Page 55 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

And I believe it. Because when she smiles like that, when she looks at me that way, when her thumb traces tiny circles over my skin… everything else loses its power. Even the guilt. Even the fear. Even the truth I know I’ll eventually have to face. I squeeze her hand lightly, as if that small gesture could freeze this moment forever, as if I could stay here just a little longer, even though deep down I know it isn’t sustainable, that it isn’t fair, and that none of this is entirely real.

But it’s ours, and right now that’s all that matters to me.

The sunlight keeps pouring through the windows, bathing the table in a golden glow that seems determined to shield us from everything else. Lidia keeps talking about the flowers, about the last-minute details. I listen to her, nodding as her voice wraps around me. And for a few more minutes, I let the outside world remain exactly where it belongs: far away. Very far away. Because here, with her hand still resting over mine and her smile lighting up everything around her, there is only this moment and this woman who, without even trying, has made me forget—even if only for a little while—that my life is split in two.

CHAPTER 28

THE BUBBLE WHERE WE HIDE

Lidia

The exhaustion of the day weighs on my shoulders. It’s a sweet kind of tiredness, the kind that settles in when you know you’ve done things right, when all the details you worked on finally fall into place and your body craves rest even though your mind is still awake, pulsing with a calm, satisfied energy.

Miriam and I spent the afternoon putting the finishing touches on all those little details that still weren’t fully sorted out. Now everything is ready, set for the guests’ arrival and all the celebrations leading up to that special day. Although we both know perfectly well that there are things that, no matter how hard you try to control them, end up slipping away. Just like life itself. Just like love.

Barbara and I agreed to meet on the beach for a walk, and as I make my way down the path leading to the bungalows, I find her exactly where I imagined she’d be: leaning against one of the wooden posts, her gaze lost on the horizon, trapped in her own thoughts. The sound of the sea wraps around everything, the soft evening light paints the water in beautiful colors, and my heart skips a beat. It’s in that brief instant that I realize just how much I love her.

“I’m here,” I say, catching her attention. “Have you been waiting long?”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” she exaggerates.

“And miss this…” I reply, nodding toward the dark, shimmering sea stretching out before us. “Not a chance.”

Barbara smiles, and something inside me relaxes, as if that simple gesture alone were enough to settle all the emotional chaos inside me.

We begin walking slowly along the sand, still warm beneath our feet. Every now and then, a small wave reaches us, brushing against our ankles with a soft, cool caress before retreating again. The sky is perfectly clear, scattered with stars shining brightly above us. A silence settles between us, but it isn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it surrounds and protects us, as though the whole world has decided to give us this moment just for ourselves.

“It’s been a long day…” I say after a while, naturally breaking the silence. “I thought it would never end.”

“Believe me, I get it. Your father drove me insane. We were organizing the little souvenirs he wants to give the guests,” she adds, glancing at me sideways. “And you can’t imagine how picky he is. I wonder who you got that from.”

I let out a soft laugh because, honestly, I inherited that from him.

“They’re going to drive us crazy,” I whisper, moving a little closer to her. “But I’m glad I get to share this with you.”

We look at each other for just a second, and nothing more needs to be said. We both know how important it is for us to be here, living through this together.

We continue walking, letting the endless sound of the waves guide our steps. Without even realizing it, I drift a little closer to her, just enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body beside mine. Enough to admit, even silently, that I need it.

These past few days, ever since we crossed the line we’d drawn after our divorce, I haven’t stopped thinking about what our lives would look like if we could start over. About what everything would be like if we erased the last two years and focused only on each other.

“What are you thinking about? You’re so quiet,” Barbara asks suddenly, her voice soft and curious.

The question catches me off guard. I stop walking, turn toward her, and smile one of those smiles you can’t hold back, the kind that clings to your cheeks.

“Everything that’s happening…” I begin, shaking my head slightly. “It’s hard to believe that a few weeks in the Maldives and a storm have had more impact than all the times we argued or sat down trying to fix what was happening to us.”

I study her carefully, and suddenly I see something in her eyes that I haven’t seen in years: clarity.

“I know,” she replies softly.

The wind stirs a few strands of her hair, and for a second it feels as though everything around us stands still.

“I handled everything terribly, Lidia,” she continues, and the sincerity in her voice completely disarms me. There’s no trace of the excuses she used to make back then, nor the justifications that only made me feel small in her life. There’s only raw, unfiltered truth. I swallow hard, feeling that confession settle deep inside my chest, and I raise my hand to rest it over her heart. “I got obsessed with organizing everything without stopping to think,” she continues. “Our marriage, our life, our future… and I didn’t listen to you. I couldn’t hear what you needed.”

“What you needed.” Those words linger between us. Because that’s exactly what happened. That’s what hurt me. That’s what broke everything.

“You just wanted to grow,” I say without thinking. “You needed more, and the girls in Valencia weren’t giving you what you needed.”