“So you are Nick’s girl?” Carmen asked.
“How about coffee?” Scarlett said, going for the cabinet. “Coffee is always appropriate for times like these.”
Eva had called itnormal. Apart from Carmen, the scene felt like déjà vu, and I had a sudden urge to be near my wife, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin.
Scarlett took out the same apparatus that Eva had, chicory coffee, the old percolator, and then turned the water on, filling the reservoir. “No, I was never his girl,” Scarlett answered.
“I know. I meant—you were the girl he talked about. The one who made him feel lucky.”
“Can a man like that ever feel lucky? Seems to me, those types believe they make the luck.” She shut the water off, splashing some droplets that ran down her hands against the sink.
“True.” Carmen tapped at the table for a moment. “How did you meet him?”
“I snuck out.” Scarlett filled her in on the story. “We danced. Nothing inappropriate happened. That’s it.”
“Same here. Well, the first time. Then he turned into an abusive ass.”
Those words seemed to stop Scarlett in her tracks.She could’ve been me,the expression on her face said. Her fingers found the wedding rings on her left hand, sliding them up and down.
Scarlett shook her head, turned the nob,click,click, and the scent of gas floated before the fire came up with awhoosh. She set the percolator over the heat and then grabbed two muffins from the counter, setting them on the table.
I took a step closer, my eyes narrowed. When she had reached up to take a plate from the cabinet, her top had inched up, revealing bare stomach. It was so faint that in any other light, I wouldn’t have noticed, which was why I hadn’t before.
Carmen was not the only one with bruises. The fading yellow tint of impact marred my wife’s clear skin, and a vision of how it must have looked before came across my eyes—red and black, as searing as a hot poker.
“Dario,” I barely got out. “Get Tito and Donato for me.”
He patted me on the shoulder, agreeing.
Scarlett poured two cups of coffee, oblivious to anything but the conversation. “So,” she said, settling at the table next to Carmen. She handed her a cup, then pushed a muffin at her. “Tell me about yourself.”
Carmen was born in Spain, but her mother died when she was two, and since she didn’t know who her father was, her grandmother took care of her. Her grandmother’s sister lived in New Orleans, had married a man there who died in a riverboat accident, and they came to live with her. Her aunt died two years ago. Her grandmother passed away a year later. Carmen was left struggling.
Scarlett took Carmen’s hand, holding it in hers. Her eyes became that fathomless cavern of secrets. She looked at Carmen the same way I’m sure Eva had been looking at me. “Are you attracted to Dario?”
Carmen’s tan cheeks turned a bit red. “Yes. He’s one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen. And those—”
“Eyes,” Scarlett answered before she could.
“Yes.” Carmen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing quietly. “I can’t escape them. I’ve never met a man with such serious eyes, but so…nice? I’m not sure that’s even the right description.”
“When they want to be,” Scarlett muttered, her expression here, but her mind in the distance. “Those eyes can make you feel like a treasure. Other times…”
I heard the warning in Scarlett’s tone.Other times they can tear you down, so you need to be strong, be a certain kind of woman, the kind that doesn’t back down. Before she could finish her thought, Carmen shifted in her seat.
“Me?” Carmen took a bite of her muffin, chewed, swallowed, and then took a sip of coffee. “A treasure?” She laughed like the joke was on her.
Scarlett nodded. “You’ll see.” She put her muffin down, playing with the wrapper before she cleared her throat. “Do you love Dario?”
“I like him—a lot. He can be persuasive when he wants something. Or feels it’s right.”
“Marriage?”
“I’m willing to put in the work.”
Scarlett looked into her eyes, not letting her skitter away. Finally, she nodded. Donato, Tito, and Dario came back then. Donato and Tito stood with me. Dario entered the kitchen.
“Tell me,” he said, putting his hands on Carmen’s shoulders. She rested hers atop his. “What do you think of my lovely Carmen?”
