And maybe one day she’d find her way to him the way he’d found his way to her.
For now though, everything was as close to perfect as they could be. And he wasn’t going to complain about wanting more.
43.
How to Love With a Fractured Soul
Carmen realised she couldn’t bring herself to paint anymore.
Well, technically speaking, she could. But it just wasn’t the same for the past few days. She’d be halfway through sketching something, or in the middle of painting on a fresh canvas, then the words would float through her head and send her world spinning.
Because I love you.
Those words. Words Asa had said to her without a second thought.
Words she knew in her bones that he meant from the depths of his heart.
Whenever she recalled that moment, everything else would cease to function. And the artwork she’d been working on would seem irrelevant, almost miniscule in the face of the fact that Asa San Román—the boy with the heart of gold—was in love with her.
Her fingers still ached each time his words resonated through her being. There was still that yearning to put her emotions into paper in the form of a drawing or a painting.Carmen just wasn’t yet able to figure out what it was that she wanted to create. Didn’t know how to channel the sea of emotions she was hopelessly swimming through into art.
She was sitting on the chair by her bedroom’s window, her drawing pad opened to a fresh page on the small mahogany desk in front of her, when there was a knock on her door.
“Honey?” her dad’s voice floated to her ears, pulling her out of her reverie.
She stopped chewing on the drawing pencil in her hand and called back, “Yeah, Dad. Come on in.” The word dad left a trail of bitterness on her tongue but she chose to not dwell on that for now.
The door swung open slowly and her father stepped in. His sandy hair was dishevelled and sea green eyes nervous. Then he walked forwards and seated himself on the edge of her bed.
“Drawing something new?” He motioned with his head towards the drawing book on her desk.
“Trying to,” she shrugged.
“But?”
“Inspiration is down or too high. Can’t really tell.”
He nodded, taking in her response as his eyes swept across the room, a fond smile lighting up his face when his eyes caught the framed photograph of the two of them at the restaurant they used to visit every Friday for dinner.
They’d tried to keep the tradition alive even after her mother’s death, but had only succeeded in doing it for three months. The pain had been unbearable, and everything that reminded them of her had to be erased from their lives. And so that tradition had died along with Sophia West.
“Dad?” Carmen asked gently, ignoring the pressure at the centre of her chest at calling him that. “What is it?”
Her father released a deep sigh, dropping his head as he lifted his hand to massage the length of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
Something must have happened, Carmen realised, and it caused an uneasy sensation to erupt in the pit of her stomach.
“Your aunt called,” he eventually said.
“My aunt?”
“Your mum’s other sister,” he muttered. “Beatrix.”
This wasn’t making sense. After all these years? Why was she making contact with them now?
“Why?” Carmen asked cautiously, dreading what the answer might be.
There was another sigh from her father. He seemed to wish that he was anywhere else but here, doing anything else but having this conversation.
“To invite us over for Thanksgiving dinner,” he finally said.
Carmen’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and her jaw dropped open in pure shock. This was definitely not making sense.
“Why?” This was the one question she was capable of asking—the only one she wanted to ask. Because her mind still couldn’t find any logical reasoning whatsoever that her presence was actually asked for.
“I asked her the same thing.” Dad pulled his brows together. “She said your grandma was the one who demanded it.”
“But why?” Carmen pulled in her bottom lip, anxiety rippling through her in gigantic waves.
“I’m guessing the old age must be getting to her. Time does that to people, sometimes. They grow oddly sentimental.”
“Do you want to go?” Carmen asked after a few minutes of complete silence, observing her father. Carmen didn’t think it was such a great idea, but she also couldn’t help but consider the fact that those people had once been her dad’s family. His in-laws.
But he shouldn’t have to pay for Carmen’s sins.
It was honestly twisted, the way he didn’t just lose his wife, but both the family he was born into and the family he married. And all because he chose Carmen over them. Years later, and he was still choosing Carmen.
That fact alone melted Carmen’s heart.
“The question is, do you want to go?” her father turned to face her, eyes serious but kind.
“I want you to be happy, Dad,” she mumbled.
He smiled at her then. The corners of his eyes wrinkled and affection lit up his face. “I am happy,” he told her. “I have you.”
But Carmen knew that’d never be enough—it couldn’t. She was still a reminder of all that he’d lost.
“We’ll go then,” she said, her tone not hiding her uncertainty and reluctance.
Her dad pressed his lips into a thin line, and in that fleeting moment, Carmen realised she’d picked up that trait from him. And somehow that tiny realisation embedded
