Page 7 of Never Again
A small smile came to her face. “And you could educate me on all the things I don’t know about art.”
He laughed softly, his body relaxing because being with Carmen made him feel as if nothing else mattered, and the weight of the world wasn’t so heavy after all. She’d always made him feel that way.
“So you’re going to listen to me go on and on?”
“Didn’t I always?”
“Yes, you did. You were always very supportive, and I appreciated that.”
She glanced down at her feet, as if embarrassed by the compliment. But what he said was true. She had always been supportive and simply encouraging.
Other than his family, she was the one person he could count on to make him feel as if he wasn’t wasting his time with his dreams about being an artist. She made him believe that the talent he had acquired without any formal training was worth exploring and pursuing as a career.
“Where do you want to start?”
“How about right there?” She pointed at a woman drawing caricatures using charcoal.
They strolled over to the booth and so began the night visiting with the vendors and buying gifts for themselves and family. They lingered at some tables longer than others, and sometimes Carlos talked shop with the other artists and explained a technique to Carmen when she inquired about a vendor’s handiwork. They indulged in the hors d’oeuvres, and when Carlos ran into people he knew on two separate occasions, he introduced them to Carmen by referring to her as a friend—a classification that didn’t come close to summing up how much she meant to him.
A couple of hours later, they sauntered out of the warehouse and waited at the side of the road for Franklin to arrive.
“That was nice,” Carmen said.
“Yeah. Natalie did a good job.”
She nodded, and in the silence, his mind raced with all kinds of thoughts, the main one being that he couldn’t let her go without confirmation that she’d see him again.
“Come by my apartment. I want you to see my work.” The light from the warehouse backlit them and cast her face in shadow.
“I would like that,” Carmen said quietly.
Anticipation built in his chest. “How about seven, Friday night?”
“Seven is fine.” A soft smile touched her lips. Those luscious lips he longed to kiss.
“Good.” He was too excited about the prospect of spending time with her alone and was a little embarrassed by how much he looked forward to it. “I’ll make dinner—lomo saltado.”
At the mention of the typical dish from Peru, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “You know how to make that now?”
“Yes, my mother finally parted with her recipe.” He smiled, which prompted the corners of her beautiful lips to lift, too. “I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay.”
“You’re really coming, right?”
“Yes, I’m coming,” Carmen said, the smile still firmly in place.
The Navigator pulled up, but instead of having Franklin get out and open the door, Carlos did the honors.
“Good night,” he said, looking down at Carmen.
“Good night.”
She stepped up on tiptoe, and he bent his head so she could plant a soft skin on his cheek. The whole side of his face heated with warmth.
He helped her into the back of the vehicle with all her packages. “See you Friday night.”
She nodded, and he closed the door.
