believe that when I see it. “That would be like you not breathing. Don’t do that again. Once is enough.”
The corner of Ricardo’s mouth tips up as he relaxes into the hammock. “As you wish, mon coeur.”
“You know I don’t like that nickname,” I argue, halfheartedly, even as I’m crossing the room toward him. I’ve already realized that arguing with Ricardo about that mushy nickname is futile. Almost without thinking, I reach out and touch the stubble along his jawline. It’s a liberty I’ve never taken with him, and I’m not sure how he’ll react.
Ricardo’s eyes are heavy-lidded as he looks up at me. “Is that why you’ve gone all pink and glowy?”
I snap my fingers away from his face, touching my own warming cheeks. “Shut up.”
Ricardo rolls his head in amusement. “Do you know why all of my relationships up to now have ended after only a couple of weeks?”
“Because you’re a commitment-phobe who doesn’t take anything seriously?”
He huffs, but when his eyes find mine, there’s something new in their depths. Vulnerability. “My mother left us when I was eight. For a long time, I assumed it was because she didn’t want me. I thought I wasn’t enough for her. That it was my job to keep our family together, and I failed. I was so absorbed in my own pain, that I didn’t see how much her absence affected my dad. But after a while, I saw how much he had changed. Before my mom left, he would get home from the office in time for us to sit down to a family dinner. He was always happy, eager to be with us. Smiling. You know? But after she left… He wasn’t the same. He started working longer hours, stopped smiling. Family dinners became me eating alone in the kitchen while the cook did the dishes. It made me realize. My mom… she left him just as much as she left me, and it destroyed him. I learned that love is dangerous, especially when it’s not returned in equal measure. I figured, if I didn’t let anyone in, they wouldn’t see that I’m not enough. They wouldn’t see that I’m lacking.”
I can’t speak. I have never understood Ricardo as much as I do right now. In this moment. Because what he’s saying, I understand it. I’ve been the little girl left behind with an anguished parent. The child wondering if I’d only been more, maybe my father would have stayed. Only in my case, my mom remarried. Found happiness again. From what I know, Mr. LaGuerre has never remarried. Ricardo has spent his entire life under the weighty cloud of his mom’s absence. No wonder he’s jumped from relationship to relationship without a backward glance. He’s never stopped running.
“But recently, I’ve realized something. It wasn’t me who wasn’t enough. It was her. Something about her kept her from being satisfied with our life as a family. It wasn’t my fault. You want to know what my dad said when I told him?”
I bob my head, unwilling to speak, to break the spell being woven between us.
“She planned to come back for me, once she was settled. She wanted me with her, at the time. She didn’t leave because I wasn’t enough. She left because our family had too much. She felt guilty staying when so many in our country had nothing. I don’t agree with what she did, but it helped to hear it. You know?”
This is all too much, the similarity between Ricardo and me. For all of my life, I’ve wondered what I lacked. What indefinable quality was missing from me that led my biological father to walk away from us, his family. And now to discover that Ricardo felt the same way...
Ricardo’s amber eyes home in on mine, and he cups my cheek with one hand. “Charlotte, I like you, and I think you like me too. Can we drop the pretense?”
I snag the inside of my lip between my teeth. Debating. I do not like relinquishing control like this. To anyone. If I admit to Ricardo that he’s right, I’ll be giving up some of my power. But I do like him. And after hearing his explanation tonight, I think I can trust him too. Gathering my courage to me like a soldier beckoning his comrades in arms, I meet his gaze. “Okay.”
A wide grin spreads over his features. “Then come here.” Pulling the blanket back, he pats the woven fabric of the hammock