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She waved a slender hand through the air. “Umm, around the time I started university.”
“I see.”
Did he? God, she hoped not. For some reason, every fibre of her being railed against him knowing just how deeply his rejection had affected her.
The waiter reappeared, holding an enormous tray loaded with food. It smelled amazing. Carrie banked down on the instant flash of hunger out of habit. There were six plates in total, each of them a glazed pottery in a different colour. One had green vegetables, one had something rice like, one was filled with crumbed olives, another had fish and tomato, the next had something bready, and the last plate had a sausage, chopped into several round slices. Carrie took in the offerings with a small shake of her head.
“Pass me your plate,” Gael said, holding his hand out in an expectant gesture.
Carrie lifted it silently, and watched as he placed an assortment of food on it for her. It was enormous. A mountain of a meal that she knew she’d never get through. “Thank you,” she murmured politely, taking the plate and putting it down before her. She didn’t attempt bringing her cutlery to it. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, wine glass in hand, and watched as he piled an even greater quantity onto his own dish.
“Your parents divorced when you were young,” Carrie said, a little distracted from conversation by the way he continued to shovel food onto his dish.
His dark brows winged upwards. “Yes. Is this something you would like to discuss?”
The restaurant, despite the fact it was mid-afternoon, was becoming busier by the minute. Carrie had to lean closer to hear him. She eyed off the food and hid her smile. “Well, we have enough to feed an army. We need to talk about something.”
He lifted a piece of broccoli into his mouth and chewed, then sipped his wine. “My parents divorced when I was ten years old.”
Carrie nodded. She couldn’t admit it to herself, but every detail he offered fleshed out her biographical profile of him, and that pleased her. “You stayed with your dad?”
His lips were a grim line. He had never discussed his parents with anyone. The habit of silence was one he discovered died very, very hard. “Yes.”
Curiosity sparked in her chest. “By choice?”
He speared a piece of chicken but didn’t eat it. He stared at the fork long and hard, and finally, expelled a pent-up breath. “My father…” He shook his head, struggling with the fact that he was about to reveal so much to another person. “My father painted my mother in a very bad light. He was wealthy. She was not. He took custody of me.”
Carrie shifted her head to her side. It was a mannerism she’d adopted as a child, and one which she only employed when lost in deep analysis. “He must have loved you a great deal.”
Gael swore in Spanish. She could tell by his inflection that he was scathing. “He hated her a great deal. I was irrelevant.”
“Why?”
His lips twisted angrily. “Because she loved me,” he hissed finally. “She loved me in a way that changed how she had once loved him. He resented me for it, and he sought to take me from her. It was the one thing he could do that would hurt her as much as she had hurt him.”
Carrie’s mouth dropped; she was appalled. “I can’t believe it. That’s callous, and your father is not callous.”
“Do you not think?” He scoffed, lifting the chicken to his lips and eating it without tasting.
“No, I don’t think. Diego has been …”
“A frail old man, riddled with cancer and grateful for every extra day on earth he is granted.”
That was true. But he was also sweet and kind. The very fact that Alexandra had remaine
d married to him had shown Carrie that Diego was a man of exceptional merit. Not because Alexandra had stood by him during his period of illness, but because he had stood by Alexandra – a far from perfect woman.
“He told me about the books.”
Carrie’s brow quirked and her pulse thrummed through her. “The books?” She stammered, her voice high pitched.
“Hmmm,” he agreed, fixing her with a mysterious gaze. “Yes. The books you read to him every week. He looks forward to it.”
Carrie’s cheeks flushed pink and she dropped her bright blue eyes to the white cloth of the table. Diego was supposed to keep it secret. Even Alexandra was not meant to know about the time they spent together.
“Why do you do it, Carrie?”
Her cheeks flushed hotter, turning from a shade of gentle pink to beetroot red before his eyes.
