no questions asked.
I suppose I could call Caz and get her to email me a picture to give them, but that means explaining the whole sorry mess to her; I know it comes from a good place, but I just don’t have the energy to survive her tirade of questions.
And then if they do catch him, can I really trust that he won’t be ruffed up by Carlos’s heavies? But then do I really care if he does, after all he put me in the hospital; surely he deserves some retribution for that?
For some reason though, the thought of it makes me sick with worry. I know he’s hurt me, emotionallyand physically now, but if anything, I feel sorry for him, he made a mistake, an unforgivable one, but he is clearly paying the price for it already.
I will never be able to forget all he’s done to me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I cared for him, loved him even, for ten years of my life. However wrong it may be, somewhere buried down in the deepest depths, he will always hold a piece of my heart.
My conflicting emotions are steadily becoming too much to bare, I hate him, but I care about him, I want him as far away from me as possible, but I don’t want him hurt.
That’s when the call comes in; Carlos walks out of the room again before answering it, all I can see is him nodding intermittently as he paces the hall.
Entering the room again, he looks relieved, “He was still in the resort, but not in his room, so it took a while to track him down. He must have known they would be coming for him because he was hiding in a bush when they finally caught up with him.”
“Umm…..did they hurt him?” the words come out as a whisper, I don’t know if I even want to know the answer.
“He put up a fight when they tried to restrain him. He got a little hurt, but nothing serious. They wanted to call the police, but I had instructed them not to, so they did what they had to, to get him out of there.” His voice is low, quiet; I can’t read him when he’s like this.
“I’m sorry” my default response, “it’s hard you know, he was my husband, this whole experience has just been harrowing, I don’t know how to feel?”
He looks up at me, his brow furrowed in a pained expression, “do you still love him?” he asks softly.
“NO! God no! Carlos, please believe me. I want nothing to do with him. EVER. But you need to understand, he was my husband, we were together for ten years! I can’t just erase that part of my life, it happened. Look at it this way, you don’t get on with your sister, but you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her right? It’s kind of like that” I’m clutching at straws, but it’s the closest thing I can think of that might explain my feelings.
“It’s not really the same thing” he sulks, “but yeah, I know what you’re getting at” he admits sullenly.
“Carlos,” I reach to him, putting my arms around him, “I will never be able to put into words how special this last week has been for me, and how in such a short time you have come to mean so much to me. I literally never thought it was possible to fall for someone as hard and fast as I’m falling for you.” The tears now coursing down my cheeks as I cling to him as if my life depended on it; I never wanted to bare my soul like this, but a mixture of strong painkillers, a bump to the head and the lost look in his eyes just broke down the wall I’d put up long ago, with one swift kick.
“Oh, Kate” he chokes back, returning my desperate embrace with equal force, “I’m so happy you feel that way, you’re the only person I……”he breaks off shaking his head and pulling me in tighter.
We stay in this position for an age, until my ribs start to ache under the pressure. I ease back, but keep my hands rested on his upper arms, anxious to maintain physical contact with him.
“What were you going to say? I’m the only person that what?” I prompt him gently.
He looks down, his hands rested on my lap, and clears his throat s if mentally preparing himself, “I’ve