“What are you doing here?” Unlike his mother, he didn’t have an accent, having grown up in Toronto like Carmen after his parents emigrated from South America when he was only six years old.
“I’m here on business for my father.”
Immediately, his demeanor changed. His body tightened at the mention of the man who had never accepted him as a viable candidate for his daughter’s affection.
“I…Fit Body Gyms has expanded into the Atlanta market, and I’m responsible for opening two of our new locations.”
She briefly glanced away as she spoke, embarrassed that she had taken such an interest in the company, contrary to the conversations she’d held with Carlos in the past. Angry at her father’s dismissal of their relationship, she’d been adamant that she would walk away and forge her own way in life. A lot had changed in three years.
“Good for you.” His gaze lifted to a point over her shoulder. “I see you still have Franklin in tow.”
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw that Franklin waited and watched not too far away.
“Always.” She smiled faintly. Rubbing her hands together, she looked around the area. “You live nearby?”
Inman Park had been Atlanta’s first planned suburb. By blending old Victorian homes with splashy apartments and newly built lofts, renters and homeowners lived side by side and frequented the neighborhood bars and quaint little food spots.
Carlos nodded. “Up the street a bit. I have a studio in my loft…”
As his voice trailed off, she had the distinct impression he didn’t want to share any more information with her.
“Anyway, it was good seeing you,” he said.
Pain pricked her chest. That’s it?
“You too.” She couldn’t give up. Not yet. “Maybe, if you’re free some time, we could get together and catch up before I go back home.”
He nodded. “That would be nice. Why don’t I take your number, and I’ll call you?”
Was he blowing her off?
“Sure.”
“You can add it to my contacts.”
He handed over his phone, and she wiped a clammy hand on her hip before entering her information. He didn’t suggest she take his number, and she was uncomfortable asking since he didn’t offer.
“It was good seeing you, Carmen. You look…” His gaze drifted over her again, as if taking a snapshot so he wouldn’t forget. “You look amazing, as always,” he whispered.
Her chest hurt. There was so much she wanted to say, but fear kept her from speaking. She wanted to catch up. She wanted to know if he’d been well. How was his mother and his siblings?
Please call.
“Thank you. It was good seeing you, too, Carlos.”
“Take care.”
She almost told him to make sure that he called, but she had her pride. Plus, she didn’t want to push if he didn’t want to get back in touch. She would let him decide.
She walked back toward the vehicle, and Franklin followed and opened the door so she could get in. They pulled away into traffic, and Carmen sat very still, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
She should be over him. She shouldn’t be shaking, and the crotch of her panties shouldn’t be damp simply from the sight of him.
Carmen looked over her shoulder.
Carlos was walking away. Had he looked back? Had he experienced the same magnetic pull toward her that she experienced toward him? The same desperate need to reconnect?
She kept her eyes on him until they turned the corner and then faced the front again. Her gaze collided with Franklin’s in the rear-view mirror before he glanced away.
Humiliated, she could do nothing but stare out the side window because Franklin knew what she suspected to be true.
She had looked back, but Carlos had not.
Not once.
2
Carlos entered his loft apartment and tossed his keys in the ceramic bowl by the door. His Siberian white cat, Sofia, glanced his way from her perch on the windowsill and then returned her attention to the traffic outside.
The L-shaped loft consisted of an entirely open floor plan where there was no real separation of rooms. What he referred to as his living space consisted of white-painted walls and a kitchen that flowed into a dining area, which flowed into a bedroom area in the corner. On the shorter L side of the apartment, with exposed brick walls, was a bathroom and sizeable studio filled with paints, easels, and an old gray sofa he sometimes napped on during the day.
Carlos drained the last bit of Yerba mate tea from the can, tossed it in the recycling bin, and then took a cold bottle of beer from the refrigerator. As he removed the cap and then tossed it, his thoughts remained on Carmen. He couldn’t believe he’d run into her, all the way in Atlanta.
She hadn’t changed much. Her short hair was pulled back but looked about the same length. She still had a curvaceous body, but he definitely saw more muscle definition, especially in her bared arms. Her trusting eyes, set in a round face, made you afraid that she was naive and could never see the truth of your character—they were filled with such…innocence, for lack of a better word.
Funny he should run into her after he’d thought about her constantly the past few days. Perhaps through a sixth sense, he’d known he would see her and had been preparing for her appearance.
They’d met at an art fair where he’d been painting, near her university campus. It took some time to win her over. He’d had to temporarily abandon his booth and ask another artist to keep an eye on his belongings, but she finally agreed to go out with him. During their first date he found out she was wealthy, an heir to the Fit Body Gyms company. By then, he’d already fallen madly in love with her.
Carlos took a mouthful of beer and strolled over to the side of the apartment he used as a studio. He dropped his phone on the table, sat down, and propped up his feet. He stared at the only work he had on display in the apartment at the moment.
The canvases were lined up on the floor against the brick wall. Three in all, each containing some variation of Carmen that he’d completed over the past few years since he left Toronto. All showed off the rich dark color of her brown skin and the beauty of her expressive eyes. Carmen laughing. Carmen sleeping. And the latest, to the right—Carmen looking at him with love in her eyes.
He gulped, his fingers tightening on the cool glass bottle. He wanted to know what she’d been up to, was she seeing anyone, but he no longer had the right to ask or to know. The thought of another man touching her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, made him physically ill, but he’d successfully—for the most part—kept those thoughts at bay since they split. He swallowed down the nausea and shook his head in self-disgust.
He’d left her behind and couldn’t revisit those old feelings now. They were dangerous. They would consume him. She would consume him—like she had before. He had put up with a lot of shit to be with her and would do well to remember she was wholly and completely out of his league.
He set down the beer and picked up the phone. Before he could change his mind, he deleted her name and number from his contacts and set the phone back on the table.
His jaw tightened and he closed his eyes, tightening his fists at his sides. He’d loved Carmen, but they couldn’t work.