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He watched the man as he entered the lifts, blood pounding through his body. He knew he should leave, and yet … He cursed angrily and stormed back through the lobby.
He had to see for himself. At least then he could stop thinking about her.
* * *
“It’s not like that,” Carrie said with a shake of her head. “I don’t like him. I’m not a high school kid, Win.”
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nbsp; Far away, lying on the sofa watching True Housewives of New York City with the volume off, Juanita rolled her eyes. “It’s him. He’s got this power over you. First love and all that.”
Carrie didn’t bother to deny it. Juanita had been along for the maudlin, hormonal journey first time around. “I thought I loved him, but I was just a kid. What did I know of anything?”
“Well, what’s going on between the two of you then? I mean, you’re sleeping together. You’re in Spain together.”
Carrie squeezed her eyes shut. “I told you. I saw him kissing my mother. And he’s … I don’t know. It’s such a mess.”
“For a start, you haven’t told him what you saw. Maybe he’s not lying about what happened between them? Maybe it’s just different to what you witnessed. Maybe you misunderstood?”
“Misunderstood? I told you. I saw them kiss.”
“But you know it was a weird time for everyone. Diego had just been diagnosed; his health was poor. Maybe it was comfort, and nothing more.”
“Does Alexandra strike you as someone who would stop at a kiss?”
Juanita laughed quietly. “Okay, but what about Gael? Do you really think he’d flit between your mother and you? That’s sick.”
“I know! That’s the problem.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Trust me, you’re inventing an issue that isn’t there.”
“Whose side are you?” Carrie asked angrily.
“I’m on your side, babes. I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” Carrie snapped, rubbing her temples.
“Care-Bear,” the old nickname slipped out before Juanita could grab it back. “I know you love to pretend you’re this strong, unemotional, high-powered wonder-woman, but it’s okay to have some feelings sometimes.”
“I’m not pretending,” Carrie lied. “This is who I am now.”
“Why can’t you admit that you like him? That you maybe even still love him?”
“I’m hanging up if you’re going to keep going on like this.”
Juanita swung her long legs over the side of the sofa, and focussed on the plush cream carpet of her Knightsbridge flat. “I’m your best friend. The one person you can trust to tell you the truth – always.”
“I know that. But in this instance, you’re wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
Juanita had an annoying habit of being generally right, which made her insufferable to talk to at times like this.
“Look, I have to go,” Carrie said shortly, trying to invent an excuse. A knock came at her door and she praised the heavens. “My room service has just arrived.”
“Okay, doll. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, babes.” Carrie disconnected the call and walked quickly to the door. She’d passed hungry about an hour earlier. Now, she was starving. But, by the time she’d showered, dried her hair, popped on a minimum of make up and made herself presentable, time had run away from her.
