How Much I Feel

by Force, Marie

  “You might’ve said something about that.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to be patient and wait to see what’ll happen. I have a good feeling that having some patience in this situation might serve you well.”

  “Maybe.”

  He goes off to tend to other customers while I eat my salad and think about Jason’s text and what my dad said. I was doing okay before I met Jason, and I have to believe I’ll be fine if he goes back to New York. But nothing will be as bright or as interesting as it was with him around. It’ll be difficult to go on knowing he’s out there somewhere, too far away to be part of my daily life.

  For once, my formidable appetite is letting me down as I pick at the salad and try to work up interest in anything.

  My mother slides onto the stool next to me. “What’s going on?”

  Since there’s no point in trying to dodge her, I give her the summary. “Jason may be getting his old job back in New York.”

  “Oh crap. Well, good for him, but not so good for you, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  Abuela and Nona are right behind her, and my mother fills them in, which saves me the trouble of having to explain it yet again.

  “Ay, mija, that boy is loco for you,” Abuela says. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “It’s not that simple, Abuela. His whole life, his research, everything is in New York. He only came here because he didn’t have any choice. Or he thought he didn’t.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Nona says. “His work isn’t his whole life, and he’s smart enough to know that.”

  I should’ve known they’d make me feel better. They usually do. And Dad was right about Dante’s marsala. It’s delicious. I box up half of it to take for lunch tomorrow.

  “My boss wants to bring his wife in for their anniversary. He asked if I could pull some strings for him.”

  “Eh,” Nona says with a wink. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  I smile at her, and when she holds out her arms to me, I lean into her embrace. “After brunch, I said our little girl is falling in love with that handsome doctor.”

  I start to protest, but she hushes me.

  “I said she’s falling in love, and so is he. I only hope they can figure it out so no one gets hurt.” She runs her hand over my hair the way she used to when I was little. “I also said if he hurts you, I might have him killed, but I didn’t mean that. Well, not really . . .”

  I’m laughing even as tears roll down my cheeks.

  “If it’s meant to be with him, my sweet girl, it will be. But no matter what happens with your Jason, you’re a strong, capable woman, a survivor of much more difficult things than this’ll ever be. You, my love, will be fine, no matter what.”

  “What she said.” Abuela uses her thumb to point to Nona in a rare moment of total agreement.

  I want to luxuriate in the warm embrace of my grandmothers and parents, but I need to go home and get ready for work and prepare to move on with my life. Nona is right—if it’s meant to be, it will be. “Thank you, Nona. I needed to hear that tonight, and you’re right. It’ll work out the way it’s meant to.”

  “And you will be fine,” Abuela says emphatically, “because we say so.”

  I hug her and my mother—and my dad when he comes around the bar to get his share. “Love you guys. Don’t know what I’d do without you, which is why I can’t even think about living somewhere else.”

  “We love you, too, but you’re not to make decisions based on us.” Dad gives Mami a quelling look that has her thinking better of what she was going to say. “You would be fine without us, and we would be fine without you—if we have to be. We want you to be happy, Carmen. That is all we want for you.”

  I appreciate that he’s given me the freedom to do what’s best for me, even if it wouldn’t be what’s best for them. I’ve got a lot to think about. That’s for sure.

  CHAPTER 21

  JASON

  I stop for dinner at an Italian place that has nothing on Giordino’s. I may be ruined forever for Cuban and Italian food after eating there. I may be ruined for everything if I’ve lost Carmen, which is a profoundly depressing thought that sucks the life out of me as I drive back to the hotel where I haven’t slept in days.

  A lot of my stuff is at Carmen’s, which means I’ll have to see her at some point. But out of respect for her wishes, I buy a toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and comb in the hotel gift shop, along with a bottle of water. I pay for the items, take the bag from the clerk and turn to head toward the elevator when I see her.

  Ginger.

  Sitting in my hotel lobby waiting for me, looking as always as if she just stepped off a runway in Milan. She once told me that her color palette was autumn, which is why she wears tans, oranges and browns exclusively. I should’ve taken one thing from that information—that she’s shallow and concerned with all the wrong things. Hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty. Today she’s wearing orange, but all I see is red.

  For a second, I’m so surprised to see her that I’m speechless. She looks at me with those big green eyes that used to move me, and it’s all I can do not to lose my shit. “What do you want?”

  “Can we talk? Please?”

  “Absolutely not.” I wonder how she found me, but that’s secondary to getting rid of her. “Go home. There’s nothing for you here.”

  “Jason, I want to apologize.”

  “Good, thanks. All set. Go away.” I head for the elevators, hoping she got the message.

  She didn’t. She grabs my arm to stop me, and since I’m not up for a nasty public scene, I glare at her until she releases me.

  “I have less than nothing to say to you.”

  “I have things I need to tell you. Give me five minutes, please?”

  “I’m not giving you thirty seconds. Go back under the rock you crawled out from under and leave me alone. Your scheme has been a roaring success. I hear Howard quit the board. Congratulations on ruining the lives of two people. You should be very pleased with yourself.”

  To my great horror, she begins to cry. “I’m so, so sorry. I never intended—”

  “What didn’t you intend? For the whole sordid mess to get plastered all over the New York media, or for me to lose my job, or for your kids to find out what a shameless bitch their mother is?”

  “Any of it. I didn’t intend for it to go as far as it did.”

  I stare at her, incredulous. “What did you think would happen when your husband, who runs the hospital where I work, walked in on us when my dick was down your throat?”

  A guy from the hotel approaches us, his expression stormy. “That’s enough, folks. Take it upstairs or outside unless you want me to call the cops.”

  “I apologize.” I notice there’re kids in the bar area, too far away to have heard what I said but close enough that I shouldn’t have said it. Why am I even talking to her? “I’m going upstairs. Alone.”

  “Jason . . .”

  “I really ought to thank you, Ginger.” I’ve turned down the volume considerably, but I hope the glare I direct her way is as frosty as I intend it to be. “If you hadn’t blown up my life, I never would’ve come here and met the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. So thanks for that, for leading me to her. She makes this entire nightmare worth every bit of hell and heartache you put me through.” The elevator dings when it arrives. “Have a nice life.”

  Her tear-stained face is the last thing I see before the doors close and the elevator gets me the hell away from her. As the car ascends, I realize my hands are shaking, and every muscle in my body is tight with fury. How dare she come here to find me, hoping to do what? Reconcile? As if that’s ever going to happen.

  My heart is beating so fast I fear it’s reaching the danger zone. Naturally, the fucking keycard picks that moment not to work, but there’s no way I’m going back to the lobby while she might still be lurking about. I slide down to the floor and bust out a beer from the six-pack of Sam Adams I bo
ught on the way back to the hotel, realizing it’s not a twist-off and I don’t have a bottle opener.

  “Motherfucker.”

  Remember a month ago when your life wasn’t a complete disaster? The thought has me pulling out my phone to check what I was doing a month ago today. I scroll through the calendar app and find the date on which I had three back-to-back surgeries, a two-hour meeting with my research team and a late dinner with Ginger at my place. I remember that particular night. I tried to get her to tell me more about herself, but she dodged the questions the way she always did.

  I was too tired to care. All I wanted was to eat, have sex and sleep. Looking back, picking apart every minute I spent with her, I can see the signs were there. I just chose to ignore them. For the first time in years, I was in an actual relationship, having regular sex with someone who seemed to like being with me as much as I liked being with her. Why would I blow that up by making an issue over her not wanting to talk about herself? Wasn’t that a refreshing change of pace? I’d found a hot, sexy woman who preferred to talk about me rather than herself. She was a true unicorn. What more could I possibly want?

  So much more, as it turns out. She might’ve played me for a fool, but I was rather easily played. I’ve never been one to be led around by my dick, but that’s exactly what she did, and I let it happen. With ninety percent of my mental energy expended at work on any given day, the ten percent I had left wasn’t enough to delve deeper into the inner workings of my relationship with her or to come up with questions I should’ve been asking.

  That’s my bad. Not that I’ll ever think I deserved what she did, but for someone who’s always been told he’s freakishly smart, I was anything but when it came to her. I was a typical dude who didn’t care about the details as long as he was getting laid on a regular basis.

  In my heart of hearts, I knew something about us wasn’t quite right, and I didn’t care enough to figure out what.

  My phone chimes with a text. I pull it out of my pocket and experience a moment of pure elation when I see it’s from Carmen. Mr. Augustino reviewed the PP presentation today and said we need more about your research. Not sure if you still plan to meet with the M-D board, but if you do, send me more on that.

  I read the message three times, looking for something extra that isn’t there. She’s all business, and I can hardly blame her for that. Since she can tell I read the message, I respond with, Will do.

  Do I still plan to meet with the Miami-Dade board of directors? I turn it over and over in my mind. It would be so much easier to go back to New York, to pick up where I left off as if none of this ever happened. Before I met Carmen, that’s exactly what I would’ve done. I would’ve been on a plane within hours of hearing from the new board chair.

  But here I am, still in Miami, and why is that exactly?

  I think about the first time I saw Carmen, standing in the blazing sun waiting for me outside the hospital. I think about going to get her out of jail and how adorably undone she was by spending time in that cell. I smile, recalling how her hair had gone from ruthlessly straight to wildly curly in the two hours since I’d last seen her thanks to my convertible and the humidity. I thought she was stunning the first time I saw her, but even more so the second time, when her prim, perfect veneer had been upset by her time in jail.

  I remember her telling me she’d never even been to detention before she met me and landed in jail less than an hour later. God, she was adorable that day, so frazzled and worried about her parents finding out she’d been detained. What a refreshing change of pace she was from the start, unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

  I recall finding out she is a widow and wanting to know everything about what she went through and discovering, one detail at a time, how she survived it with her particular brand of strength, courage and determination. In many ways, she reminds me of my mother. She would love Carmen. Almost as much as I do.

  That thought stops me short.

  Hell, I love her. Is it too soon? Absolutely. Does that matter? Absolutely not. I love her, and I think, maybe, she may love me, too. Why else would she feel it’s so vital to take a step back, to protect herself from whatever damage I may inflict on her with my ongoing turmoil? If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t do that. She would’ve stuck around, enjoyed the time we have left, and walked away unscathed when I leave.

  After the amazing time we’ve spent together, neither of us will walk away from this unscathed. The thought of never seeing her again is unimaginable to me, and the possibility of that fills me with panic. I pick myself up off the floor and, hoping Ginger has taken off by now, go downstairs to get a new key.

  I’ve got a lot to do and not much time left to do it.

  CARMEN

  I hardly sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of Jason and Tony and dreading having to put my life back together once again. I hate being back in this place of grief and loss. No, it’s not the same as when I lost Tony, but the ache is all too familiar and unwelcome. I try to shake it off as I go through my morning routine, which includes a stop at Juanita’s.

  She immediately senses something is up. “Oh no. What happened? Where’s your sexy doctor?”

  “I . . . Um . . .”

  Juanita surprises me when she shuts her window, flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED, comes outside to take my hand and marches me inside. In all the years I’ve been buying coffee from her, I’ve never been inside.

  “What’re you doing? This is the busiest time of day for you.”

  “They’ll wait. What’s wrong?”

  “He’s probably going back to New York.”

  “Que lástima.” She hugs me tightly. “Lo siento, mi vida.”

  I’m determined not to break down, to soldier through this and get to the other side of it as quickly as possible. Two weeks ago today, I didn’t even know he existed. I refuse to allow him to ruin the life I worked so hard to put together for myself after the last time my heart was shattered. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Angry customers are knocking on the window, but Juanita doesn’t seem to care in the least as she hugs me long and hard. “So many people admire you, amiga. The way you’ve carried on after losing your sweet husband. Everyone wants to see you happy and smiling the way you’ve been with that hot doctor. It was a sight for sore eyes.”

  I frantically blink back tears, determined to press on without them. “Thank you, Juanita. I truly appreciate the support.”

  “If it doesn’t work out with him, you’re going to find someone else. I know it. A heart like yours is too big to hold all that love you have inside you. You gotta give it away, amiga.”

  I didn’t know she felt that way about me. “Thank you. That means so much to me.” I hug her again. “Now get back to work before you have a riot on your hands.”

  “Eh.” She waves a hand at the window as she hands me my cortadito. “They’ll wait. They’re addicted.”

  I laugh because that’s the God’s honest truth. Like me, they can’t get through the day without a shot of Juanita’s magic. When I try to pay her, she scowls fiercely at me. I send her a grateful smile and emerge from the shop, feeling the glares from everyone in the long line directed at me as I make my way to my car.

  “Don’t you be looking at her that way,” Juanita says. “I brought her in here, and if you want your fix, you’d better be nice to mi amiga. Now, who’s next?”

  I smile at her sauciness as I get into the car, perching my coffee carefully in the cupholder because God forbid I should spill it. Juanita’s cortadito is liquid-gold deliciousness.

  I’m getting ready to pull out of my parking space when Priscilla roars into the lot and comes to a stop next to my car. I’m frozen in place, unable to move or think or breathe or do anything other than drink in the sight of Jason’s gorgeous face. I’d have to be blind to miss the yearning in the lovely eyes that always look at me with affection and desire. Now is no different. He conveys so much with just a look.

  He gets out of h
is car, comes over to mine, and knocks on the passenger window. I eye the unlock button warily. It took every ounce of fortitude I could summon last night to take a step back from him. If I let him into my car, I’ll be right back to square one.

  I glance at the passenger window. He’s bent at the waist, staring at me imploringly through the glass. Every part of me wants every part of him. Even as I curse my own lack of willpower, I unlock the door.

  He gets in, closes the door and turns to face me.

  I crank the AC so we won’t roast to death.

  A quick glance tells me he’s tired—as tired as I am. He didn’t shave, and his hair looks like he “brushed” it with an impatient sweep of his fingers.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Sure. Never better.” I take a sip of my coffee so I’ll have something to do with my hands besides reach for him and beg him to stay with me forever.

  “You willing to share your fix?” Offering a small smile, he tips his chin toward the cup.

  I hand it over to him and try not to react to the moan that’s become far too familiar to me for reasons that have nothing to do with cortadito.

  He gives the cup back to me. “Ginger was at my hotel last night.”

  I gasp, nearly spill the coffee all over myself and realize my efforts to remain detached from him are for naught. I can no more remain detached from him than I can suddenly decide to quit breathing. “What did she want?”

  “Who knows? I told her to get lost.”

  “How’d she find you?”

  “That’s a very good question, but I didn’t care enough to ask. I just wanted her gone.”

  “Wow, she came down here to find you. That’s pretty crazy.” Suddenly, I’m chilled to the bone and not just because of the AC, which I turn down to low.

  “She’s nothing to me, Carmen. Surely you have to believe me when I tell you that.”

  I tell myself it doesn’t matter. He’s leaving. I’m not. I know he doesn’t feel anything for her, so I want to not care that she came here looking for him. Except I do care. I care more than I’ve cared about anything in years, despite my futile effort to step back from him and this crazy situation. With him sitting next to me, his familiar scent filling my senses and reminding me of so many intimate moments with him, remaining removed is all but impossible. “I do. I believe you.”