Never Again

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.”

“That’s idealistic.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. There were six of us living in a two-bedroom apartment. Do you know how embarrassed I was to have you see my home and learn about our living conditions?”

His upbringing was never far from his mind, and to this day, he still lived life simply, careful with his money, budgeting and saving because he didn’t have a steady paycheck and never knew when it could all go away.

“I didn’t care about your living conditions,” Carmen said in a dull voice.

“But I cared.”

She pushed away her plate as if she suddenly found the food distasteful. “We’re talking in circles. We’ve had these conversations before. I can’t help who my family is, and neither can you. Just admit you didn’t want to be with me, because everything else you’ve said are excuses, and you know it.”

“They’re not excuses. I couldn’t offer you anything, and I needed to work and prove to myself I could succeed doing the work I love.”

She glanced away from him to the night outside. A muscle flexed in her jawline. When she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes. “Did you love me?”

“More than anything else in the world,” Carlos answered immediately in a thick voice.

“What’s to stop us from being together now? You’ve proven yourself. You’re successful.”

“I’m not where I want to be.”

“And where do you want to be?”

“In a place where money doesn’t matter. A millionaire, maybe?”

“And if that’s not in the cards for you?”

He shook his head and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table, and he didn’t know what to say to fix the awkwardness.

Carmen stared at the empty space her plate previously occupied. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s time I head out. I’m going to call a cab and go back to Nat’s.” Her chair scraped back on the tile floor, and she stood.

She moved quickly, and Carlos scrambled from his seat and caught her halfway to the door. He pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek against hers and inhaled the sweet, rosy scent of her skin.

“Don’t go.”