Page 81 of Cava with My Colleague

“Yes.”

28

Carlos

* * *

The word hangs between us. Jade is still half-sitting, twisted to look down at me with those wide eyes, her hair falling over one shoulder. I can see her mind working.

She lies back down, and I brush her hair off her shoulder. She looks up at me and says with curiosity, “Were you celibate on purpose? Was it a vow or⁠—”

“No vow.” I run a hand through my hair. This is embarrassing. “Marisol and I—sometimes. Before she told me—before she told herself, probably—that she only liked women. But not toward the end, when we were able to talk about it and she was living more openly. After Marisol died, I just . . . didn’t. There were a few opportunities over the years. Fernando tried to set me up more times than I can count. But it never felt right.”

“Until now?”

I meet her eyes. “Until you.”

She’s quiet for a moment, processing. Then: “No pressure or anything.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “Jade. If anything, the pressure is on me.”

She grins. “Fifteen years is a lot of buildup. It’s not like riding a bike. What if you’ve forgotten how it works or can’t⁠—”

I kiss her to stop, which isn’t very effective since we’re both laughing. When I pull back, she’s smiling.

“I’m sure you’re going to be very good in bed, Carlos. After all this time,” she says, and it’s teasing. Then, quieter: “Are you sure you want to . . . ?”

In answer, I cup her face and kiss her again. Slower this time. Deeper. When I pull away, we’re both breathing harder.

“I’m sure,” I say. “If you are.”

Jade’s hand slides up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. “I’m sure. I just—” She hesitates. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to because we kissed or because I’m leaving soon or⁠—”

“Jade.” I catch her hand, press it against my heart. “I want this. I want you. I have wanted you for weeks, maybe months. I’ve just been too much of a coward to admit it.”

Something shifts in her expression. That vulnerability I saw when she showed me her childhood photo, but mixed with heat now. Want.

Jade wriggles out from under me. She stands, holds out her hand. “Come on.”

I let her pull me up, and we’re leaving my living room, Izan snoring peacefully in the corner, and this woman I’ve been fighting my feelings for is looking at me like I’m the answer to something as she leads me into my bedroom, our hands tangled together.

I have no idea what time it is. It’s dark and quiet, the sound of a city at peace. We don’t turn lights on, but my eyes adjust to the little light there is coming in from the window and the open door. Our free hands find each other and the smell of citrus in her hair wafts under my nose.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” There’s a pause, and for a moment I get self-conscious again. Jade’s openness, her confidence, can be intimidating. “We can⁠—”

But then she’s pulling me down, searching for me in the darkness, and our lips meet. Relief floods through me, and this time I don’t stop. My hands find her waist, slide up her back, into her hair. She makes a small sound and presses closer, her fingers working at the buttons of my shirt.

“Too many clothes,” she mutters against my mouth.

“Agreed.”

We break apart long enough to shed layers, the dim light a tease. My shirt. Her blouse. When she reaches for the hem of her tank top, I cover her hands with mine.

“Can I?”

She nods, arms up, and I pull the fabric over her head. My hands follow the same path down, feeling her warm skin and the soft, simple cotton bra. Nothing fancy, but my throat goes dry anyway.