7. The Unforgivable
THE UNFORGIVABLE
Dahlia
“Ijust find it so strange Sasha reacted that way. And over Alyssa of all people.”
Alejandro closes the front door behind us and we move through the vestibule into the foyer. “Maybe they’re friends and we just didn’t know?”
I shake my head and walk down the hall until I reach the coat closet.
I open the door and feel Alejandro’s hands on my shoulders as he helps me out of my scarf and long coat.
“I doubt it. I mean, they know each other but I’ve only ever seen them interact in passing.
Hellos and goodbyes. Nothing to justify a whole argument in the hospital waiting room. ”
Alejandro hangs up my coat. “Ask Alyssa about it later. By the time I showed up, Rian and Sasha were being kept apart by a stressed out Damiano.”
I almost laugh but the sound stops short when I turn around and see he’s still in his coat. “Aren’t you staying?”
He hesitates. “I have some work to do.”
“Oh…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Maybe you can do your work here?”
“I have to call Lettie and Diego.”
My chest aches at the mention of them. “Do you think they might come visit soon? You’ve been here for a while.”
Diego and Lettie know I was in the hospital—I’ve heard Alejandro on the phone with them talking about it.
But they never came to visit and never called.
I guess it’s wrong of me to expect so much of them.
After all, I’m technically not part of their family anymore and none of us are in a good place right now.
Still…it would be nice to know they cared.
He isn’t sure how to respond and rather than scrounge up a polite excuse, he stays silent.
“Do you have to go right now?” I ask. “I was thinking we could have lunch and then maybe—”
“Are you hungry?” He’s already removing his coat before I can respond. “What do you want? I’ll make you something before I go.”
For some reason, the words catch in my throat.
I watch him put his coat in the closet and he wraps his scarf around the hanger twice.
In Barcelona, I always knew which coats and jackets in the hall closet were his by the way he wrapped up his scarf.
Lettie kept most of her accessories color coded in her drawers and Diego couldn’t be bothered with things like hats, scarves, or gloves.
A pang of longing runs through me. A desire for a home that was as mine as it was temporary and a wistfulness for a moment in time we’ll never have again.
Whatever the future has in store for Alejandro and me, it’ll never be the same as our first year together.
Everything was new and wonderful and different before it became strange, painful, and terrifying.
We’ll never fall in love with each other for the first time again.
I wish I’d held on to that year a little tighter. I wish I had appreciated it more than I did instead of taking the novelty of it for granted.
All I can manage is a smile and short nod as I follow him to the kitchen.
There’s so much I want to say except I don’t think I’m brave enough to even try.
* * *
“Todavía estoy in Nueva York…sí. Sí.”
Alejandro flips the grilled cheese one last time before transferring it to a plate. He cuts it in half just the way I like it.
“Estaba pensando en volver este fin de semana pero no lo he decidido.”
I have no idea who or what he’s talking about but from what I’ve gathered so far, it must be someone in Barcelona.
Could it be Dimitrio? Mauricio? Maybe they’re wondering when he’s going back because Alejandro said as much.
He just didn’t specify where he’d be going back to.
Apparently he’s thinking of traveling this weekend.
My stomach’s in knots. I think I’ve lost my appetite.
“Está bien. Quiero que esto quede solucionado para el fin de mes. Si necesitas algo, pregúntale a Lettie.”
Apparently Lettie’s involved. Must be work then.
There’s a pause and an exasperated huff leaves his lips as he rolls his eyes. “Beni, bye.”
He hangs up and leaves his phone on the counter.
I watch as he moves to the sink and washes the few dishes he dirtied. In the meantime, I make a halfhearted attempt at eating the grilled cheese I no longer have an appetite for.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He nods but doesn’t look back. He lets the water run for a little while before turning it off. “Just work. Same as always.”
I attempt to keep the conversation going. “I hope it isn’t too stressful.”
“Not too much.”
“It must be if you’re thinking of going back this weekend.”
“Barcelona is where all the work is.”
“Don’t you have an office here?”
“In New York?” he puts the clean pan on the dishrack to dry. “There’s a corporate office in Midtown. It’s a smaller one though.”
“Maybe you could work out of there for a few weeks.”
“I could but I don’t see a reason to.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why not?”
He turns around. “Dahlia.”
“What?” I shove a bite of grilled cheese into my mouth. “I’m just curious.”
“No you aren’t,” he says with a certainty that grates my nerves. “This is your way of dancing around a topic until you can steer the conversation in the direction you want it.”
I sit up straight. “That’s manipulative and I’m insulted.”
“No you’re not.” His eyes narrow. “What is it?”
I take another bite of my sandwich to avoid having to answer right away. “Well, I was just thinking it’d be easier for you to work if you were in an office setting. That’s all.”
He leans forward and braces himself on the kitchen counter.
Under the scrutiny of his gaze, I find renewed interest in my lunch.
The edges are buttery and crispy, the inside gooey and cheesy, and the scent of the fruit bowl beside me reminds me of summer.
My juice is perfect and cold and Alejandro is wearing a turtleneck today which is making me lose focus.
I’ll never understand the obsession women have with gray sweatpants and thermal shirts.
It must be because they’ve never seen Alejandro Narvaez in a dark burgundy turtleneck tucked into a pair of fitted charcoal gray slacks that hug every inch of his thick, muscled, toned thighs and gorgeous ass and oh my God I am going to kill myself.
Every once in a while I’m reminded of just how attracted I am to him and it makes me want to ram my face into the nearest metal pole. How am I supposed to sort through my feelings if I’m in heat like some kind of rabid animal? It’s ridiculous and humiliating.
He must not find in me what he’s looking for because he pulls away from the counter and rolls down his sleeves. “I’ll think about it.”
“About staying?”
“About the office in Midtown.”
Either he’s being intentionally obtuse or he’s trying to force an answer out of me. It doesn’t matter. I relent anyway.
“I want you to stay.”
He gives a light shrug and a nod. “I can wait until you finish eating.”
“In New York, Alex. I want you to stay in New York…with me.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches me with a leveled look and an expression I can’t quite discern, a revelation I find unsettling.
By now, I thought I had all of him memorized.
The difference between a performative smile and a real one, the crease that forms between his brows when he’s been reading for too long without his glasses, the way he bites down on the corner of his mouth to keep from laughing at inopportune moments.
This is a look I don’t recognize, equally reserved and inquisitive.
When it feels like the staring will go on forever, I break eye contact and return to eating my lunch.
Fire eats up my lungs and my chest swells as it expands with smoke.
He didn’t say anything. We’ve been up in arms for a year and I’ve finally put mine down long enough to tell him I want him and he didn’t say anything.
A shrill ringing cuts through the silence and he reaches into his pocket for his cellphone.
For some reason, my heart begins to pound and my stomach cramps as memories of that ringing phone flood my mind.
The time in the villa when he let a phone call invade our private space, the afternoon he took me to buy a new car and the person on the other line was more important than me.
All those little moments that eventually added up in the end.
He pushed me out of the life we were trying to build together and didn’t even realize it.
Alejandro declines the call, hits the power button, and then tosses his phone into one of the kitchen drawers. I watch as he walks around the island, sits on one of the stools, grabs the bottom of mine, and pulls it closer. We sit with our legs tangled and our knees brushing.
“All right,” he tells me. “Let’s have that conversation.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Tears begin to gather. I can barely manage to speak. “Are you going to stay or what?”
He surprises me when he laughs. “You’re so romantic when you want to be.”
“Well, I’m not going to beg. I already said my part.”
“A little reassurance would be nice.” He taps his chin, feigning deep thought. “I did walk in on you with one of my oldest friends.”
Shame burns through me. I have to cover my face for a moment before I’m brave enough to look him in the eye and even then, I can barely make him out beyond the blur of tears. “You’re such an asshole. Don’t joke about that.”
“It’s not a joke. This is serious. I want to know who the better kisser is.”
He’s enjoying all the teasing and taunting at my expense but I don’t find it amusing.
I can’t believe he’s able to turn this nightmare into joke when all I want to do is crawl into a hole and die.
I’m so ashamed of myself and the way I behaved this past year.
If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat.
“You’re so ridiculous. You know I’m crazy about you.”
His brows shoot up and he looks around the room as if in search of someone and then jabs a finger into his chest. “Who? Me?”