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‘Thank you.’ She made her voice sound cheerful. ‘I couldn’t go back to dressing up every day but it’s nice to do it for special occasions.’
‘You always look beautiful, no matter what you wear.’
A lump formed in her throat.
‘I want you to know I’ve signed the deeds for Poco Rio over to you.’
‘But the renovations aren’t complete yet.’
He dropped his head with a sigh. ‘I should never have done what I did. It was a nasty stunt that I pulled and one I am deeply ashamed of. I just hope you can one day find it in your heart to forgive me.’
‘You had your reasons,’ she murmured, her head swimming.
‘No, I didn’t—not any reason that makes sense now I think back on them.’ He breathed heavily. ‘All it needs is your signature to make it official. You can either drop by the office to sign it or I can arrange for it to be delivered to you, whatever makes your life easier.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
He shrugged, turning his face back out to the illuminated city in the distance. ‘I’ve been thinking. With the amount of money raised tonight, there’s more than enough to fund another Poco Rio. How would you feel about scouting out suitable premises in Barcelona for me?’
‘For you?’ she asked, confused at the turn of direction.
‘I’ll pay for the building and any renovations that need doing. The funds raised can pay towards staffing and day-to-day running costs.’ He must have caught her dumb silence. ‘I’m happy to pay outright for it all, staff costs, upkeep, everything. The money raised tonight has been earmarked for the centre and it’s only right it be spent on it, but it can also be used to help other children in the same position. If we keep fundraising we can raise more awareness of what these children are living with and help even more of them.’
‘And you want me to help you?’
‘I want you to run it all for me. I’ll pay you a salary—’
‘I don’t want a salary.’
‘I know but I’ll pay it anyway. That’s if you choose to accept my offer.’
She opened her mouth, not sure what to say, but he spoke forcefully before she could make a sound.
‘Don’t make a decision now. Think it over. Let me know when you come to a decision.’
If Charley had felt dazed before, that was nothing to how she felt at that precise moment.
He really did trust her. He truly did believe in her.
‘I wish I could turn the clock back.’
Her heart skipped.
Sadness had spread over his handsome features. ‘It’s that bubble we spoke of before—I’m used to living in it but I never thought of how it would be for someone like you, because you’re right, it is a different world from the one you knew. I just thought you would adapt and fit in, not thinking that I needed to adapt too. It put—I put—so much pressure on you it’s no wonder the weight of it was too much. I see you now, living back outside the bubble just as you did when we were apart for those two years, thriving.’
Charley stayed silent, letting him say what was on his mind.
‘I know my standards are high. Too high,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘I spent my whole life having every fault picked over by my father. I was always striving for perfection in the hope of making him proud and getting one word—that’s all I wanted, one word—of praise from him.’
‘Being less than perfect doesn’t diminish you,’ she said. ‘It just makes you human.’
‘I know. Being with you has taught me that.’ He bent his head and forked his fingers through his hair. ‘That’s what I hate the most about myself. I swore I would never be like him but in my pathetic attempt to punish you for not wanting my child and having the nerve to leave me, I became the very thing I despise the most. Because you were right—that marriage was no place to raise a child. Can you ever forgive me?’
She smiled wanly. ‘I already have.’
He straightened and brushed a finger down her cheek. ‘I used punishing you as an excuse. The truth was I’d missed you so much that when the opportunity came to have you back in my life I grabbed it.’ Leaning down, he brushed his lips to her ear and whispered, ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Charley Cazorla. Whatever you decide to do in the future, be happy.’
With one last brush of his lips to her own, he stepped back and turned, placed his champagne flute on a small fixed table, and walked away.
‘I lied,’ she blurted out to his retreating figure, shoving her flute next to his.
He stopped mid-step.
