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Carlos opened his eyes and started to lift his hand as if to wave Will off. “I understand. It would be nice, but it’s enough that I can tell Emilia that I found out the truth for her.”
“It’s not all good news, you know,” Charlie interjected. Carlos lifted a questioning gaze to him, and Charlie smirked. “It does mean that Little Shit, Benicio, is your great-nephew.”
A loud cackle erupted from Carlos and he slapped the bed several times. Will tried to give his lover a repressive glare, but Charlie just smiled at him, trying to counter his troublemaking with cuteness. Sadly, it was working, and Will couldn’t be mad if his silliness was making Carlos happy.
“Yeah, well, we can’t pick our relatives, unfortunately,” Carlos said when he stopped laughing and could catch his breath. “At least Catalina turned out all right.”
Their conversation died off and they fell into a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes. Will was happy to let Carlos digest the new information and regain his strength. They needed to leave soon. The man had to be exhausted.
But Carlos had one more surprise up his sleeve.
With a twist of his lips, Carlos turned his attention to Charlie and announced, “Dr. Monroe tells me that you’ve been searching for me.”
Will dropped his face into his hand and groaned. After everything he’d done for Carlos, the old bastard just chucked him under the bus for laughs. He so easily could have rephrased that so it had nothing to do with Will, but no, of course not.
“I’m sorry. What?” Charlie demanded. Will looked up to see confusion digging lines across Charlie’s forehead as his eyes bounced from Will to Carlos.
“You can be a real asshole, you know that?” Will muttered, earning a new cackle from his former patient.
“I like to stir the pot. Gets the blood pumping and keeps life interesting,” Carlos countered.
“My life is plenty interesting, thank you very much. I don’t need the help.”
“Will? What’s he talking about?” Charlie interrupted, trying to get them back on track.
Will sat up straight and directed his most pleading gaze at his lover, inwardly praying he was understanding. “Charlie Sands, I would like to formally introduce you to Thiago Vergara.”
Charlie’s eyes went impossibly wide, and his mouth fell open as he looked at Carlos again. The smug prick just grinned broadly at Charlie and gave a little wave of his hand.
“Are you shitting me?” Charlie growled.
Will grabbed Charlie’s hand in both of his and squeezed, the words tumbling from his lips in a wild torrent. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I swore to Carlos that I wouldn’t tell a soul. I was trying to protect his life. Besides, it wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“Yeah, you can’t get pissed at him. He was keeping his promise to me,” Carlos said sharply.
“What? No, I’m not angry. Surprised. Shocked. Confused. Not angry.” Charlie stared down at Will. “You knew when I told you I was hunting for Vergara?”
“I did. I’m sorry. I needed to get Carlos’s permission before I said anything to you.”
Charlie managed a small smile and squeezed Will’s hands. He turned his gaze to Carlos. “I’m just confused. What happened to you? How did Yusuf Badem end up with your paintings in his private collection?”
A wistful grin spread on Carlos’s lips and he motioned for Charlie to sit. Will started to get up to give his chair to Charlie, but his lover just settled on the arm of the chair, wrapping one arm around Will’s shoulders, holding him blissfully close.
“Lord, it had to be in ’77 or ’78. Fuck, I’m old.” Carlos paused and shook his head. “Anyway, my work was just taking off. I was making more money than I had sense and mouthing off to the wrong people.” He snorted and grinned. “Sleeping with all the wrong people, too. But it worked out. The night I was supposed to be taken, this general’s wife got wind of it and got me out of town before they arrived. We bounced our way through Argentina and into Chile a little, having fun and ignoring what was happening in the rest of the world. After about three years, she heard her husband was dead and decided to return to Buenos Aires.”
“You didn’t return with her?” Will inquired.
Carlos shook his head. “Nah. It wasn’t love. Just a fling. Plus, it wasn’t safe for me yet. I waited another three years. After the military dictatorship fell, I decided to return to Buenos Aires under a new name. The world had largely forgotten about Thiago Vergara anyway. When I got to town, there was a new air of hope in the city. I decided to start painting with this crazy idea of remaking myself and framing my work with this new hope. I figured that if I could make it big once, it couldn’t be hard to do it all over again.” He paused and his gaze grew distant.
