Page 5 of Never Again
“What?”
“We sold out! All the tickets are gone!” Natalie squealed, throwing up her hands.
Carmen let out an equally loud squeal of happiness and jumped up from the chair. She gave her friend a big hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I know, I know. Isn’t that crazy?”
Carmen sank onto the sofa. “It’s not crazy because I knew you could do it.”
Natalie took her hand and squeezed. “Thank you for encouraging me to step out on faith. And I know you’ll be just as successful working on these new locations for your father.”
Carmen shrugged, pretending she wasn’t that concerned, but she was terrified of failure. At one point in time, she had told her father she was not interested in the business. She had fully intended to walk away from her family to be with Carlos. Since then, she’d done a complete one-eighty, and though her father had welcomed her into the corporate offices, he had reservations. Because of her previous lack of interest, he doubted her dedication and desire to stick around and work in the company.
“We’ll see what happens. Until then, I know what I’ll be doing in two weeks.”
Natalie grinned, unable to repress her excitement. “Youwill be attending the first Chocolate Art Affair by Natalie Crimson.” She threw up her hands. “Heyyyy,” she sang, gyrating in the seat.
Carmen laughed and started dancing on the sofa, too, genuinely excited for her friend. No one was more deserving of success than Natalie, and she gladly went along for the ride.
Later, Carmen went into her room to get some work done and removed her phone from her purse. She checked the screen and saw she had one missed voicemail from her sister and a text from a friend.
Two hours later, and still nothing from Carlos. Had she taken his number, she would have called immediately to set up a time to meet up again. But that was the difference between them that she’d always been loath to acknowledge.
Ever since the beginning, she’d known that she’d loved him way more than he loved her.
3
Carlos handed over his ticket and walked into the packed venue.
Initially, he hadn’t planned on attending the Chocolate Art Affair, but the event had received quite a bit of buzz in the art community, and his agent had encouraged him to go. More of these events were popping up to promote art, where attendees were not only fed, but entertained while being exposed to different art mediums. He considered tonight an opportunity to information gather and see if he wanted to participate in similar ones in the future.
A wide range of people milled about—different ages and ethnicities, art lovers and pretenders. Abstract paintings filled the first room, and attendees stared up at large and small canvases in either wonder or confusion. In the center of the room, several tables displayed hand-made jewelry consisting of precious and semi-precious stones. There was plenty of conversation, and the sound of live music came from somewhere deeper in the warehouse.
As Carlos strolled through, a couple of paintings caught his eye, but nothing that tempted him to purchase a piece. He stopped in front of one in particular that gave him an idea for one of his own works. Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied the strokes and design and then moved farther into the warehouse where the real action was.
He took the three steps down to the concrete floor where a plethora of artists—sculptors, painters, crafters—had assembled, and a band playing soft rock performed on a stage. On the other side of the room, directly across from the musicians, a long line snaked from the open bar and tables overflowed with snacks, including two chocolate fountains—one offering white chocolate and the other offering milk chocolate.
Carlos perused the artists’ works, stopping for a few minutes to admire a guy painting a landscape on a semi-nude model on a pedestal. Another sold prints, and still another painted portraits on a ten-by-ten canvas. With so much activity and energy in the air, he could be here for several hours, and he’d be energized and inspired for days—possibly weeks—to come.
He strolled over to where a woman displayed ceramic vases of different sizes on a couple of tables. They were attention-grabbing, and he considered getting one as a gift for his mother. For years she placed fresh flowers in their home, bringing a splash of color into often drab surroundings.
“How much is this one?”
About to pick up one of the vases, the question made him freeze. Slowly, Carlos turned toward the sound of Carmen’s voice and saw her in front of a table filled with handmade dolls.
She looked like she’d been poured into a pair of skin-hugging denim capris and a beige skintight blouse with short sleeves. Wearing her hair in a topknot exposed her neck, reminding him of kissing that sensitive skin and drawing in a deep breath filled with the scent of roses. Carmen used rosewater as an astringent after she cleansed her face and spritzed it on multiple times during the day.
The vendor must have answered her, but he only heard Carmen’s voice. “That’s a good deal. In that case, I’ll take two,” she said.
He stared at the back of her head, trying to decide what to do. Stay or go? He hadn’t called since he saw her two weeks ago, but she was right there, giving him another opportunity to connect.
Carlos swallowed hard. Would she even want to talk to him?
Didn’t matter. He’d regretted deleting her number and wanted to talk to her.
She handed over some cash, and while she waited for the woman to wrap the dolls, Carlos walked up beside her.
“Hi, Carmen.”
