After we order our food, Carlos asks, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, Sedona? You’re too quiet.”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Just trying not to think about what comes next with us.”
His expression turns grave. He stares a hole through me and I can’t breathe. “Now I’m trying not to ask you what you’re trying not to think about.”
I give a short laugh, grateful for his ability to be so real with me. For it to be this easy to talk about something so hard.
The waiter brings our food and I tuck in, devouring my meal like I haven’t eaten in a week. I hope this isn’t the start of pregnancy cravings, because I don’t want to spend the next nine months eating everything in sight.
Ugh. And now I’m thinking about the pregnancy again. Not that I ever stopped.
I look out onto the pedestrian thoroughfare at a pair of musicians who just started up and Carlos follows my line of sight. He chokes on his wine and I look over, amused.
“Everything okay over there?”
He dabs his lips with his napkin. “Yes. I’m going to use the restroom, muñeca. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
It takes about thirty seconds for it to sink into my brain that he didn’t head in the direction of the restrooms, he headed toward the exit.
My instincts roar to life, hairs standing up at the back of my neck, vision tunneling like I need to shift and run. But what is the danger? I look around, and catch sight of Carlos out on La Rambla, talking with…
Oh fuck no.
It’s one of the council members. I’d remember that old son-of-a-bitch anywhere. He’s one of the two males who met the traffickers at the gate.
I throw some Euros on the table and get up, marching out of the restaurant. I’m so focused on Carlos and the council member, I don’t see a group of young men coming until they bump into me. Something pricks my arm and I nearly lose my balance, but one of them catches me. They are laughing and talking in Spanish-no, not Spanish-Catalan, the first language in Barcelona. One of them holds my elbow and says something friendly to me, but I shake them off, still barreling toward Carlos.
When I go to wipe away the stinging on my arm, my hand comes away bloody.
It’s nothing, but it adds fuel to my fury and sense of violation. A fury which Carlos is about to get the full brunt of.
~.~
Carlos
Don Santiago is here in Barcelona.
I’m ready to pound him into the ground. I don’t know what his game is, but I intend to find out. Now.
If we weren’t in a public place, I would already have his throat in my hand.
“Relax, mijo-Don Carlos-I’m not spying on you, as you say. I had business to attend to here and I thought it would be a good time for a visit.”
“Bullshit.”
Don Santiago hasn’t wiped his indulgently amused expression off his face yet and I’m about ready to do so with my fist. “Bueno. You’re right. The council has a stake in how you’re doing here with your female. I came to see if I could be of service.”
“Of service?” It takes all my effort not to shout the words. “What, are you going to send a mango and wine to our hotel room? Help get us in the mood?”
Don Santiago folds his arms over his chest. “Do I need to?”
I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms.
“Is she pregnant yet?”
Don Santiago looks over my shoulder at the same moment I catch Sedona’s scent.
Carajo!
I whirl, but it’s too late. She heard.
Her face is pale as snow, but fury blazes in her eyes.
“Sedona-this isn’t what you think.”
She’s already turned away from me, walking with purposeful strides in the direction of our hotel.
“Sedona-wait! Let me explain.” I chase after her. I stop myself just before I reach for her, because I’m sure she will deck me if I lay a hand on her. I opt for matching her stride, instead. “I don’t know why he’s here. I didn’t know he was coming. Listen to me.”
“No.” She stops and throws a hand out against my chest, halting me, too. “I don’t have to listen to you. In fact, I can’t. I won’t. I heard what he wants. Whether you claim to be innocent in your council’s dirty little plan or not, you’re a part of it. And that means I’m out.” She starts walking again.
“Fuck!” I can’t help cursing out loud before I pick up my pace beside her. “That’s not what-”
Except it is. She nailed it. I can’t argue with her take on what’s going down.
“Sedona, I’m not here to get you pregnant. I don’t see you as a prize. I came because I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to honor your request for space, but… I just couldn’t.”
“Well you’re going to have to,” she snaps. “Because I’m done.”
She’s done with me.
Her words drive a spike straight through my gut.
I slow my steps, let her advance without me. I’m not going to convince her to be with me by continuing to disrespect her wishes.
She doesn’t even glance back, still marching on toward the hotel. My chest feels like it’s been crushed by a hundred pound weight. I sag against the side of a building, hardly able to drag breath into my lungs.
She’s right. Our problems are insurmountable. She’ll never be able to forget what the council did to her and I am part of that horror. How could I even have hoped to bring her back with me?
The idea is ludicrous. It would only ruin her, like Monte Lobo ruined my mother. All her light would go out, she’d die a little more every day until she was either crazy, like my mother, or nothing but a shell.