He shook his head. "I'm beyond help. Ask anyone. Ask Roberto here. He knows."
Isabella glanced over at the middle-aged overweight bartender who gave her an uncaring shrug.
"Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?" she asked her father. "Carlotta said you're welcome at her house."
Surprise flitted through his eyes. "You know Carlotta?"
"She told me where to find you. She wants you to come home."
"No, she doesn't. She told me to get out and never come back. Couldn't blame her. I stole money from her."
"She's forgiven you."
"I need another shot." He lifted his empty glass and pounded it down on the bar.
The bartender ambled over, refilled the glass, and then moved back to help another customer.
Her father threw back the shot and let out a sigh of appreciation.
She decided to make one last attempt. "I'm Isabella. I'm your daughter."
He stared back at her, and this time his gaze just seemed empty. Then he said, "Tell Isabella I love her."
"Okay," she said, giving up.
Her father got up from the barstool and headed for the men's room.
She looked at Nick.
He stepped forward and wiped a tear from her cheek. "You all right?"
"He didn't know me. He didn't understand."
"Maybe he did—somewhere in his head. Do you want to wait for him to come out?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm done here."
They walked out of the bar and got back into the car. She held it together for about two minutes, and then the tears came followed by the choking sobs.
Nick put his arms around her and let her cry her way back to the city. She didn't know where he told the driver to go, but eventually they ended up at a small market. The driver went inside and came back with a box of tissues.
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and tried to pull herself together. "Sorry about that. I got your shirt all wet." She gave him a watery smile.
He tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear. "It will dry. Feel any better?"
"I actually do feel better."
"Sometimes tears are good."
"You've probably never cried a day in your life."
"Not true. I cried when my mother died. Not where anyone could see me, but there were a few tears."
"Everyone cries when a parent dies. That's understandable. But my father is alive."
"Not in the way you want him to be. He's sick, and your tears were an expression of grief for the loss of the man you'd held in your heart all these years."
"You're right. I don't know why he couldn't understand that he was looking at me—at his daughter."
"But he told you to tell Isabella that he loved her. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?"
"I guess. But I wanted him to know he was talking to me."
"You know that he loved you and that he still does. That's what's important. That's what you have to take away from this."
"I wish I could help him get better."
"I'm sure everyone in his family feels that way. Some people can't be helped. I know you don't want to believe that, but it's true."
"I don't want to believe that. I should have stayed in the bar and tried to get through to him."
"You did try. He didn't want you to get through to him. You told him he could go to his sister's place, and he said he stole money from her."
"She didn't tell me that."
"Addiction is complicated and horrifically painful to watch anyone you love go through. I didn't have it in my family, but I had a friend in college who went to the dark side, and a lot of people have tried to help him and failed. It drives his family crazy to know that they can't fix him. I suspect your aunt has had a lot of years of pain because of your father's disease."
"I still want to see her," she said. "How horrible do I look right now?"
He smiled. "You look like you've been through a battle—but it was a battle you won."
"Did I?"
"What do you think?"
She thought for a long moment and came to the only conclusion that made sense. "I don't feel like I won anything, but I'm glad that I saw him. I'm sad that he's the way he is. I will talk to my aunt about him. Maybe there's something I can do to help her help him. I know you'll think I'm a fool for having any hope that he could be helped, but—"
"But that's who you are," he finished. "You're fiercely loyal to the people you love, and you'd do anything to help someone in trouble. Like I said before, you're an amazing woman, and tonight your father got to see that."
"He didn't know it was me."
"I really think that somewhere in his head he knew it was you."
She didn't know if she could believe that, but it made her feel better to think it was true. "Thanks for going with me, Nick. Hopefully, having dinner with my aunt will not be so emotional or dramatic."
An hour later, she knew she was half right. There was no drama at her aunt's house, but there were plenty of emotions. Not only was her Aunt Carlotta there, but her cousin Liliana, and her boyfriend, and her other cousin Enrique and his wife and their twin babies. They greeted her with warm, loving hugs and a few tears, but these were happy tears. The family that had once been shattered was coming back together.
Her father was a big topic of conversation. She learned more about her dad's jail term and his many failed attempts at sobriety as well as a late diagnosis of mental illness. Her aunt confirmed that her father did speak of Isabella but never seemed to understand that his little girl might be grown up by now.
It was sad to know that there seemed to be little hope for her dad, but it was wonderful to reconnect with that side of the family.
Dinner was a lively affair with lots of conversation and many stories about the past. She worried that Nick might be a little bored, but he gave no indication of it, and he was fully engaged with everyone in the room. In fact, he seemed to enjoy hearing about her early years and how she'd been as a little kid. No one else in her life had ever heard about her childhood in Argentina, and the fact that Nick now knew so much about her made her feel even closer to him.
She was beginning to wonder how she was ever going to say goodbye to the man.
But she had a few more days before she had to do that, so she was going to enjoy the time they had together and let the future bring whatever it was supposed to bring.
Chapter Sixteen
Nick waited in the lobby on Sunday morning for Isabella to come down. After the disturbing talk with her father, the emotional reunion with her family, not to mention the jet lag, she was probably exhausted. He hoped she'd have enough energy to dance later, because today was the big day.
Martin stepped off the elevator and gave him a nod. "Are you ready to go?"
"As soon as Isabella comes downstairs."
"What did you and Isabella do yesterday while I was taking care of business?" Martin asked with a dry smile.
"We walked around the city. I saw a lot of Buenos Aires. Then last night we had dinner with some of her relatives."
Martin raised an eyebrow at that piece of information. "You hung out with Isabella's family? You—the man who rarely spends time with his own family?"
He shrugged. "It was fun."
"That's another word you don't use very often."
"I was mixing it up with the locals. That's what Juan Carlos wanted, right? Last time I mucked things up by spending all my time in the hotel studying the financials. I won't make that mistake again."
"Good, because if you'd done all that on the last trip, we wouldn't be here now. We'd have a signed contract and would probably be breaking ground on the resort."
"Don't remind me," he said with a little sigh. "I'm very aware of how much time we've lost."
"So when you were mixing it up with the locals last night, were you also mixing it up with Isabella? Because she is one beautiful woman."
"Not in the way you're suggesting," he said quickly. "It's not lik
e that—well, not exactly like that."
"You're into her, Nick. Admit it."
"I admit it," he said easily. "I like her, but it's complicated."
"Is it? Or are you just making it complicated? Isabella is attractive, warm, funny, smart…she's the whole package. What don't you like?"
"She's emotional. She thinks with her heart—when she thinks at all. Mostly, she just goes with her gut and leaps without looking. That's not who I am."
"Definitely not," Martin agreed. "But maybe that's all good. You don't want another version of yourself. You want a woman who challenges you. I think she does that."
"She also may be taking a job in the theater, dancing in some new musical. She could be traveling, on the road for weeks, maybe ending up in New York."
"Really? I thought you were trying to help her buy her studio."
"She has another option, one she should really take. I've seen her dance, and she could set Broadway on fire."
"So what happens next?" Martin asked.
"I don't know."
"You always know, Nick. Why not this time? What's different? And don't tell me you haven't given it any thought, because you always give everything a lot of thought."
"She's different—she's important. I don't want to screw it up," he said honestly. "I don't want to start something I can't finish."
Martin looked at him in surprise. "I've never heard you sound so serious about a woman before. Maybe she's the one."
His pulse leapt when Martin said the words aloud that had been running through his mind the last few days. Fortunately, he was saved from a reply when Isabella joined them with an apologetic smile. While her eyes were tired, she also looked happy to be up and ready for another adventure. She'd left her hair down and wore a floral dress that clung to her curves; her beautiful legs were bare, her feet accented by a pair of high wedge sandals.
"Sorry, to keep you waiting," she said. "I slept through the alarm. I don't usually sleep this late."
"Jet lag and time zone changes," he said. "It's not a problem."
"Good. How are you, Martin?"
"Great. Eager to get to the show tonight," Martin said. "I can't wait to see you two—dance together."
Nick saw the wicked light in Martin's eyes and gave him a silent glare that told him to behave. Not that that would have much effect on Martin, who apparently felt enough job security to say whatever was on his mind.
"You're going to be impressed," Isabella told Martin as they walked out of the hotel and got into the waiting SUV. "Nick is going to knock your socks off with his smooth moves."
"That is something I can't wait to see," Martin said, giving Nick another sly look before taking the seat in the back of the vehicle. He immediately put on his headphones. "You two feel free to talk. I'm going to listen to Joel's webinar on international sales strategies."
There would have been a time when he might have listened to that, too, or spent the ninety-minute drive to Juan Carlos's house talking on the phone or reviewing the plans for the project. But now he was more interested in talking to Isabella.
He sat down on the bench seat next to Isabella and fastened his seat belt. "Did you get any sleep last night?"
"It took me awhile to calm my brain down," she admitted. "I had a lot to think about, but I'm happy the night ended on a better note than it started."
"Your family was entertaining. Do you think you'll keep in touch?"
"Definitely. Liliana said she's planning a trip to California next summer, so I will see her then."
"How do you think your mother will feel about you reconnecting with your father's side of the family?"
"I'm not sure. But I think—I hope—she'll be open to it. Carlotta acknowledged that she hadn't treated my mother well and had blamed her for a lot of my father's problems. If she is willing to tell my mother that, it will definitely help pave the path to a truce." Isabella blew out a breath. "I can't thank you enough for going with me, Nick. I wouldn't have made it into those disgusting bars if you hadn't been with me. And I wouldn't have seen my father."
He wasn't sure it was such a great thing for her to have found her father in the condition the man was in, but if she was happy, he was happy. "No problem."
She looked out the window as they got onto the highway. "I'm excited to get out of the city. It will be fun to see more of the country."
"Did you take many trips out of the city when you were young?"
"I'm quite sure we went to some beaches, but I don't remember where they were."
"Well, you're about to be driven through some of the most beautiful land in the world."
"You really do love this country, don't you?" she asked, giving him a thoughtful smile. "You're not faking it to get the deal. You love Argentina."
"I don't know about love, but I do like it here. And I believe the resort will do extremely well, both for me and for the local economy."
"Are you nervous about dancing tonight?"
Actually, he wasn't as stressed about that as he'd thought he would be. A lot had happened in the past week that had shifted his focus—in a good way. He hadn't thought he was living in a narrow world until that world had been blown wide open. Who would have thought a tango teacher from Argentina could have done that?
"Why are you smiling?" Isabella asked curiously.
He shrugged. "It's just a good day."
She nodded, meeting his gaze. "I think so, too."
He could have gone on looking at her forever, but eventually she turned toward the window. "I can't wait to see your beach, Nick."
"It looks like the picture I showed you. I wasn't sure it would, because rarely does anything look the same after so many years have passed, but it did. The hotel, however, didn't fare so well."
She gave him a quick look. "The hotel?"
"The small hotel where my mother wanted to stay. It had only eight rooms, but four of them had beautiful ocean views. And one of them was only a step away from the sand. The grandparents of the man I'm doing business with now—Juan Carlos—owned the hotel for forty years, but they've both passed away, and while Juan has plenty of money and will soon have a lot more, he's decided to let the hotel be torn down to make way for my resort. He told me that his grandmother had always wanted a bigger place, so rather than preserve the old in her memory, he would allow something grander to be built."
"It's funny how we're all influenced by our families."
He hadn't really thought of it that way until now. "You're right. But just in case you're thinking I always have a sentimental reason behind my business decisions, I would have to tell you that this is the first and only time that I've bought anything because of a personal motivation."
She smiled. "I get it. You don't want to come off weak and sappy. And I believe you rarely make decisions based on sentiment, but I'm glad that you can, because a life without emotion is really not much of a life."
He thought about that for a long while, when he wasn't thinking about how silky Isabella's hair was, how it brushed against his shoulder, how he'd love to run his hands through it and see it spread across his pillow.
When those thoughts made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, he tried to focus on the countryside, but even the dark-haired, dark-eyed children playing on the side of the road made him think of Isabella, of what her babies would look like. Would her girls have her sparkling eyes, her sense of adventure? Or would they take after him?
Damn! Another bad daydream. He'd never thought about having kids. His parents' marriage had been dismal. He'd barely spent any time with either of his parents even though he had felt the closest to his mother, but she'd always been with his dad. What was the point of bringing a child into the world if you didn't want to spend the time with them?
And he had little time in his life for anything but business.
At least, he hadn't had that time in the past.
Maybe things would be different in the future.
As Isabella had said, a life without
emotion wasn't really much of a life. He knew that was true, because he'd lived that life. And he wanted more. He'd always wanted more. That was nothing new. But now that more included a woman…
* * *
Argentina was a beautiful country, Isabella thought, as they passed by picturesque farms and vineyards as well as small, charming towns with lots of history. Someday she would come back and take a longer trip, explore everything the country had to offer from the dramatic glaciers to the vibrant jungle and the sprawling pampas. She owed it to herself to learn more about where she came from, not just who her father was. For too long she'd turned her back on that side of herself, and in the future that would change.
The vibration of her cell phone drew her attention. She took it out and saw her aunt's number. "It's Carlotta," she murmured.
"Take it," Nick said with a nod.
"Hola," she said.
"He came home," Carlotta said, her voice filled with emotion. "Your father came to my house this morning. He looked me in the eye, and I saw my brother for the first time in a very long time."
"Really?" she asked, shocked at the news.
"He said that last night he was visited by an angel. Her name was Isabella. She asked him to try to get better. He said he wanted to do it for her. We just took him to the clinic. He'll stay there for many weeks. Hopefully, he'll get better."
Her heart turned over in her chest as she was overwhelmed with happiness. "I'm so glad. I didn't think he recognized me or understood who I was."
"Somewhere in his head, he knew. You did this, Isabella. You brought him back."
"Do you think he'll stay at the clinic?"
"I pray that he will. He's taken the first step. Hopefully, he will continue down this path."
"Should I try to contact him again?"
"A letter would probably be appreciated, maybe a photo, give him something to look at, to care about. I'll text you the address of the clinic."
"Thank you."
"You have only yourself to thank. I'm ashamed to say I had given up."
"You don't have to be ashamed to say that. I don't know that I could have dealt with his condition for as long as you have without losing hope or the will to fight."
Before I Do Amazon Page 16
