Page 95 of Cava with My Colleague

Diana wipes her hands on a towel and comes to sit at the table. “Carlos, you’ve been staring at that empty wineglass for five minutes. Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Dad.” Fernando’s voice is gentle. “We’re not blind. You’ve barely said two words since you got here. And you keep checking your phone.”

I hadn’t realized I was doing that. Jade texted me earlier—a photo of her and her friends on the terrace of the hotel. She looked happy. Relaxed. Like she belonged there with them.

It’s a reminder that Jade is an independent person, someone who’s been traveling the world, making friends, living life to the fullest without anything holding her back. What does she need me for?

“It’s nothing,” I say. “I’m just tired from the tour.”

“Bullshit,” Diana says mildly, and I blink at her in surprise. She rarely swears. Diana turns to me, her expression kind but firm. “What happened with Jade?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Carlos.” She reaches across the table, covers my hand with hers. “I’ve known you for eight years. I’ve never seen you like this. So either something happened, or something almost happened, or—” Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Something did happen.”

I pull my hand back, stand up, walk to the window. The Madrid evening is beautiful—golden light painting the buildings, people strolling below, life continuing as it always does.

“She’s leaving,” I say quietly. “She flies back from Monaco tomorrow. Then she has to pack and be back in Austin before August. Two weeks.”

“And you don’t want her to go,” Fernando says. It’s not a question.

“It doesn’t matter what I want. Her assignment here is finished. Her life is in Austin.”

“Is it?” Diana asks.

I turn to look at them.

“Or is that just what you’re telling yourself so you don’t have to take a risk?”

“Diana—”

“Dad, you’ve been living half a life for eleven years.” His voice is gentle but honest. “We love you. We’re grateful for everything you do for us—the babysitting, the Saturday dinners, the way you drop everything when we need help. But we don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for us.”

“I’m not sacrificing⁠—”

“You are.” Diana glances at my son. “You’re using us as an excuse. Using your ‘settled life’ as armor. And I understand why—losing Marisol was devastating. But she wouldn’t want this for you.”

My throat tightens. “You didn’t know her.”

Carmen screeches, taking offense to my tone, and I soften.

“Aye, I’m sorry.”

Diana pats the table across from her, and I obey, sitting on Carmen’s other side. “You’re right. But I know you. And I know Fernando. And I know that you’ve been going through the motions for years, and then you went on this tour and came back . . . different. Lighter. Like you’d remembered how to actually live.” She pauses. “That was Jade, wasn’t it?”

I don’t answer, but I don’t need to.

“Does she know how you feel?” Fernando asks.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s leaving.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Fernando—”

“Dad.” Fernando cuts me off, his voice with a hint of reprimanding that makes me feel the full effect of this role reversal. My son, looking out for my best interests. “Are you really going to let her leave without saying anything?”