Page 76 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

I needed to hear it from her. To know I wasn't the only one who felt that way. To know that, after everything that's happened these past few days, we're on the same page and ready to move forward.

We’re in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by tables full of people laughing, toasting, chatting, and celebrating with that joy that celebrations like these bring. The music has changed; it’s no longer that soft jazz from the beginning, but a slow, intimate melody, the kind that invites you to let yourself go without thinking about anything else. The lights hanging among the palm trees twinkle in the night breeze, and the scent of tropical flowers mingles with the saltiness of the sea and the warm, familiar aroma of her skin, which has always felt like a refuge to me.

Barbara holds me in her arms with that sense of security I missed so much and regained the first night we slept together. One hand rests on my waist, possessive and tender at the same time. The other is intertwined with mine, her long, warm fingers gently squeezing mine. Her thumb traces slow circles on my back, just above the thin fabric of the dress, and that simple gesture melts me from the inside, as if my whole body suddenly remembered all the times she’s touched me like this.

I look into her eyes and find it hard to believe this is really happening. That she’s here, in this paradise, with me. That she was able to look me in the eyes and tell me she loves me, that she’s always loved me. That she’s chosen to stay by my side after all this time and that she hopes this second chance we have will take us back to where we were before everything fell apart. A silly, shy smile spreads across my face, full of that happiness that still feels unreal, and she notices it almost instantly.

“What?” Barbara asks, leaning slightly toward me with that half-smile on her lips.

Her breath brushes my mouth, warm and with a faint scent of white wine.

“Nothing,” I reply, though I know she doesn’t believe me.

“Don’t give me that ‘nothing’ look because I know you too well,” she insists, her voice low and playful.

I chuckle softly, still pressed against her body.

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’ve finally gotten romantic in a magical place like this, and not on the couch at home on some random Tuesday.” I pause. “Do you remember how you asked me to marry you?”

She raises an eyebrow, amused, and the gesture lights up her whole face.

“Are you complaining about the ways I’ve declared my love for you?”

“No. I’m complaining that it took you so long to do it,” I reply honestly.

Barbara bursts out laughing, that hoarse, deep laugh that always makes something inside me melt like butter in the sun.

“Well, to make up for it… I can spend the rest of my life reminding you what an idiot I was for letting you slip away once.”

I look up at her and there it is again: that naked truth, that sincere sparkle in her eyes that I’ve missed so much during the years we were apart. That sparkle that tells me that, this time, maybe it really is different.

“Don’t talk to me about nonsense tonight,” I whisper, pressing my cheek closer to her shoulder. “I don’t want to think about anything bad. I just want this.”

Her expression shifts, a gesture so slight anyone would miss it. But not me. Because I know her like the back of my hand. Because I’ve spent the last few days noticing something strange about her, a tension that stole her smile and the happiness from her gaze. Yet this time, I won’t let my negative thoughts steal the moment from me. I don’t want to. Not tonight, not when everything feels like a dream.

I rest my cheek on her shoulder and close my eyes for a moment. Dancing like this with her is like coming home all at once. Her body is still my safe place, that spot where the world falls silent and it’s just the two of us. Her scent envelops me and suddenly transports me to all the places where we were happy: our couch on a rainy Sunday in Valencia, her arms in the middle of the night when insomnia woke us up, the first apartment we shared with walls adorned with ’80s floral wallpaper, our impromptu vacations, the silly arguments over who washed the dishes or who had left the lights on.

It all comes back. The good. The bad. What hurt. What I thought was lost forever. It all beats here, in the middle of this slow song that envelops us, in this embrace that seems eternal, in this second chance that gives me vertigo and peace at the same time, as if my heart didn’t know whether to leap for joy or protect itself.

“What are you thinking about?” Barbara asks me, kissing my temple.

I smile against her neck.

“About how it pisses me off that you’re so beautiful. You throw me off, damn it. And I feel like running away with you to my bungalow to do you-know-what.”

She snorts, and the sound vibrates against my skin.

“That was a very strong and intense statement, Lidia…”

“I can be even more intense if you want…” I whisper, seeking her gaze.

Barbara lowers her forehead until it brushes against mine, and her breath mingles with mine in a space so small that it almost hurts because of how intimate it is.

“Tell me a little about those intensities of yours… darling.”

“I want to slowly take off this dress and trace your body with my lips…” I reply, but my voice comes out as a burning whisper. “Your whole body…”

“How delightful…”