Chapter 26
QUENTIN
Hospital waiting rooms have a way of making time stand still and warp simultaneously.
It”s like we”re stuck in a time bubble, a parallel universe where the outside world carries on, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in our little corner of reality.
In this fluorescent-lit corner of San Francisco, Gabi, Freddie, Carmina, and I set up camp, waiting for the green light to see Val post-allergy scare.
The air is thick with tension. Gabi”s small frame shudders with silent sobs, her face the picture of teenage worry. Seeing her like that, I can”t just stand by.
Leaning over to Freddie, I slip her some cash. ”Mind hitting the vending machine? Chocolate and chips might be just what the doctor ordered.”
Freddie catches on immediately, her eyes softening with understanding. ”C”mon, Gabi. Let”s raid the machine. I bet it”s hiding the good stuff,” she coaxes, and together, they disappear down the hallway.
Turning back, I find Carmina, her eyes fixed on the dull, patterned hospital carpet, lost in thought. Her vulnerability is palpable, a stark contrast to the strong, determined woman I”ve come to admire so deeply.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, offering what little comfort I can. Her dark wavy hair smells of lavender, and I inhale deeply, trying to calm my racing heart. ”She”s going to be okay,” I whisper, not sure if I”m trying to convince her or myself.
Carmina nods silently but doesn’t pull away. Allowing her body to lean into me now, she sighs, the floodgates finally opening.
”Quentin, I”m scared,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
My chest squeezes. ”I know.”
”Anything could have happened. She could have?—”
”But she didn”t. She”s okay. She”s going to be okay.”
”This... all of this.” Her brows furrow, her chin dipping toward her chest. ”I should have been there. I should have been checking in more. Paying attention. I should have prevented this from happening.”
Her voice shakes on the last word, and I hold her tighter, feeling her tremble against me.
”Carmina,” I say firmly, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. ”You can”t blame yourself for this. You”re not going to be there every waking moment. You have a life and a job and responsibilities. And Val... she”s strong. She”ll pull through.”
She stiffens, exhaling loudly. ”But isn”t that the job? Being a legal guardian? It”s more than just paperwork. It”s being my sisters” rock, their constant. And after everything with Mamá... Gabi”s terrified of being left behind again. I can”t. I won”t add to that fear. I have to be strong for the girls.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Here she is, drowning in the pressure of suddenly being thrust into parenthood, yet her first thought is for the emotional well-being of those girls.
It”s moments like these that make me realize just how much I admire her. How much I respect her.
How much I...
I shake my head, trying to push away those thoughts.
Now is not the time for that.
”You are strong, Car,” I assure her. ”You”ve got more strength and love in your pinky finger than most people have in their whole body. Gabi and Val, they’re lucky to have you. And you have been there for them. You”ve stepped up in ways most people couldn”t even imagine. But it”s okay to feel scared and overwhelmed sometimes. It doesn”t make you any less of a good guardian or a good sister.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes searching mine for reassurance. And I give it to her with every ounce of sincerity in my being.
We stay there in silence for a few more minutes before she finally speaks again, her voice quieter now.
”I probably should call Jen. I haven’t checked in back at the office, and I’m sure she would want to know.”
I nod, knowing how difficult and emotional that call will be for her. ”I”ll go make some coffee,” I offer, standing up from the chair next to hers. ”You can use my phone if you want. I passed yours to Freddie in the melee, and you still have mine on you.”
Wandering through the quiet hospital corridor to the coffee machine, my brain rolls back on the rollercoaster of emotions the day has brought.
My steps slow as I spot Freddie and Gabi in front of the vending machine, their heads close together, sharing chocolate bars and whispers.
It”s a scene so normal yet heartwarming amidst our current chaos, and I find a small smile forming on my face. Moments like these—a simple, genuine connection—remind me of what we”ve built at Hare Holeton, how much of a family we”ve become.
With the coffees in hand, warmth seeping through the cardboard cups into my palms, I head back, still riding the high of that tender scene. But the air in the hospital hallway changes the moment I step into it.
Carmina is sitting up, her posture rigid, the warmth in her eyes replaced by a storm.
Puzzled, I hand her the coffee. But before I can even ask, she cuts through the silence, her voice tight, almost cold.
”I started to call Jen,” she breathes. ”But you got a text that distracted me, so...”
I take my seat again. ”Okay, who’s it from?”
”Delilah.” Carmina”s earthy brown gaze locks onto mine. ”She, uh, is asking about your relationship status again. Wanted to know who you”re bringing to Ry and Jen”s bachelor-bachelorette party.”
I sigh, shoulders sagging. ”You’d never guess Delilah would be the spokesperson for relentless. I”m sorry about that.”
Carmina stares. ”Are the two of you together, Quentin?”
”What? No, absolutely not.” I feel my skin heat as I switch the coffee cup from hand to hand. ”She”s a lovely person. The engagement party came. I needed a date. She was it. That”s all. There”s nothing going on between us, I promise.”
”That”s convenient, Quentin. Too convenient.”
She sets the coffee down, untouched, and folds her arms, creating a barrier between us. I lean forward, trying to catch her gaze. ”What”s going on, Carmina? Are you feeling uncomfortable with... us?”
She shakes her head, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. ”I just... I don”t want to be that girl.”
”What girl?”
”The one who loses her head because the local billionaire pays her a little attention.” Her voice is small, almost a whisper. ”I”ve seen it happen before. Women losing themselves in a relationship with a man, only to be disappointed in the end.”
I frown. ”You are not your mother.”
”Aren”t I, though? There I was, lying in bed with you, while my sister was nearly dying in the next room. Doesn”t exactly make me Mary Poppins now, does it.”
I sit back, stunned by her words. ”Carmina, what happened was not your fault.” I blow out a long breath. ”Don”t do this.”
Her voice rises. ”Do what?”
”This. Blame yourself. Deflect. Push people away the second something gets too real.”
She stands, her hands fisted at her sides. ”Oh, that”s rich coming from you. A man who”s never kept a romantic relationship beyond Sunday brunch.”
”What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
”It means you”re not exactly an expert on relationships, Quentin. So don”t act like you know what”s best for me. Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don”t need this.”
I place my coffee on the ground before standing, my skin growing hot under the collar of the t-shirt I threw on for this hospital trip. I place a hand inside the pocket of my jeans. ”Alright, you want to get real? Let”s do it then. Say what you really mean, Carmina. You don”t need me. That”s what you mean.”
”That”s not what I meant.”
”Oh really? Because that”s certainly how it feels.” My voice is harsher than I intend, heat seeping through my words. ”You”re pushing me away again, Carmina. Just like you did three years ago.”
Her mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. Finally, she speaks, her voice a sigh. ”Let”s just focus on work, okay? We can”t afford any distractions right now.”
”You know, Carmina. I think... No, I know you”re using all this as a shield. You”re trying to dodge the real issue here—letting people in, trusting me. And I think deep down, you”re deflecting because it”s easier than facing the hard stuff. Like...”
”Like what?”
”Like actually loving me.” I swallow hard. ”The way I love you.”
Her eyes, those deep wells of strength and fear, fill with tears. But then, just as quickly as it began, the moment is over. Carmina straightens up and squares her shoulders. ”Quentin, I don”t have the luxury of being selfish. I have responsibilities, the girls to think about. I can”t afford to... to just...”
”Be happy? To let yourself be loved?”
She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze. And that”s when it hits me, like a punch straight to the gut.
Love.
I’d been making assumptions this entire time.
Falling for Carmina these last several weeks has been as easy as breathing. I’d assumed it was the same for her. But I may have been wrong.
Maybe it was all one-sided. Maybe she didn’t feel anything for me beyond lust.
What a time to find out I was right about relationships all along. They’re messy. Complicated. And just when you think you have it all figured out, they knock you on your ass.
I run a hand through my hair, my fingers itching to hold onto something—anything—besides reaching for a woman who doesn’t want me.
I grit my teeth, the revelation hitting me like a bomb that keeps exploding.
”Listen, Sanchez, I understand. You don’t need this shit. It’s too much. Say no more.” My jaw ticks. ”Why don’t you handle things here, and I’ll talk to Danity, her publicist, her agent. Let them know we’re not going to make it to the reading tonight. We can move up our travel plans back to Seattle.”
Carmina nods, her eyes still avoiding mine, and it’s like salt on an open wound. She’s not even going to fight for me. Fight for us.
But then, maybe that was my mistake all along: assuming she wanted the same things I did.
I turn to leave, but I hear her footsteps. Then feel her hand on my arm. ”Quentin, wait.”
I stop but don’t turn around.
”Just...please...” she begins.
”Please what?”
”Don’t...mention us to Jenny or Ry.” I hear her shift behind me. ”Their bachelor-bachelorette party’s this weekend. I don’t want to ruin it for them.”
This time, I turn to face her, feeling the weight of my next words heavy on my chest. ”There’s no ”us” to talk about, Carmina. You made that perfectly clear. Give Val a hug for me as soon as she’s awake.”
Without another word, I walk out of the room and down the hall.
As soon as I’m outside, my pace quickens until I’m practically running. Running away from the mess I’ve made. Running back to a place where I can forget about Carmina Sanchez. Forget about love and relationships and all the complications that come with them.
The San Francisco streets are alive with people and cars, but I barely register them as I turn corner after corner, my hand in the air trying to flag down a cab.
Finally, one stops and I climb in without a second thought.
I don’t feel the wetness behind my eyelids—actual unshed tears, hot and stinging—until the car is pulling away from the curb.