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“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked finally, her tone defensive.
Gael leaned towards her so that he could move her burger onto the table. “I worry about you.”
Carrie nodded. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t have an eating disorder, Gael. I just don’t like food like this.”
“And wine?”
She tipped her head forward in silent acknowledgement. “So I count calories. Maybe a little obsessively.”
He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “I want you to not,” he murmured. “Eventually.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t…” She stood in frustration and paced away from him. “It’s really nice of you to say that, but you forget what I used to be like.”
“Believe me, I don’t,” he said under his breath. “Memories of that night have tormented me for years. I felt like a lecherous bastard.”
“I was fat and squishy.”
“You were beautiful and curved, and your mother made you feel like a greedy pig because she could see exactly what everyone else could; that you are far more beautiful and sweet-natured than she could ever hope to be.”
Carrie made a sound of annoyance. “Don’t lie to me! I see her, and I see myself.”
“You’re not competing with your mother. She competes with you; you don’t need to buy into that.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But Carrie, I love you. The light I see in your eyes when you’re passionate about something; the way you laugh and smile, and the way you care about people with true goodness. I love you. Soft and squishy or slim like this, I just want you.”
She closed her eyes, and slowly moved back to sit beside him. “I hated what I was like.”
“Your mother still makes you feel like that, and now you look like you could model in a fashion magazine. Your mother bullies you, Carrie, and it has nothing to do with your looks. She’s jealous of you.”
Carrie nodded bleakly. “But all this time, I thought that you felt the same way.”
Gael put an arm around her shoulder and held her tight. “I know. I reacted so badly to that kiss. I was furious with myself. Do you know how close I came to sleeping with you? To lifting you in my arms and lying you on the ground, so that I could enjoy you fully? At seventeen, you deserved better than what I could give you.”
Her heart turned over, as years of pain began to soften at the edges. “I really thought I got it wrong. That you didn’t want me.”
“Oh, I wanted you.” He shook his head. “The sound of your voice, as it reached me across the lawns, made something inside of me switch on. I have heard you singing in my dreams.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Do you understand now, mi pequeno amor, that I love you with all my heart?”
She tried to remember the concerns she’d had earlier, but they were becoming less and less relevant. “But you…” she closed her eyes, forcing her brain to focus. “You didn’t remember me. That night.”
“Oh, I did. I knew you were familiar. On some level, I knew who you were. At the time, I thought that sense of familiarity came down to your beauty. I presumed you were a television or movie star; a model, perhaps a singer.” He ran his fingers down her hair. “I spent six years trying to ignore how I felt about you. Whenever I spoke to my father, he would tell me about you. He was so proud, Carrie. He thought you were the most amazing young woman. And he was right.”
Unexpected tears starred in her eyes. “I’m sorry I got to see that side of him when you didn’t.”
“I’m glad he showed his kindness to someone in the end.”
Carrie swallowed. Still, her doubts clogged her brain. “I will never forget the island.” She shook her head. “I know you think I’ve got some hang ups about my looks. You’re right, to some extent. But you made me feel … so ...” She didn’t know how to finish the thought. She shrugged wordlessly.
He groaned. “I know. I knew as I did it that it was wrong, but I was so angry with you! I hated the way you felt about yourself. I still do, Carrie.”
She was very quiet. It was her decision, and she had to make it privately. Could she accept everything he said and move forward? What did she want?
“May I show you something?”
Her heart turned over. Something that would help her understand what she wanted? “Yes.” She put her hand in his, and he pulled her from the sofa.
He led her gently up the stairs, into her en suite. The lights were very bright – optimal for putting make up on. She winced a little as they flared to life. Diego looked around until he found a face washer. He doused it in warm water, squeezing it through his hands to remove the excess.
