“You were never in love before,” Marlowe points out.
“I—” I try to think of a comeback, but I’m cut off.
Abuela clucks. “No woman breaks up with a man she loves because he wears a holster for his cell phone.”
I roll my eyes, knowing exactly who she’s referring to. “Chris also called guacamole green salsa.”
Abuela jerks back like I pushed her. “Well, maybe then,” she concedes.
“The point is,” Marlowe says, getting the conversation back on track, “that you can simultaneously have the big career and the big love story. I promise, it’s possible.”
Abuela nods. “You just have to be brave enough to take it, cariño.”
I don’t reply and Marlowe gasps as she finds a wallpaper she likes for her baby’s nursery. Even more miraculous? Abuela likes it too.
As they resume their conversation about the nursery, my stomach twists in knots. And an ugly realization washes over me.
I’m not brave enough to take both. Not right now. In this moment, I’m scared of losing everything I worked for. And I’m terrified of losing myself, again, in the process.
Carla
We should take a break.
I stare at the words I tapped out but I don’t press send. I can’t. Breaking up with Luca via text message is worse than all the silly reasons I used to end relationships in the past.
I delete my message, suck in a breath, and call him.
“Carla,” he answers on the first ring, making me feel even worse. His voice is low, laced with exhaustion, and I work a swallow to keep my own voice even.
“Luca, hi.”
“I miss you. I’m so happy you called.”
“You won’t be after we talk,” I warn, giving him a heads-up. In this moment, I hate myself for what I’m about to do. But I also don’t see another way forward. Not with everything on the line. Not when I’m questioning my own identity.
Weeks of paparazzi interrogations, fans’ social media posts commenting on my relationship with Luca, and now this situation between Luca and Sergio have successfully pulled the rug from underneath me.
I don’t know how to move forward and achieve success on the field as well as in our relationship. One of the two is going to suffer…and I can’t allow it to be my career.
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I won’t apologize for what I said to Sergio. But I am sorry the situation has hurt you, Carla. I wish it didn’t touch you at all.”
“I asked you not to get involved. And you agreed you’d let me handle it,” I point out. But my snark is gone. Right now, I’m drained.
“I know,” he agrees. “But the circumstances changed.”
“How?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then, he clears his throat. “Does it matter? You’ve made up your mind either way, haven’t you?”
I close my eyes, feeling moisture leak out and trail down my cheeks. “Yes,” I agree, my voice cracking. “This is…it’s too much, Luca. Everything feels too big, too messy, and just…too fucking much.”
“You’re overwhelmed?”
“And angry. Furious, really. Terrified?—”
“Of what?”
“Of losing…me.”
