Chapter Twenty-Four
Amonth later, Alma sat in her condo. Life had been quiet ever since Jaime left.
He hadn’t even bothered to fly back to San Francisco with her—instead he had booked a direct flight to San Diego.
Not that she could blame him. She had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
Her pride was so wounded, and she was so angry with him that she couldn’t even try to see it from his side.
But after some reflection, a few talks with Zoila, and some intensive therapy, Alma’s stance softened toward him.
Jaime was a twenty-five-year-old man. So, he had wanted to start a tequila line with her.
She herself had had the same thought, so how could she blame him?
She had just felt so used and doubted that he really wanted her more than he wanted a new business venture.
But deep down she believed that he had really fallen for her again, despite himself, just as she had fallen for him.
But none of it mattered. He was once again in her past. She truly didn’t believe for a second that he would move up to Marin. And she wouldn’t move to San Diego. They were at an impasse. There was no happily ever after in their future.
At least she got to experience what it was like to be sexually free again.
In the aftermath of their short fling, she had decided that she had focused way too much on her career and that she needed to also prioritize her personal life.
She was only young once. She was beautiful and kind. She wanted to have a healthy sex life.
Unfortunately, anytime she fantasized, she always imagined Jaime. Naked.
Alas.
A warm glow from the rare sunny June day in San Francisco shone through the window in her condo. Mark Twain once famously said that the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Alma couldn’t agree with that statement more.
She wrapped herself in a sweater and curled up on the couch with a monster romance novel. It was a quiet afternoon, the kind she cherished after a long week at work.
The sound of her phone buzzing disrupted the calm. It was her brother.
“Hey, Alm, can I come over?” Carlos’s voice was tense, a hint of something unspoken lingering in the background.
“Of course, Carlos. Everything okay?” Alma asked, concern threading her words.
“I just…I need to talk to you.” Carlos was the stoic type, always calm and composed. He was her rock. For him to sound this unsettled was rare.
“Come over. I’ll make us some coffee,” she said, trying to sound casual.
When Carlos arrived, there was a hesitancy in his step, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. He slumped onto the couch beside her, his hands fidgeting.
Alma waited, giving him space to gather his thoughts. She poured him a cup of coffee, the familiar aroma filling the room, a small comfort in the thickening silence.
“Carlos, what’s going on? You’re scaring me a bit here,” she said gently, her eyes full of concern.
Carlos took a deep breath, his gaze meeting hers. “Alm, I’ve been carrying this around for a while, and I can’t do it anymore. I need to be honest with you.”
The seriousness in his voice set her nerves on edge.
“What is it? Are you sick?”
“No. I’ve been going behind your back.”
She eyed him up and down. “With what exactly?”
“I’ve been working for Jaime. I couldn’t say no. He has been funding my soccer league and paying me as director.”
The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to both relieve and terrify him.
For a moment, she was silent, processing his words. Then, without a syllable, she reached out, her hand finding his, a gesture of support and love.
“Carlos, I love you. No matter what,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “I’m just sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me this because of my problems with Jaime. This is a great opportunity for you.”
Carlos’s eyes, usually so guarded, filled with tears. “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of how you’d react, scared you’d think I was betraying you.”
Alma squeezed his hand, her own eyes welling up. “You’re my brother. Nothing could ever change how I see you. I’m proud of you for paving your own way and going after what you want. That takes courage.”
They sat in silence, the bond between them a tangible thing. It was a moment of unspoken understanding, of unconditional love and acceptance.
“Thanks, Alma. I was so worried,” Carlos whispered, a weight visibly lifting from his shoulders. “You know I’m loyal to you.”
“Always here for you, Carlos. Always,” Alma reassured him.
“Thanks.” He paused. “You know, you reacted exactly how Jaime said you would.”
Alma spit up her coffee. Jaime? “Jaime? You can work for him but don’t be talking about me. I’m your sister. Your blood. Jaime wasn’t even your friend—he was just my ex.”
“That’s kind of harsh. We were always friends.”
He was right. That was uncalled for. “True. Sorry. I’m just testy, that’s all.”
“Relax, chica. I love Jaime. He was so cool.”
“I am relaxed, but I can’t believe you are gossiping to him about your own sister.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Alma, this isn’t about you.
I was so excited about this, but didn’t want to piss you off.
I needed to talk to him about it, because I don’t want anyone else around me to think I used my sister’s ex to get this job.
I did ask him, but dammit I deserved this job.
He has money and he wants to give back. I know you’re all pissed off at him for wanting to start a tequila line with you, but I swear he didn’t do that to use you. That’s not like him.”
Damn. “You’re probably right.”
“I am right. You were too focused on thinking he was using you. He wasn’t, you know.
He’s all broken up about this. He loves you.
You do realize he’s a millionaire and could’ve paid anyone in the world to teach him about tequila.
Yeah, that may have not been the best reason for him to come up here, but it wasn’t malicious.
He did want to see you; he was probably just trying to find an excuse to do it. ”
Alma gulped. Guilt washed over her. “You’re right. I was too harsh on him. And he does have so many good qualities.”
“He’s amazing. A great guy. Generous. Kind. You’re a fool. Shit, if we weren’t both straight, I’d snag him myself.”
Ha. “Such a good brother.”
“Just keeping it real.”
“Well, speaking of your love life, give me some tea. Are you seeing anyone?”
“I’m not seeing anyone right now. I love wounded birds. It’s my curse.”
As the day went on, they talked more. Carlos shared his hopes for his new program and even more about his finances.
For the first time in his life, he actually thought he had a future and could get paid for doing what he loved and giving back to his community.
Alma listened, her heart swelling with pride for the brave, incredible person her brother was.
It was late when Carlos finally stood to leave. At the door, he turned, looking at his sister, a smile touching his lips, a smile that held a thousand unspoken words of gratitude.
“Good night, Alma. Thank you for being you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“Good night, Carlos. And remember, I’m always proud of you,” she replied, her words a promise.
As Alma closed the door, she leaned against it, a sense of peace settling in her heart. Her brother had been honest with her, and in doing so, had brought them closer than ever. Alma smiled, her heart full.
But she also realized that Carlos was right about Jaime. And maybe, just maybe, he deserved forgiveness.
She needed to talk to him face-to-face.
She grabbed her phone, made a reservation, and then packed her bag.
It was time to go to San Diego.
—
The next evening, her plane touched down. San Diego was beautiful out her window as she flew in over the water. And the airport was close to downtown, not out of the way like San Francisco’s airport, which was outside the city and always chaotic.
She took an Uber straight to Jaime’s place.
She had begged Santi for the address and made him promise to figure out some way to make sure he was home.
Santi swore that Jaime had turned into a homebody since he returned to San Diego but that wasn’t good enough for Alma.
Santi relented and pretended to have an urgent package delivered.
The Uber dropped her on the steps of an oceanfront mansion. Damn, he lived here? She knew it would be nice but didn’t imagine anything like this. Then again, she lived in an oceanfront condo. But her place was nowhere near as expensive as this one.
Under the soft glow of the moon, the tranquil garden out front felt like a secret sanctuary, a place where emotions could flow freely, and secrets could find solace.
Alma stood near the ornate fountain, her heart torn between uncertainty and longing.
The scent of blooming roses mixed with salty seawater filled the air, their delicate petals mirroring her fragile emotions.
She texted Santi: I’m here. Tell him to come down and meet me.
Footsteps approached, each one echoing in her chest. She turned to find Jaime standing there, his dark hair tousled by the gentle breeze. His eyes, normally full of confidence, now held a mixture of regret and hope.
“Alma,” he began, his voice carrying a weight that she couldn’t ignore. “What are you doing here? Santi said—”
“Can we talk?”
“Of course.” His eyes widened. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Alma bit her lip, fighting back the swell of emotions threatening to overcome her. She nodded, her gaze steady as she motioned for him to continue.
“I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you,” Jaime began, his words tentative, as if he was unsure how to proceed.
“I know I messed up, and I shouldn’t have even brought up the tequila line.
But please believe me when I say that my feelings for you are real.
And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make our relationship work. ”