her face came back in a dark flood that reached into her eyes. Her words were a rush. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this again.’

  Grabbing her bag, she slipped out of the car and slammed the door with so much force the Lotus shook.

  Raul stared at her rapidly retreating figure, his heart thumping, something sharp tearing at his throat.

  What the hell had just happened?

  It took a few heartbeats before the shock of her reaction dislodged and his body unfroze.

  He unbuckled his seat belt, jumped out and, ignoring the dozens of angry drivers honking and waving their fists at him, slammed his own door shut.

  For a moment he couldn’t see her and there were seconds when his heart seemed to stop with the panic of it all. Then he spotted her, already far in the distance in the middle of a crowded pavement.

  Charley slipped through the crowds and into a narrow side street where cars were banned, not knowing and not caring where she was going. All that mattered was escaping...

  A hand grabbed her arm. Her throat opened to scream but then she saw it was Raul who had hold of her.

  She yanked out of his grasp. ‘Raul, please, leave me be. I want to be on my own.’

  ‘It’s dark—it isn’t safe to be out here on your own.’

  People shuffled past giving them curious glances.

  Raul muttered something and tried to steer her away from the middle of the street. She shied away from his touch.

  Under the dim light of the streetlamp, she watched him run his fingers through his hair, his face a dark mask of grimness.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ he asked roughly.

  ‘Everything!’ And with that, the tears came, not huge sobs or little wails, but a sheet of water pouring out from her eyes over which she had no control. ‘Don’t you see? Nothing’s changed. How can you even think we should get back together on a permanent basis and have little Cazorlas when everything that drove us apart in the first place is still there? How could we bring babies into a marriage like that? How can we ever bring a baby into a marriage like that?’

  ‘But it isn’t the same. We’ve been better together this time. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘But that’s because we’ve known it’s only temporary.’

  He held his hands aloft in an imploring manner. ‘It could be for ever this time.’

  ‘We spent three years together thinking it was for ever and, you’re right, it was all a lie. I was so desperate to meet your expectations of perfection that I lost sight of who I was, and that person is not someone who fits into your world.’

  ‘I have never expected perfection from you.’ His breathing had become ragged. ‘When I met you I lived in a bubble. All my life had been spent in it, a life of wealth and privilege where the most important thing was to keep up the public face. You were the first person outside of that bubble that I noticed. I fell for you the first moment I saw you. All I wanted to do was scoop you up and pull you into the bubble with me and protect you. Can you understand that?’

  ‘Yes, I can, but can’t you understand that your bubble suffocated me? I wanted so desperately to make you proud, to be the perfect wife, to hold my own beside you, to give you the beautiful mini Cazorlas we both wanted—and I did want them too, I really did, but I needed to find my self-respect first. I never found it with you because the pressure of living up to the perfection of your life was just too much.’

  The walls of the surrounding buildings seemed to close in on her, crowding her, squeezing her, like creatures from the horror film her fairy-tale marriage had turned into.

  She gazed at him, feeling an almost unbearable sadness loom down on her. He looked haggard, as if he’d been told his entire fortune had been lost for ever.

  ‘Raul, your whole life is about perfection. Perfect business, perfect house, perfect car, perfect wife, perfect everything. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Look at the new centre for Poco Rio—when it’s done it will be perfect and that will be down to you.’

  She wiped the tears away only to find a fresh torrent pouring down. ‘I’m sorry. We’re just too different, don’t you see that? What we had should never have been more than a summer fling. I can’t do it. I can’t live that life again. I can’t live permanently with you again.’

  God forgive her, she knew she was being unfair and cruel but fear had caught her in its grip so tightly she would have said anything to relinquish it.

  And Raul...forget losing his fortune, he looked as if he’d had all the stuffing knocked out of him.

  ‘Answer me this,’ he said, his voice hollow. ‘If you don’t want me, what do you want?’

  That brought her up short.

  ‘I don’t know. All I know is I don’t want to lose sight of who I am again. I just want to be me, Charley.’ She raised her shoulders and stared at him. ‘I want to be happy.’

  ‘And you don’t think you can be happy with me?’

  ‘No. I can’t be happy with you.’

  A shudder ran through her at the same time his face blanched.

  She wished she could take it back, all her words, or soften them somehow. But she couldn’t. The words wouldn’t form.

  Raul shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and straightened, visibly composing himself. ‘If that’s how you feel, there’s no point in prolonging this conversation any further. I’ll drive you home’

  ‘To my house here?’

  He gave a sharp nod, not looking at her. ‘If that is what you want.’

  ‘I think that would be for the best.’

  On shaking legs, Charley walked back to the Lotus, which was still abandoned in the middle of the road, headlights still beaming.

  Not a single word was exchanged until they pulled up onto her small driveway, the outside lights switching on automatically and bathing them in colour.

  His gaze fixed ahead, Raul said, ‘I’ll arrange for your stuff to be couriered back to you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And I’ll get Ava to liaise with you about the cruise fundraiser.’

  All she managed was a nod, her throat so tight it felt as if she were choking.

  When she got out of the car she shut the door softly, sending a silent apology for all the times she’d slammed it in anger.

  Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

  She fumbled in her bag for her door key, having a moment of panic as she wondered if she’d taken it out at some point over the past few months. Her fingers gripped on the cold metal...

  ‘Charley.’

  She looked back to see Raul standing by his door. ‘The new centre... It was you, not me. Everything it is and everything it will be is because of you.’

  It wasn’t until she stepped into her home and locked the front door that her legs gave way.

  He’d called her Charley.

  Back to the wall, she slid onto the floor, curled into a ball and sobbed so hard her broken heart shattered all over again.

  * * *

  Raul let himself into the villa and threw his keys on the sideboard.

  The house sat in silence, the staff having long retired for the night.

  He rubbed his temples and headed to the bar. After fixing himself a neat Gin de Mahón, he sat on a stool, used the remote to turn the television on, and flicked through the sports channels until he found the highlights of the evening’s La Liga games.

  Sipping at his drink, he concentrated on watching Barcelona demolish Celta Viga. There were some good goals to en
joy and ordinarily he would have been cheering his home team on. Football. His guilty pleasure.

  Tonight, though, he was distracted. Something in his trouser pocket was digging into the top of his thigh. He should pick it out.

  Instead, he waited for the adverts to finish, swallowed his drink and poured himself another.

  The damn thing still dug into him.

  With a grimace, he shoved his hand into the pocket and fished the small square box out. Without looking at it, he stuck it on the bar and shoved it away from him. He heard it slide across the marble.

  Another game had started. He had no idea which teams were playing.

  His eyes kept flitting to the box, still in its wrapping paper. It had landed right at the edge of the bar, part of it overhanging.

  When he next picked up his glass his hand had gone clammy. All his skin had dampened, as if he’d caught a fever of the flesh his brain hadn’t registered. Just as he thought it, his forehead began to burn and pound and his stomach contracted.

  I’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with me.

  But he hadn’t eaten. Charley had wanted to leave before they’d really started on their first course.

  Charley...

  He was off the stool and reaching for the box before he could stop himself. Feeling as if his heart could burst through his ribcage, he ripped the wrapping paper off and popped the lid open.

  For a moment he couldn’t see for the film that had formed over his eyes. He blinked it away and stared at the contents of the box. The longer he stared, the greater the nausea formed inside him until he could bear it no more and, using all his strength, threw the box at the optics behind the bar, hitting the vodka, the power behind the throw enough to smash the bottle.

  He laughed as the smell of alcohol immediately filled the space, was still laughing when he swallowed his Gin de Mahón in one and threw the empty glass at the bottle of single malt whisky. Only the glass smashed.

  The laughter died as quickly as it had formed as he surveyed the shattered glass around him.

  He couldn’t make her happy.

  All his attempts to protect her had backfired. He’d suffocated her.

  All Charley saw when she reflected on their marriage was unobtainable levels of perfection she didn’t believe she could reach. Just as he’d always known he would never be able to reach the levels of perfection his own father had demanded of him.

  He clutched at his hair so tightly small strands were locked between his fingers when he pulled them away.

  Had he really become his father?

  All he’d wanted was to please her and make her happy but all he’d done was drive her away just as his own father had driven him away.

  The happy ending he’d envisaged for them and had dared hope could be a reality had been cut out from beneath him.

  He couldn’t make her happy. She didn’t want for ever with him.

  Holding onto the bar to steady himself, he breathed deeply.

  It would pass, he told himself. It had passed last time, it would pass again.

  But the pain...

  It was intolerable.

  The shattered glass was nothing compared to the shattered mess that was his heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHARLEY FLOPPED ONTO her sofa and buried her face in her hands.

  She didn’t think she’d ever felt so exhausted. It wasn’t even as if she’d had a particularly busy day. She’d worked at Poco Rio but it hadn’t been strenuous, not like some days there could be. She’d then had dinner at her mum’s house as her grandma’s hip was much improved. They’d had a microwave meal for two, just like the old days.

  She should be happy. She had a roof above her head, food in her belly, her mum back on her doorstep and the new centre was progressing nicely, the fundraising cruise was days away...

  Oh, but she was going to have to see Raul.

  She’d debated not attending, but when she’d told Ava she thought she should stay away Ava had clearly ratted her out to the boss because she’d received a terse email from Raul saying that if she didn’t attend he would call the whole thing off.

  The email had ended with a postscript: Charley, this is a result of your hard work. Enjoy it, please—you’ve earned it.

  His words had played in her mind since she’d received them.

  He’d addressed her as Charley.

  He’d also called her that from his car.

  Oh, but she missed him, a pain like nothing she’d experienced before, not even when their marriage had fallen apart the first time.

  She’d spent over two months practically glued to his side. In that time they’d spent only two nights apart, when he’d travelled to Brazil. Right before she’d left him a second time...

  Her head began to swim. All the thoughts and feelings she’d studiously avoided and denied these past few weeks crowded in on her with a force that could no longer be ignored.

  Was it coincidence she’d broken their relationship on the very day her dad had stood her up again, on her birthday, and after she’d spent two restless nights missing Raul, imagining all the beautiful women who would be on his radar?

  Could she...?

  Was it possible...?

  She straightened.

  Was it possible she’d sabotaged their relationship deliberately, out of fear? Because Raul had been right, this time round, once they’d got over their loathing of each other and started to forgive the past, their relationship had been better than she could have dreamed. It had been everything she could have wanted. Raul had been everything she could have wanted. They’d been completely at ease with each other. Honest. Without pretence. Equals.

  And she’d thrown it all away.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  Was she really going to let fear ruin the rest of her life?

  Was she really going to let Raul pay for the sins of her father? Because surely that was where it all originated? A lifetime of feeling replaceable had crept into her psyche and made her believe it to be gospel. Rather than wait for Raul to leave her for someone more suitable, someone less replaceable, she’d run away.

  But he didn’t want someone more suitable.

  He wanted her.

  He loved her.

  She sat up straight, suddenly as certain of something as she’d ever been in all her life.

  Raul loved her with all her imperfections.

  She jumped to her feet, bouncing, then slumped back down as another thought occurred to her.

  He might love her but she’d hurt him badly. His pride was enormous and she’d wounded it, not once, but twice.

  He might not want to listen to her. Even if he did listen, he could still walk away.

  Oh, get some backbone, she snapped at herself. If he walks away it’ll be nothing less than you deserve. You’ll still live.

  Better to try than spend the rest of her life wondering what if.

  But before she could do anything, she realised there was something that needed to be taken care of first.

  She’d spent the years of their marriage searching for her self-respect. Somewhere in their short second time together, she’d found it. She didn’t know where or when but it had nestled inside her. And now she needed to claim it. Until she claimed it and embraced it, she would never be free to love Raul properly, as he deserved to be loved, and nor would she be free to accept his love as she deserved. Because she did deserve love. They both did.

  Reaching for her phone, she dialled. After a few rings it went to voicemail. She dialled again. The same thing happened.

  She would keep trying until her dad answered. After all, he kept his phone on him all the time when he was with her, holding it in his hands while they chatted, or on the table by his cutlery whi
le they ate.

  On the fifth attempt her dad answered. He sounded breathless. ‘Charley?’

  ‘Hi, Dad.’ She took a deep breath and plunged straight in. ‘I just wanted to let you know I won’t be coming to visit you on Thursday. I’ll wire the money you asked for but that will be the last of any money you’ll get from me. If you need any more, get a job.’

  He spluttered down the line, his words unintelligible.

  ‘I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you,’ she continued. ‘I love you very much but I won’t wait any more.’

  Swiping at her phone to end the call, Charley closed her eyes. After a few moments she opened them and expelled a long breath.

  That had felt good. Sad, but good.

  How could her father or anyone respect her if she didn’t respect herself?

  Respect had to be earned and that included self-respect.

  And as she thought all this, something else struck her, something that made her sit bolt upright and clutch at her heart...

  * * *

  Raul stood in the golden atrium of his new cruise liner, smile fixed to his face, shaking the hands of his guests as they were led through by his crew.

  Charley was here somewhere. She’d been aboard since early morning, working with Ava and other members of his executive team to ensure everything was ready.

  He hadn’t seen her yet.

  He hadn’t seen her in the three weeks since he’d dropped her back at her tiny house.

  He hadn’t spoken to her either. Other than the one email he’d felt compelled to send her when Ava had mentioned Charley was thinking of not coming, there had been no direct contact.

  Soon the atrium was full, ladies beautiful in their fanciest dresses, the men dashing in their tuxedos, the heavy scent of perfume and cologne filling the air. He gritted his teeth and forced a welcoming smile as he saw his parents and sister arrive, Marta pushing their father’s wheelchair.

  He cut through the crowd to them, kissing them all. It was the first time he’d seen them since he’d dropped Charley back at her house in Valencia. He’d cancelled the meal he was supposed to attend at his family’s house last weekend.