Page 59 of Cava with My Colleague

“Oh my god,” I say, my voice dropping low. “Carlos, you have a granddaughter and I didn’t know? After everything⁠—”

“What ‘everything’?” His voice is defensive now. “We’re colleagues, Jade.”

That stings. “Colleagues,” I repeat flatly. “Is that what we are?”

His jaw clenches. “What else would we be?”

“I don’t know, Carlos. You tell me. Because last week you kissed me in a hotel hallway and now you can barely look at me.”

He glances around sharply, making sure no one is close enough to hear. “Keep your voice down.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to be inappropriate,” I snap.

“Jade—”

“No.” I’m angry now, really angry. “You get me to open up and tell you my most embarrassing story. You know about my childhood cancer, my stage fright, everything. But I don’t even know you have a son? A granddaughter? An entire family?”

“I don’t talk about my personal life,” he says, his voice hard.

“No shit. You get me to be vulnerable and then you use it against me—you told Rebecca about falling off the stage—but when I turn it around to you, all you did was remind me of my riding crop that became Izan’s toy. That’s not sharing.”

Carlos stares at me. But he doesn’t deny it, doesn’t explain. He just looks at me with those shuttered eyes like I’m a problem to be managed.

“I didn’t even know you had a son!” My voice is rising again and a throat clears somewhere nearby. I’m reminded that we are not alone.

I take a breath, trying to steady myself. “You know what? Forget it. You’re right. We are just colleagues.”

I grab the brochures from my stack and shove them into his hands. He catches them reflexively, surprise flickering across his face.

“Jade—”

“I need some air before the presentation.”

I walk away before he can say anything else, my heart pounding. Behind me, I can feel his eyes on my back, but he doesn’t follow.

Good.

I find an empty hallway and press my back against the cool wall, closing my eyes.

A son. A daughter-in-law. A granddaughter.

An entire life I knew nothing about.

And why would I? We’re just colleagues. He said it himself.

The kiss was . . . what? A mistake. A moment of weakness. Something that meant nothing to him.

I was so stupid. Building fantasies while he has a whole life—a family, responsibilities, a settled existence in Madrid.

Three more presentations. I just need to get through three more.

The presentation is fine.

I deliver my lines, dredging up the energy to share my own story of survivorship. It’s harder now, and I’m struggling to feel like it’s worth it. Carlos translates beside me, and we don’t look at each other once.

When it’s over, I field questions from attendees, paste on my professional smile, and try not to think about the man who just called us “colleagues” like it was a weapon.

I don’t even like him. I’m just . . . attracted. Confused. Caught up in proximity.