Page 73 of Cava with My Colleague

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For . . . all of this.”

“Anyone would do it.”

“Jade—”

“You should nap.” I stand up. “Text me if you need anything. Or if you’re not feeling better tomorrow.”

I’m at the door when he speaks.

“Professional colleagues don’t usually bring each other home and take care of each other.”

I turn back. He’s still sitting up, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read.

“No,” I agree. “They don’t.”

We stare at each other across his bedroom, all the things we’re not saying filling the space between us.

“Get some rest, Carlos.”

I close the door before he can say anything else. Before I can do something stupid like stay. Like sleeping on his couch and letting the walls come down.

We agreed. Professional only.

Even if it’s killing both of us.

26

Carlos

* * *

I wake up to a gray bedroom, the sounds of the TV coming from the living room and fading light sneaking in around the curtains.

Did Jade stay?

I flick on the reading light, noting my half-finished sandwich sits on the nightstand. Someone put it there. I dress in shorts and a soft shirt, glancing at myself in the mirror and grimacing. I still look like shit.

Izan knows I’m up. I can hear him huffing his nose at the bottom of the door. The sound of the TV disappears, and I swing the door open.

It’s not Jade. It’s Fernando.

Disappointment hits me hard and fast, but I recover. Of course. She is my colleague. We’re professional. Fernando is family.

“Dad,” he says, rising to his feet. “How are you feeling?”

“Groggy. Sweaty.” Again. I bend down to scratch Izan’s butt, and he whines in pleasure.

“Can you eat?”

I grunt.

“Come. I made you rice. Eat before Jade comes.”

I straighten too fast, and sway. Fernando rushes up, placing a hand under my arm. I try to wave him off—“Don’t bring this home to Carmencita”—but he insists on guiding me to the couch.

It’s made up as a bed. I glance at my wall clock—it’s just after seven in the morning.

Fernando slept here.