“Don't tell me you’re afraid of a little street food?”
“Oh, just wait till I tell you about that time in Mexico.” I take her arm and lead her to a food truck I know, tucked away on a side street, but always with a line of locals.
We ordered one of everything to share off the menu, and found a small table nearby to settle down at.
Gela dives in with enthusiasm.
“So good,” she moans around a mouthful. “I haven't had decent tacos in ages.”
“I'll tell the chef at the house to add them to the rotation.”
“Gee, thanks!” she grins and drizzles some more habanero sauce.
“You’re going to burn your tongue,” I tell her.
“Oh, I’ve got a huge spice tolerance,” she tells me with an earnestness that makes me laugh.
We eat in silence for a while, and then she speaks. “Seriously, though. Thank you for today.”
“Anytime.” I smile back, softly.
“I’ve been thinking about these new clients, and what it means for me, you know?”
“Oh yeah?” I lean in, curious to know her plans.
She finishes the last bite of her taco. “I'm starting to see a real path forward.”
I nod, encouraging her to continue.
“If things go well with TriCore and SkyMark, I could expand. Hire a couple of people, maybe get a small office space again.” Her eyes sparkle with ambition. “I could really build something, you know? Something that's all mine.”
“That's great,” I say, meaning it. Her passion is contagious, and I find myself getting excited for her. “You deserve it.”
“And then, once things settle down with the Zakharovs, I could get my own place again. Something with good security, of course. I've always wanted a loft downtown, with big windows and a view of the city. With these kinds of clients, I think I could afford it, even.”
I feel my heart sinking with every word she says, and whatever she says next just doesn’t register. It’s like my mind’s frozen on her words. She wants her own place, without me.
“Valentin?” She waves a hand in front of my face. “You okay?”
I force a smile. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Just tired,” I lie, setting down my taco because my appetite’s just left the building. “We should probably head back. It's getting late.”
She looks confused, but I ask for the cheque anyway, paying as quickly as I can so we can get the hell out of here.
The truth is, Gela’s making plans for her future, and that future looks like it’s meant for just one. I don’t know how to tell her that nothing about her plans seems right, that if only she’d open her eyes, she’d realize I’m reeling here.
Can’t she see? I don’t want a future without her in it.
The drive home is quiet. Gela tries to make conversation a few times, but I only answer when it’s absolutely necessary, and that too, in grunts. The truth is, I can’t exactly tell her what I want, because she’ll only run. So I bite my tongue to keep her at ease, even though my heart is racing, my palms are clammy, andall I feel is soul-sucking disappointment at what she’s dreaming up without me.
I can sense her growing frustration, but I’m unable to bring myself to stay engaged in the conversation. Every time I throw a glance at her, I remember her talking about plans that clearly don't include me.
“Are you okay?” she finally asks directly as we turn onto the road leading to our estate.
“Yeah, fine,” I mutter, staring straight ahead.
