by Ewing, A. B.
“I am sorry, Amor. I am sorry for everything. Por favor, do not leave me.” He was aware how he must look, standing here, begging his wife not to leave him but it did not matter. He was a desperate man.
“I can’t stay, Raphael. I have to go. This is best for us.” Dahlia’s tearful words ripped at his heart.
“How long will you be gone? Will you come back? Please, Amor, tell me you will come back to me. I will wait; it does not matter how long. I will wait for you.”
Shaking her head again, she sniffed, “I don’t know. I don’t know if we can get past this.”
In one fluent movement he gathered her up against his huge body, burying his face in her hair. Into the curly mass he whispered, “I love you, Dahlia.”
“I know, Raphael.”
They stood like that for a while; oblivious to the people that were bypassing and glancing at them. They didn’t notice the nearby pregnant woman that shed a tear at the pain they emanated, nor the little girl who looked at them strangely.
When Rafe finally released her it was with the heaviest of heart. He watched as she picked up her bags and crawled toward the boarding entrance. Up until the moment she disappeared from his view, his heart silently cried out for her to turn around and come back to him. She didn’t hear his silent pleas. Even though he was dying inside, Rafe was happy she didn’t turn around because if she did she would only see the broken man she was leaving behind.
****
Chapter 16
Raphael’s heart hammered against his ribs, his feet pounded the sand as he pushed his body beyond the normal limit. The blood sizzled in his head obscuring his hearing. Long, powerful legs forced his sweat drenched body down the length of the beach. Reaching the end of the course he circled the large rock which served as a marker and headed back in the direction he came from. This was the only thing that worked. If he forced his body to a point of exhaustion he would not spend another sleepless night. He would not spend another night staring at the picture on the nightstand until that feeling of hopelessness had him reliving the past.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been running but he knew it must be a very long time because he could feel the sharp piercing pains begin on his side. His throat ached from the fact that since he started he hadn’t drunk any water. But this is what he needed.
Once again, the phone in his running pants pocket went off but he continued to ignore it. Talking to people was the last thing on his agenda now. The questions were always the same.
‘How is that lovely wife of yours, Raphael?’
‘When will that beautiful wife of yours be coming back?’
‘Is she as lovely as ever?’
Why couldn’t people just understand that he didn’t want to speak about Dahlia? She was no longer a part of his life and he was moving on. If you want them to understand that, Raphael it needs to be true and it isn’t. A wicked voice inside his head whispered. Shaking his head roughly, he hoped to dispense of the unwanted thought but failed miserably. Dahlia was a vital part of him now as she was when she left nine months ago. He missed her desperately.
Everyone saw what he wanted them to see; a man that was coping quite well with an estranged marriage—a temporary one at that. They saw a man that was quite contented with life, a man who was not the least affected by his wife’s absence from his life. No one knew the turmoil he suffered inside. No one knew the way his heart broke repetitively. No one knew how many sleepless nights he had or how many afternoons he spent like this one, trying to drive his body into submission. The reality of it was, he was dying inside and no one knew it but him. So wrapped up in his own misery he wasn’t aware of the man that approached him until he spoke.
“You could have told me you wanted to kill yourself, Cavos; I would have simply walked with my gun.”
Halting in front of his visitor, he accepted the bottled water Sean Patrick tossed at him. Bringing it to his lips, Raphael took several generous gulps before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sean, what are you doing here?” He asked after sucking in several deep breaths.
Eyebrow arched, his friend grumbled, “You’re kidding, right?”
“I do not ‘kid’, Sean. You of all people should know that.”
“Rafe, it was only today we agreed that I would come over so we can discuss this crazy idea you seemed to have dreamt up about buying the Chez Hotel. I did text you as a reminder.”
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Raphael ignored the missed calls and scrolled through the messages. Sure enough, Sean had messaged him. “I must apologize. I forgot.”
“You, Raphael Cavos forget a business deal? This is something new.”
Ignoring the wise crack, Raphael strolled past Sean and started up to the house. “If you are still up to it, give me some time to grab a quick shower and I will join you shortly.”
“Sure, you go on. I know my way around.” Sean fell into step next to him.
Nothing was said between the two as they completed the short distance to the house. Once inside the large beach front home, Raphael went up to his room while Sean headed for the study. His mother constantly expressed her concerns in him purchasing this house, but this was one time her opinion didn’t matter. The recently renovated, five bedrooms, five bathrooms, contemporary styled house had cost him a pretty penny but to him it was worth it. Being this close to the ocean somehow made him feel close to Dahlia. No one would understand how much this little step was keeping him sane. Adjusting the temperature to cold, he turned on the water full blast. The stinging droplets punished his skin but it also cleared his mind.
Sean was downstairs to talk business, so he couldn’t afford thoughts of his wife to overshadow the decisions that would have to be made. Business man by day, lover boy by night, Sean Patrick was every young girl’s Denzel Washington. Their friendship extended well over ten years, mostly because they both shared one thing in common. They both loved to make money.
The first time they met was in business school. Sean was the black scholarship kid, while Rafe was the popular, rich Spanish kid. Sean had taken an instant dislike to Rafe, but when the two had finally clashed over a girl it was concluded that their time and effort would better utilized making money together. That turned out to be a major success as both men were now millionaires in their own rights.
Shower finished, Rafe dressed in a caramel brown button down shirt and denim jeans, made his way down to the study. Sean was relaxed on the wide leather sofa, a glass of scotch in hand. When Rafe entered, he motioned to the desk where he had already poured his friend a drink.
“So Patrick, what is it exactly do you think needs to be discussed?” Rafe got right to the point as he fitted himself into the seat behind his desk.
Legs spread wide; Sean rested his hands on his knees as he concentrated on Rafe. “I just wanted to make sure that this was something you really want to do.”
“Since when have you known me to make hasty decisions, Patrick? I want Chez Hotel and I will have it. It is as simple as that.”
“Nothing is as simple as that, Rafe. You do know that you are going to piss off a lot of people?”
“I am aware of that, yes. Is that your only concern?”
“I wish you would stop acting as if you are buying a new car. This is people’s lives we are talking about here. You just can’t go firing people as you like.”
“Why not? The hotel will be mine to do whatever I please.”
“Look Rafe, I know you miss Dahlia, but you can’t go taking out your frustration on other people. That is exactly what you will be doing to this hotel” Face set in a determined line, Sean declared.
“My personal life has nothing to do with this, Patrick!” Pushing back his chair, Rafe slammed his glass down, the brown liquid spilling over his hand and unto the table. Rising to his full height he glared at the other man.
Sean didn’t so much as blink. Remaining seated he looked up at Rafe. “This has everything to do with your personal life, Rafe. You w
alk around acting like everything is alright, but we both know that isn’t true.”
Rafe turned away from Sean to stare out the glass window. The sun was beginning to set in the horizon, lighting up the afternoon sky with its orange glow. Down on the beach a couple walked hand in hand while a child pranced around in front of them. His throat constricted at the sight. That is something he would never have.
“Rafe, you have to make a decision man. Either you hop on a plane and bring your wife back home or you let her go completely and move on.” His friend came up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. If only it was that simple. To let go of Dahlia completely, was no easy task. She had easily become the beat of his heart. How could he just let that go?
Spinning around he looked at his friend. “There is no need for concern, Patrick. I am fine.” He reassured him. “I wish you had gotten a chance to meet Dahlia, she would have loved you.” Rafe said, trying to cut through the tension in the room.
Taking the hint, the other followed his line of conversation. “I am sorry I didn’t get to, but that business in France was pressing. It needed to be dealt with, didn’t know it would take so long though.” Sean chuckled. ‘That business’ happened to be a French model that Sean was dating. The beauty turned out to be more than a handful. Claiming to be pregnant, hoping that she would get him to put a ring on her finger. Big mistake! Sean Patrick didn’t do commitment.
“Look if you are really serious about this takeover, you know I’ve got your back, Man. I just want you to be sure.”
“I am!”
“Well, I guess there is nothing left to say.” Raising his glass in a toast, Sean threw the last of the liquid down his throat, only to grimace as the fiery drink scorched its way down.
Rafe didn’t hear the key in the door, but when the soft knock sounded on the study door he answered “Yes.”
The door swung open to reveal Constance on the other side. She threw a quick glance at Sean before apologizing. “Oh I am sorry, Amor, I did not know you had company.” She was already backing out of the room but Rafe stopped her.
“No it is okay. Please, come in.”
Constance was nothing short of exquisite. Long, black hair fell all the way to her waist, high cheek bones, grey eyes and a body that was magnificently curved.
“Constance, this is Sean Patrick. Sean, this is Constance Martinez. Constance is visiting from Spain and she is a guest here.”
“Pleasure.” Sean responded, touching his lips to the back of her offered hand. Raphael smiled at the spark of interest in the man’s eyes.
Constance was unmoved. Gently removing her hands from Sean’s she turned to Rafe. “Amor, will we be eating out tonight or dining in?”
“The choice, Pequeña, is yours.” He offered looking down at her.
Tilting her head to one side, she lightly chewed on her full lip before she answered. “I think I would like to go out.”
“Then we shall go out.”
“Okay. Please allow me to- how do they say it- freshen up.” She ended. Glancing at Sean, she reached up and placed a gentle kiss on Raphael’s lip.
No sooner had Constance sauntered out the door Sean erupted. “What the hell are you doing, Rafe? Have you completely lost your mind?”
“I am afraid I do not understand what you mean.”
“I mean, what the hell was that all about? You have a live in lover?” The other man shouted at him.
“Is that so strange? Men do it all the time.” Rafe reasoned in an even voice.
Trying to drive his point home, Sean pushed, “Not married men, Rafe. You and Dahlia may be separated, Man, but she is still your wife. This is wrong. Do you know what will happen if the press gets a wind of this? They will chew you to pieces.”
A determined set to his shoulders, Rafe notified Sean, “Yes, Patrick, I am aware of that. However, I will not allow the press or anyone else dictate how I live my life.”
“For God’s sake, Rafe, think about what you are doing. The next thing you know, she’ll be pregnant and looking for a ring.” His friend beseeched him.
“That will not happen. Constance is here to serve a purpose. She knows that there will be nothing more between us.” Rafe stated as a matter of fact.
“Does Lauralyn know about her?”
“Yes, Mamá is aware of Constance’s presence here.” Mamá also knew her reason for being here.
“How long has this been going on?” Sean queried.
“About three months. I am quite sure if you were in the country, you would have known. Constance and I have been out in the public eye for a while now.”
“And the press has not picked up on this as yet? Well, you better prepare yourself because when they do, it’s going to hit the fan. I just hope you are able to clean it up.” Emotions on high, the two silently challenged each other with bold stares. Both men known for their determination to win refused to give in, but this was one argument Rafe intended to win.
Finally, Sean slumped his large shoulder in defeat, “For the second time this afternoon, I am going to say this, Rafe. I hope you know what you are doing.”
“And for the second time this afternoon, I will say this—I am!”
Sean placed the empty glass he was still holding on the table. “Since you have plans for the afternoon, I think it best I say good night.”
Rafe came out from behind the desk. Slapping his friend on his back he commented. “Sean, there is no point for you to worry about me. I know what I am doing.” They exited the study door and headed to the front entrance.
“I do not doubt that, Rafe, but I wonder if you are considering the consequences your actions may cause.” Sean offered as he shook Rafe’s hand before he left.
Alone in his study, once again, Rafe’s mind replayed the events of the afternoon. This meeting was supposed to have been about the Chez Hotel and his desire to purchase it. Instead they had spent most of it discussing Rafe’s personal life. Although, he would never admit it to him, Sean’s words had penetrated his defenses. His reasons for wanting to purchase the hotel were a personal one, but not in the way Sean assumed. Constance presence was another thing to ponder on. She was serving the purpose she was intended to, but what would happen if Dahlia found out? It could destroy any chances they may have if she ever decided to come back.
Emotions were something he didn’t do well, and now more than ever he was confused. A part of him believed that maybe it was time he let go. Nine months had gone by and she had not tried to contact him once. He was well aware his mother kept in touch with her, but other than telling him she was fine his mother never discussed Dahlia. The other part of him, the one that grieved for her daily, wanted to hold on to the hope that she would return. That part wanted to believe that there was still a future for them—a future here, in this house, with the children they would someday have.
So many times in the past nine months he had wanted to hop a plane, as Sean had so nicely put it, and demand she come home. Common sense warned him that this would be a blunder. If Dahlia ever came back it would have to be on her terms. She would have to be able to trust him again, love him again. Until then, he would have to continue the way he was going. One thing would have to change though. Constance would have to go. That would not pose a problem. He and Constance had an understanding. If and when Dahlia returned he wanted nothing to threaten that, and right now Constance’s presence would do exactly that.
****
Chapter 17
“I want to go back home.”
Natasha looked up from the meat she was marinating to study her sister who sat in the living room, bouncing Trent up and down on her knee as she made weird faces at him. “Are you sure?”
Looking up from the baby, Dahlia answered with a nod of her head. “Yes! I miss him.”
A huge smile broke across Natasha’s face. “It’s about time. I was wondering if I would actually have to beat some sense into you.”
Placing the baby on the carpeted floor, Dahlia rose a
nd made her way to her sister. The recent renovation Roger had done was really paying off. Just before Trent’s birth he had removed the wall separating the small living room and kitchen, creating much better access between the two rooms. Now, Natasha could keep an eye on her son while she cooked.
Head cast down, Dahlia continued. “I thought that the time and distance would make it easier to move on, to forget him, but it seems I can’t control what my heart wants. It wants my husband.”
Her sister lightly chuckled. “Dahlia, there was never a doubt in my mind of that. I just needed you to understand that contrary to what everyone thinks, marriages are not made in heaven. You and Raphael are different people, with different personalities. Opposites may attract, but they also clash.”
Dahlia raised her head to absorb her sister’s words. “You know what the funny thing about that is? I know all of this, but I have been so wrapped up in my feelings I haven’t given thought to anything else.”
Natasha wiped her hands on the apron that adorned her waist before she came around the counter to stand in front of her sister. “What I hope you take away from this experience is that there are always going to be challenges. Obstacles are going to come in different forms, but if you guys really love each other as I know you do, you have to work through them. Running is never the answer. I am not saying that you are going to allow Raphael to make you his proverbial punching bag, but don’t give up on the first instance.”
Insecurity in her eyes, she posed the one question that had been troubling her for days. “What if he doesn’t want me back?”
“Are you kidding me? Dahlia, that man loves you more than I think you know. I think the only thing that is keeping him from coming to you is that stupid Cavos pride.”
“But after the way I treated him, I am not sure if he still loves me.”
“Has the lack of sex totally numbed your brains, Woman?” Natasha playfully knocked Dahlia’s head with her knuckles. As usual Dahlia blushed at the mention of the word sex.
