Page 41 of Cava with My Colleague

My heart does a strange little flip. “Of course. I’m glad I had your charger.” I smile, trying to lighten the moment, but Carlos doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he just keeps looking at me, his dark eyes searching my face. The moment stretches out, and I find I can’t look away. There’s something shifting between us, and I feel it in my chest.

“I don’t . . .” He hesitates, and then forges on. “I don’t have many people I could call on when I need help.”

He looks so vulnerable, so raw and exposed. So unlike the Carlos I’m used to.

Then he moves, or maybe I move—I’m not sure who starts it—but suddenly I’m wrapped in his arms, my face pressed against his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head.

It’s a full hug, the kind that means something. Not a polite side-squeeze or a quick pat. His arms are solid around me, and I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, still fast from the stress.

I slide my arms around his waist and hold on.

We stay like that for longer than we probably should. Long enough that I notice the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne, the way one of his hands has moved to cradle the back of my head. Long enough that when we finally do pull apart, there’s a beat of something—awkwardness? awareness?—that makes us both look away.

Izan, trapped between us for the duration of the hug, makes a disgruntled snorting noise and shakes himself off.

I laugh, the sound a little breathless. “I think someone’s ready to go home.”

“Yeah.” Carlos’s voice is rough. He clears his throat. “Can I walk you to the Metro? You came all this way.”

“Sure.”

We start walking, Izan between us, his leash slack. Neither of us says much, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels like we’re both trying to figure out what just happened, what it means.

When we reach the station, I turn to face him. “I’m really glad Izan’s okay.”

“Me too.” He hesitates, then adds, “Will you text me? When you get home?”

It’s such a small thing, but it makes me smile. “Yeah. I will. And I’ll see you around the office next week, I’m sure.” The only presentation we have next week is Madrid, so I’ll be mired in my office catching up on paperwork and reports instead of traveling.

Carlos nods. I watch him walk away, Izan trotting beside him, until they turn the corner.

Only then do I head inside, my mind replaying that hug, the weight of his arms around me, the look in his eyes.

16

Jade

I’m still nervous leading up to the presentation on Tuesday, especially since my boss will be there. But the week was more relaxed than I’ve had in months. We’ve had a few days in the office, “regular” workdays, where I’ve been playing catch-up. Instead of over three thousand emails in my inbox I’ve whittled it down to about two hundred that I actually need to do something about. Most of those will be filled into the “read while I have time” category, which I’ll try to do while sitting in planes, trains, or hotels over the next few weeks.

I caught up on all my housekeeping at home over the weekend, video chatted with my friends every day this week, and had my regular Spanish lesson and drinks with Manny. Now that it’s June, the days are long and warm and feel endless when you have a glass of tinto de verano in your hand.

It lulls me into a sense of security, and the nauseous feeling that starts on my walk to the venue surprises me.

Carlos catches me in the bathroom again. This time, while I’m leaning against the counter, a damp towel on the back of my neck, he hands me a glass of ice water. Things between us have improved a lot, and while I haven’t seen him much in the office—not unusual—we’ve texted every day. To my surprise, Carlos has been sending me updates on Izan. Usually just pictures with no commentary, but it’s always Izan getting into some kind of mischief or sleeping.

Now though, he looks at me nervously. “I have some bad news; there’s a problem with the teleprompter. It’s not getting power.”

I freeze.

“How can I help you?”

I shake my head, the glass of water forgotten. The panic is starting to rise, and my voice sounds too high. “What do we do?”

He checks his watch. “We have fifteen minutes until we start. We can delay a little bit, but right now we haven’t located a replacement yet. We’d just be delaying the inevitable, probably.”

“There’s no backup?”