Page 11 of Never Again
“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 remained 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.”
She leaned toward him with imploring eyes. “I didn’t care about what you had or what you didn’t have. As far as I was concerned, there was no difference between us.”
