While Jason goes for a run, I decide I have to call Josie. One of the things she and I have in common is our heritage. She, too, is half Cuban and half Italian. Her parents left Cuba around the same time as my grandmother did, and the two families knew each other in Havana. I also have texts from my parents and grandmothers, who’re wondering where I’ve been all week.
I can’t exactly tell them I’ve been in bed with Jason every chance I’ve gotten . . .
Josie picks up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetie. How was your first week?”
“It was good.”
“They already gave you a special project with one of the doctors? What’s that about?”
I tell her about Jason and what happened in New York.
“I saw him on the news! Was that your doing?”
“Along with my cousin Maria, who set him up to work at the clinic and suggested we contact Desiree Rivera. Maria gets most of the credit for that.”
“It was a wonderful story. I’d heard about the fancy doctor helping at the free clinic. Agnes said people were lining the streets.”
Agnes is her next-door neighbor and source of all information. “He got a good turnout. He treated more than two hundred patients.”
“That’s incredible. I’m sure it meant so much to people.”
“It did. He wants to continue to volunteer there at least one day a week if he’s able to stay in the area.”
“The Miami-Dade board would be crazy to pass on him.”
“I agree, but it’s up to them.” I’m suddenly overwhelmed by anxiety as I try to find the words to tell her about my personal relationship with Jason. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Is everything all right?”
The poor woman is conditioned to expect disaster. “Everything is fine. It’s just that . . .”
“What, honey? What is it?”
“Dr. Northrup . . . Jason . . . He and I have been, well . . . I’m sort of seeing him.” My face burns with mortification over the stumbling words as I’m gripped with sadness so profound it touches the very deepest part of me.
“Sweetheart, that’s wonderful news. I’ve so hoped you would meet someone special.”
“Oh. You have?” I’ve never once spoken to her about the possibility of me dating again or anything close to that topic. While everyone else in my life has been eager to set me up on dates, as her son’s widow, I’ve avoided discussing that aspect of my life with Josie.
“Of course I have. You’ve got so much life left to live and so much love to give. Tony would want you to find someone who makes you happy. He loved you so much.”
A sob catches me off guard.
“Carmen, honey . . . It’s okay. Really.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so emotional. It’s just . . .”
“It’s hard to talk about moving on from Tony.”
“Yes.” I’m a sniveling, snotty mess as I reach for a tissue to mop up the damage. “I hope you know that no matter where I go or who I’m with, Tony is always going to be part of me.”
“I do know that. Without a doubt. You have a right to be happy after everything you’ve been through. You’ve been so incredibly devoted to his legacy and his memory.”
“That won’t change. Ever.”
“I know that, too. Will we get to meet your Jason at brunch on Sunday?”
“Yes, he’ll be there.”
“We’ll look forward to meeting him.”
“I just want to thank you for always being so supportive of me.”
“You’re one of my kids, Carmen. I’ll always be supportive of you and whatever you choose to do. Your future children will be my grandchildren.”
Her sweet kindness sends new tears sliding down my cheeks. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you, too. So very much. I’ll see you Sunday?”
“See you then.”
Long after I end the call, tears continue to stream down my cheeks. Telling Josie about Jason has opened the door to so many emotions I locked away long ago in an effort to survive the crushing loss. When it first happened, the part I had the hardest time with was knowing how long I’d have to live without him. It seemed unfathomable then that I would most likely continue to exist for decades while he was gone forever.
When Jason comes in from his run, I try to frantically clean up the last of the tears. I glance at the clock and am surprised that it’s already after nine. He goes right for water in the kitchen before coming to find me, stopping short at the sight of my tear-swollen face.
“What happened?”
He’s sweaty and gorgeous and makes me feel better just by walking in the room. “I talked to Tony’s mother.”
“You told her about me?”
“Yes.”
“Did she upset you?”
“Not the way you think. She was amazing. Super supportive of me, as always.” I wipe new tears that won’t quit as much as I wish they would. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.”
He kneels in front of me and takes hold of my hands, kissing the backs of both of them. “It was a hard conversation. I’m not surprised you’re feeling emotional.”
“Are you always this amazing, or just with damsels in distress?”
“You’re the only damsel I’m concerned with, and if I didn’t stink so bad, I’d hold you until all the distress is gone.”
I cup his face and kiss him. “Go take a shower so you can hold me all night.”
He groans and leans into the kiss. “I’m going.” Another kiss. “In a minute.” Five full minutes of tongue-twisting kisses later, he pushes to his feet. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you.” I force myself to shake off the malaise and to focus on the present rather than wallowing in the past. My present is looking rather promising at the moment, and it’s that thought that has me standing and pulling off my clothes as I head for the bathroom to join Jason in the shower.
He startles with surprise when I step in behind him and wrap my arms around him. “Well, hello there.”
“Hi.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much. You?”
He laughs. “Nothing was up until you pressed your sexy self against me. And now . . .” He guides my hand to his hard cock.
“All that for me?”
“For you and only you.”
I rest my cheek against his back as the warm water rains down upon us. He moves my hand up and down the long length of his shaft. He’s rougher than I would’ve been without his guidance, but I let him take what he wants and needs while I run my free hand over the dips and cuts of his muscular abdomen. I’m obsessed with his six-pack and the ropy V of muscles over his hips. He’s muscular in a leaner way than Tony was, not that I’m comparing. That’s a rabbit hole I refuse to fall into, because if I were to go there, I’d also have to acknowledge the difference of being in bed with a man who has much more experience than my husband did.
So not going there. Uh-uh. No way.