Page 72 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

My father nods slowly, as if fitting each piece of the puzzle together in his mind and understanding more than I’m even able to express.

“Do you want me to talk to her?” he offers without hesitation.

For a moment, the idea doesn’t seem far-fetched. Having my father pry would be easy, comfortable; it would lift that weight off my shoulders and maybe give me answers to the questions currently eating me alive inside. But no, I have to be the one to find out what’s going on.

“No.”

He frowns slightly, worried.

“Lidia…”

“No, really,” I insist, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t want her to feel pressured. If something’s wrong, I want her to be the one to tell me. When she’s ready. Even if the wait is killing me.”

“Okay…” he finally agrees, though it’s clear he’s not entirely convinced. “But don’t shut yourself off either, okay? Don’t keep all this bottled up inside.”

I nod because I know he’s right. Even though that doesn’t make it any easier to carry this uncertainty that follows me everywhere.

We remain silent for a few more seconds, until the atmosphere gradually shifts and we begin talking about lighter topics: how nervous he is about the wedding, some of his friends who have arrived on the island and with whom he’s creating unforgettable memories, Miriam and the effort she’s put into making it a dream wedding for both of them, and what’s planned for tonight. For a while, everything seems normal. The conversation flows, the laughter comes naturally, and the tension I’ve been carrying inside eases a little, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.

When we get up from the table, my father hugs me and holds me close affectionately.

“No matter what happens…” he says in a firm, calm voice, “you’re going to be okay. And I’ll be here, always.”

I look at him and smile, but inside I’m not so sure. Not this time. I lean toward him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek, breathing in that familiar scent of aftershave and home.

“I love you, Dad.”

“And I love you, daughter. Very much.”

I step away from him and walk toward the restaurant exit. The sun is already higher in the sky, and the beach glistens in the intense morning light. The sea looks peaceful, almost calm, with its gentle waves breaking against the shore. So I decide to walk aimlessly, letting my feet carry me. As I walk, there’s only one thing I can’t get out of my head: the fear that something is about to break between us.

I wish I could say I’ll be able to handle it. But I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to watch what we’ve built crack apart until it shatters into pieces. Because Barbara is my everything—she always has been, and even though I’ve kept it hidden, she always will be. And the thought of losing her again terrifies me in a way I can’t put into words.

I keep walking, the sea breeze ruffling my hair and my heart pounding hard in my chest. Every step on the sand reminds me that time keeps moving forward, that the wedding is approaching, and that, no matter what happens, I’ll have to face whatever is going on. Because I don’t want to run away. I don’t want to pretend everything is fine when I know it isn’t. I want to face it, to understand it. And, above all, I want Barbara to trust me enough to tell me about it.

Even if that means my world will be shaken for a while. Even if it means I have to rebuild us all over again. Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that I’m not willing to lose her without a fight. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after finding in her the home I’ve needed for so long and haven’t found in anyone else.

CHAPTER 37

THE WELCOME PARTY

Barbara

The welcome party seems straight out of one of those dreams you keep tucked away in a corner of your heart for gray days—the kind you pull out only when life gets too heavy and you need to remember that happiness still exists.

All around me, the resort’s restaurant glows with an otherworldly light: garlands of golden lights, strung between the palm trees, sway gently and twinkle like little stars. The centerpieces, laden with tropical flowers, fill the air with a sweet scent that clings to the skin, and the murmur of the sea drifts in from the shore, mingling with the music and the magic that hovers over us.

I’d love to say that all this calms me, but it’s impossible. Inside me, there’s only a knot. One that’s been tightening around my throat since I opened my eyes this morning and that has spent hours—if not days—entangling itself in my ribs, robbing me of breath every time I think of Ingrid, every time I imagine her face when she sees me… when she sees me with Lidia.

I curse the moment Pablo decided to invite me to his wedding. Although, I don’t know why I’m looking for someone else to blame when it’s clear that I’m the one to blame for everything that’s happening. I shouldn’t be here. Not in this flowing sand-colored dress that Miriam insisted I wear, not with my lips painted the shade Lidia always liked, not with my heart racing for a woman whose life I’ve already ruined once. But here I am. Lying with every smile I force, lying with every silence, lying even in the way I pretend to enjoy the music filling the room while I glance, for the tenth time in less than a minute, toward the restaurant entrance.

“If you keep turning your head like that, you’re going to get a stiff neck,” Miriam says, and her voice draws a nervous smile from me.

She’s sitting across from me, looking gorgeous in an off-white dress that highlights her tanned skin. Next to her, Pablo is chatting animatedly with some friends who just arrived from Madrid, completely happy. He has that broad smile of a man in love who has found, late but not too late, the peace he’d been searching for.

I look at them and feel a twinge pierce my chest. For them. For Lidia. For me. For everything that’s about to explode.

“I’m fine,” I lie, raising my glass of wine to my lips to buy a second of time.