Sara spread her hands in front of her as if laying out all her cards. She had no Ace up her sleeve here. She only had her belief that when it came down to it, this kind, compassionate, good-hearted man would be honest with her. Because he valued honesty.
Luis sank down onto the shelf desk, anguish hollowing his dark eyes. “What do you want from me?” he rasped.
“The truth.”
“The truth is that I’m not capable of going all in with something that is, or has been, based on lies. Not again.”
“This situation is completely different. What you and I have shared, especially in here, in this room, has never been based on lies.”
He shook his head, denying her claim, and Sara drew back, wounded by his rejection.
Horrified, she sank onto the edge of the bed as something new occurred to her. What if she was wrong? What if for him this had just been about killing time while he was off work? And he was fine ending things when she left on Friday. Which meant, unlike for her, it was no big deal to him if they ended things early.
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, neither confirming nor denying the terrible thoughts attaching to her brain like a nefarious vine. “But I can’t risk it. I’ve done that once already. Taken a chance on a woman I thought I could help. Only, I got too involved, in too deep to see the truth. And nearly drowned in the end.”
Each phrase he uttered was like a supersize sledgehammer pounding her hopes for their future into a fine dust the ocean breeze easily carried away. She wanted to rail at him to wake up. See what was right in front of him. Recognize the damage he was doing to his family, to himself, to the two of them because of his inability to move on from the past.
But years of therapy had taught her that an individual needed to possess the desire to achieve positive change in their own life. There was nothing she could say or do that would make any difference if Luis didn’t want to let go of his fear.
And that’s what this all boiled down to. Fear.
This strong, compassionate man who willingly ran into burning buildings to save others was too afraid to save himself. Too afraid to let the past go and live fully in the present. Even if, as much as it hurt, that meant without her.
“I’m not Mirna. I don’t need saving,” Sara told him, pressing a hand to her chest and the ache building there. “And I’m not your brother. In fact, I’ve been more than honest with you. I’ve trusted you with my biggest fears and secrets. Luis, I want to be with you, for more than just this week.”
She rose off the bed, chin high. Defiant, in spite of the pain engulfing her. “But I need someone who’s capable of being my true partner. If you can’t forgive whoever or whatever it is you need to forgive so you’re no longer living with one foot in the past and one in the present, then by all means, finish your packing and go. Leave.” Her voice cracked as she gestured toward the door, certain if he walked through it he’d be taking her heart with him. “Because just like I said downstairs, I deserve better.”
Luis stared at her intently, his expression a battle between misery and stoicism.
Every moment together . . . running into him at the airport, their first question and answer game, dancing at Mallory Square, late night talks in bed, playing dominoes and cards with her family, taking that first intimate step at South Beach, making passionate and tender and wild and sweet love, their silly Would You Rather game, familia dinner dodging marriage questions from his mami, titillating caresses on his boat today . . . they all tumbled through her mind like images in a video stuck on fast forward mode, speed racing to the end.
Only, she wanted them to keep replaying it. Reliving it all over again, together.
Her heart ached. Her insides clenched with fear and need. Every part of her tensed with anticipation and she prayed he would find it in him to trust her. Trust himself.
Luis pushed up off the shelf desk and snagged his duffel off the bed. Not even bothering to zip it closed, he hooked the bag’s strap over his shoulder.
“You’re absolutely right; you deserve better.”
Sara’s heart shattered, the sharp pieces ricocheting in her chest, leaving her wounded and bleeding.
“Take care of yourself, Sara,” he said, his deep voice low, earnest. Sad.
The door clicked closed behind him and Sara slumped onto the bed.
She had done the right thing. Put herself out there. Asked him to meet her halfway. He simply didn’t want to.
The pain of Luis’s rejection consumed her. Tears burned her throat and eyes, falling in hot trails down her cheeks. She gave in to them. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs that came from a soul weary of not being enough for those she loved.
A tiny voice insisted that she was enough. She told herself that she would listen to it. Tomorrow. Tonight, the pain was too strong. Her tears fell faster.
Sometime later, her bedroom door creaked open and Sara peeked through her swollen eyes to find her mother tiptoeing inside. She crawled on the bed beside Sara and hugged her spoon-fashion.
“You cry all you want, sweetie. Mom’s here for you.”
Fresh tears soaked Sara’s pillow and she hugged her mother’s arms tighter.
Chapter 21
Luis turned down Eaton Street and sped away from the Vances’ rental home, his head in a tailspin. His chest felt like an aluminum can that had been run over and crushed by a ladder truck. Twice.
What the hell had just happened?
In the blink of his fucking eyes, the day had gone from “best ever list” potential to total shit show.
Reeling from the reality that his entire world had bottomed out, he crooked his elbow on the driver’s side windowpane and cradled his head in his hand.
As if he were walking through a call to file his report in the aftermath of a fire, he repeated the sequence of actions and dialogue that had led to his current situation. Him, alone in his truck; Sara, back at the house a devastated expression on her beautiful face.
One minute they were kissing on the front porch with him marveling at her strength of character, her ability to make that first move with her sister. The payoff it brought her.
The next, they were up in their room . . . her room . . . him feeling like a caged animal, agitated, uneasy. Scared.
His gaze cut to his black duffel, one of his running shoes teetering at the opening. About to fall onto the passenger seat where he’d tossed the bag in his haste to leave.
Shit, he’d done it. Left. Walked out. Turned his back on her. On the best thing that had happened to him in his life.
What the hell had he done?
Drowning in his own stupidity, he nearly blew through the red light at Duval. At the last second, he slammed on the brakes. The truck tires screeched to a halt on the hot asphalt. An older gentleman waiting to cross at the corner with his wife glared at Luis and wagged his finger, a reprimand for driving too fast in a heavily pedestrian part of town.
Rightfully chastened, Luis dipped his head in apology.
Sheesh. This was a new low for the infamous San Navarro. Pissing off old people he didn’t even know.
Hurting the one person who had made him finally start to feel whole.
Frustration and disbelief swarmed like bees, stingers aimed and ready to do their damage. He smacked the steering wheel with the butt of his hand, pissed at the situation and himself.
The light changed and by sheer force of will Luis carefully eased his foot onto the gas pedal. He drove without thinking about a destination. Unsure of where or with whom he belonged if not with Sara.
He crossed intersections Sara and he had biked through, passed couples walking hand in hand like the two of them had done, cruised past the zero mile marker where he had snapped her smiling picture after she had taken a selfie. Eventually he wound up at the Southernmost Point and even in the waning early evening light he imagined her standing there with her family, the sun’s rays glinting off her blond waves turning them to burnished gold.
Following the curving road, he realize
d where his subconscious had guided him.
South Beach.
The place where Sara had given him the safety net he needed to take that first step onto the high wire talking about what his past represented.
A baby step start to him dealing with the pain and betrayal and humiliation that had knocked him to his knees all those years ago. Burying it certainly hadn’t helped. It was still there. Rearing its vicious head like a zombie, seemingly impossible to kill. Injuring relationships with his loved ones, causing problems on the job. Keeping him staunchly in that rut Carlos had complained about.
Case in point, the way he had rebuffed Anamaría the morning she showed up for yoga with Ruth. The times he’d been short with Mami when she tried to offer comforting advice. Barking brusque orders and second-guessing his crew during calls. Distancing himself from others at the station instead of shooting hoops or hitting the weights alongside his team. Refusing to consider that Enrique’s explanations might hold up and, instead, virtually cutting off his younger brother.
Was that how he wanted to spend his life?
Walking away from emotional attachment. Beating up himself and those around him.
The Southernmost House, its peach and pastel Victorian architecture the subject of countless postcards and prints purchased by millions of the island’s tourists, loomed on his right. Luis instinctively turned down the dead end of Duval. Lured by a siren’s call he might never get out of his head. Somehow, he lucked into the last spot in front of the House.
A few people stood out on the dock extending into the Atlantic, their attention on nature’s nightly artistic swirl of purple, peach, and reds across the sky. At this end of the island, sunset watching was a more quiet, subdued affair. That suited his current mood.
Hell, who was he kidding. It suited his usual mood. Until Sara.
The beach area and café on the left were less crowded than during the day but still fairly busy. A smattering of beachgoers lingered on the blue loungers, relaxing before going out for the night or sleeping off afternoon drinks, or maybe both. Others sat at the outside café tables, enjoying the kaleidoscope of colors drizzling across the horizon and into the ocean water.
Head bowed, his thoughts heavy with self-recrimination, Luis trudged toward the dock. He tried, but probably failed, to smile a return greeting to a young couple huddled in each other’s arms where the sidewalk ended and the concrete dock began.
About halfway down, he turned his back to the setting sun’s handiwork, choosing instead the shadowy shallow water where he and Sara had progressed their relationship from friends intent on ignoring their simmering attraction to sensual, intimate lovers. Where he’d held her in his arms, her long legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him safe from the demons he hadn’t been able to slay. Where Sara had commiserated with him when he’d first told her about Mirna’s treachery and his brother’s presumed betrayal.
Presumed because, when it came down to it, Enrique had warned Mirna she needed to come clean. Sure, his guilty conscience had come a little too late, but it had come.
Luis had given Mirna a pass because comforting a dying woman had been the right thing to do. But her death had left him with no one to blame for her betrayal. Except his brother.
If Luis were truly honest, like Sara had asked him to be, it wasn’t Enrique he was angry with. It was himself. For not seeing the signs. For getting so swept up in his saving-the-world mentality, he didn’t realize that Mirna didn’t really love him. And what he felt for her had been more a sense of obligation and compassion.
Nothing like the love he felt for Sara.
Because he did love her. Dios mío, how he loved her.
The admission knocked his legs out from under him, as if one of his siblings had snuck up behind him to swipe behind his knees. Luis crumbled to the concrete dock, catching himself with a hand and wincing when several sharp pebbles gouged his palm.
His elbow buckled and he landed on his ass, his feet dangling off the edge.
He stayed there, long after the sunset had faded. The dock and beach area emptied and a purply gray night brightened by fluorescent streetlights descended. The full moon illuminated a wavery silver path across the water’s surface. And still, Luis couldn’t bring himself to leave.
His phone buzzed in his shorts pocket and he dug it out. Carlos’s name scrolled across the screen.
For a second, Luis thought about not answering it. Staying in his desolate world, apart from everyone.
Whether due to fate or God or a nerve tic, his thumb tapped the green icon to accept the call.
“Hey, ’mano, what’s going on?” Carlos’s cheerful voice sounded loud in the quiet of the empty dock.
“Catching sunset.”
“You mean you were; it’s nine thirty. My bad, am I interrupting romantic time with Sara?”
Luis watched a fish jump in the water. The splash sent concentric circles across the surface, growing bigger, then disappearing as if they had never been. Would Sara, after creating such a huge splash in his life, disappear now that he had screwed things up?
“Hello, you still there? Need me to let you get back to Sara?” Carlos asked.
“No. It’s just me.”
“At Mallory Square?”
“No, I’m at South Beach. Look, did you need something?” he barked, frustrated with the who’s-on-first routine with his brother.
“Coño, what crawled up your shirt? Gina and I finally got the boys in bed and I figured I’d see how it went out on the Fired Up with her familia. But I can see you’re in butthead mode. Frankly, I’d hoped being with someone as cool as Sara would knock some sense into your sorry ass.”
“My sorry ass messed things up. It’s over.”
The admission slipped out before Luis could stop it.
Several beats of silence passed; then he heard Carlos tell Gina, “I’ll be right back, babe.”
The heavy scraping sound of a sliding glass door in need of WD-40 opening, then closing, carried through the phone. He figured Carlos had moved outside by their pool for some privacy.
“What the hell’s going on?” his brother asked, concern weaving through his tough-love act.
Luis heaved a sigh, part of him wanting to stick with his regular nothing, I’m fine. But that way led to more of this. Him sitting alone. Pining for the woman he loved.
“I’m hanging out here on the dock at South Beach asking myself the same damn question,” he admitted.
“You want me to come meet you? Maybe grab a beer at Waterfront Brewery?”
Luis dug two fingers in the space between his brows, massaging at the headache throbbing behind his eyes. “You’re probably not the brother I need to talk to.”
“Wait a second, qué dijiste?”
“Don’t be a jerk; you heard what I said.”
Luis didn’t have to be with Carlos to guess that the jokester probably had a finger stuck in his ear, pretending to clear out the cobwebs, certain he was hearing things.
“It’s the same damn thing Sara insisted. Before I told her to mind her own business and walked out.”
Picturing her anguish, the tears he had caused, gutted him.
“Look, you know me,” Carlos finally said, all trace of humor gone from his voice. “I don’t do that woo-woo, let’s talk about our feelings crap. I’ve never pushed you to see a shrink who’s gonna ask what you see when you look at a blob of ink that’s like something one of my boys painted in art. Like I said before, you gotta find a way to get over what happened. Especially if it’s screwing up what you’ve got going with Sara now.”
Luis hung his head. Like an anchor tied around his neck, the weight of past hurts dragged him under the murky water of regret and recriminations.
“If you won’t listen to me,” Carlos continued. “Or Mami and Papi. Or your damn captain. Listen to Sara. Don’t mess that up. The way you were looking at her the other night, the way she was looking at you. That’s how Gina and I feel about each other. That shit’s go
lden, ’mano. Don’t let her get away.”
“What if I’m too late?” Luis’s question came out in a rough whisper, born of fear and despair.
“Do whatever you have to do,” Carlos advised. “Make peace with Enrique. Make peace with yourself. Then go get Sara back. Whip out some of your San Navarro magic that used to make you Mami’s favorite. Till I gave her the first grandkids.”
Luis barked out a laugh, the sound loud along the darkened pier. “I’ll always be her favorite.”
“Whatever. Now, I got a fine woman waiting inside for me, so I’m hanging up. No need to send me any money for my therapy fee, just know you’ll be watching the boys the first weekend Gina and I can get away.”
A tiny spark of hope ignited in Luis’s chest as he slid his phone into his pocket. His mind whirred, plans taking shape, tightening his chest with determination and, coño, a measure of fear.
He needed to find Enrique, apologize for the self-blame Luis had put on his baby brother’s shoulders. Follow Sara’s example and take that first step to make amends.
Once he’d proven himself worthy of her, there was an incredible, amazing, inspiring, and sexy-as-hell woman he intended to win back.
Chapter 22
Luis pulled up to his parents’ house early the next morning and parked next to Enrique’s black SUV. Peering at the backyard, he was relieved to see their dad’s pale green and white Everglades 253 cc still tied to the canal dock.
Papi had mentioned plans to go fishing today once Enrique got off shift. Luis needed to talk to his brother before they left.
Now that his mind was made up, Luis didn’t want to waste any more time.
He hopped from his truck just as Enrique strode out of the storage room they’d helped Papi build between the pillars elevating the older house. Several fishing rods in one hand and a beat-up gray tackle box in the other, Enrique headed toward the boat. Luis followed.
The moment Luis’s footsteps hit the wooden deck at the foot of the back stairs, his brother called out, “Oye, Papi, I don’t see—”
Enrique broke off when he glanced back to find Luis, not their dad, behind him. He frowned at Luis’s chin jut of a hello.
Island Affair Page 29
