CHARLEY FLOPPED ONTO her sofa and buried her face in her hands.
She didn’t think she’d ever felt so exhausted. It wasn’t even as if she’d had a particularly busy day. She’d worked at Poco Rio but it hadn’t been strenuous, not like some days there could be. She’d then had dinner at her mum’s house as her grandma’s hip was much improved. They’d had a microwave meal for two, just like the old days.
She should be happy. She had a roof above her head, food in her belly, her mum back on her doorstep and the new centre was progressing nicely, the fundraising cruise was days away...
Oh, but she was going to have to see Raul.
She’d debated not attending, but when she’d told Ava she thought she should stay away Ava had clearly ratted her out to the boss because she’d received a terse email from Raul saying that if she didn’t attend he would call the whole thing off.
The email had ended with a postscript: Charley, this is a result of your hard work. Enjoy it, please—you’ve earned it.
His words had played in her mind since she’d received them.
He’d addressed her as Charley.
He’d also called her that from his car.
Oh, but she missed him, a pain like nothing she’d experienced before, not even when their marriage had fallen apart the first time.
She’d spent over two months practically glued to his side. In that time they’d spent only two nights apart, when he’d travelled to Brazil. Right before she’d left him a second time...
Her head began to swim. All the thoughts and feelings she’d studiously avoided and denied these past few weeks crowded in on her with a force that could no longer be ignored.
Was it coincidence she’d broken their relationship on the very day her dad had stood her up again, on her birthday, and after she’d spent two restless nights missing Raul, imagining all the beautiful women who would be on his radar?
Could she...?
Was it possible...?
She straightened.
Was it possible she’d sabotaged their relationship deliberately, out of fear? Because Raul had been right, this time round, once they’d got over their loathing of each other and started to forgive the past, their relationship had been better than she could have dreamed. It had been everything she could have wanted. Raul had been everything she could have wanted. They’d been completely at ease with each other. Honest. Without pretence. Equals.
And she’d thrown it all away.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Was she really going to let fear ruin the rest of her life?
Was she really going to let Raul pay for the sins of her father? Because surely that was where it all originated? A lifetime of feeling replaceable had crept into her psyche and made her believe it to be gospel. Rather than wait for Raul to leave her for someone more suitable, someone less replaceable, she’d run away.
But he didn’t want someone more suitable.
He wanted her.
He loved her.
She sat up straight, suddenly as certain of something as she’d ever been in all her life.
Raul loved her with all her imperfections.
She jumped to her feet, bouncing, then slumped back down as another thought occurred to her.
He might love her but she’d hurt him badly. His pride was enormous and she’d wounded it, not once, but twice.
He might not want to listen to her. Even if he did listen, he could still walk away.
Oh, get some backbone, she snapped at herself. If he walks away it’ll be nothing less than you deserve. You’ll still live.
Better to try than spend the rest of her life wondering what if.
But before she could do anything, she realised there was something that needed to be taken care of first.
She’d spent the years of their marriage searching for her self-respect. Somewhere in their short second time together, she’d found it. She didn’t know where or when but it had nestled inside her. And now she needed to claim it. Until she claimed it and embraced it, she would never be free to love Raul properly, as he deserved to be loved, and nor would she be free to accept his love as she deserved. Because she did deserve love. They both did.
Reaching for her phone, she dialled. After a few rings it went to voicemail. She dialled again. The same thing happened.
She would keep trying until her dad answered. After all, he kept his phone on him all the time when he was with her, holding it in his hands while they chatted, or on the table by his cutlery while they ate.
On the fifth attempt her dad answered. He sounded breathless. ‘Charley?’
‘Hi, Dad.’ She took a deep breath and plunged straight in. ‘I just wanted to let you know I won’t be coming to visit you on Thursday. I’ll wire the money you asked for but that will be the last of any money you’ll get from me. If you need any more, get a job.’
He spluttered down the line, his words unintelligible.
‘I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you,’ she continued. ‘I love you very much but I won’t wait any more.’
Swiping at her phone to end the call, Charley closed her eyes. After a few moments she opened them and expelled a long breath.
That had felt good. Sad, but good.
How could her father or anyone respect her if she didn’t respect herself?
Respect had to be earned and that included self-respect.
And as she thought all this, something else struck her, something that made her sit bolt upright and clutch at her heart...
* * *
Raul stood in the golden atrium of his new cruise liner, smile fixed to his face, shaking the hands of his guests as they were led through by his crew.
Charley was here somewhere. She’d been aboard since early morning, working with Ava and other members of his executive team to ensure everything was ready.
He hadn’t seen her yet.
He hadn’t seen her in the three weeks since he’d dropped her back at her tiny house.
He hadn’t spoken to her either. Other than the one email he’d felt compelled to send her when Ava had mentioned Charley was thinking of not coming, there had been no direct contact.
Soon the atrium was full, ladies beautiful in their fanciest dresses, the men dashing in their tuxedos, the heavy scent of perfume and cologne filling the air. He gritted his teeth and forced a welcoming smile as he saw his parents and sister arrive, Marta pushing their father’s wheelchair.
He cut through the crowd to them, kissing them all. It was the first time he’d seen them since he’d dropped Charley back at her house in Valencia. He’d cancelled the meal he was supposed to attend at his family’s house last weekend.
It was the first time he’d been anywhere other than to work since she’d dropped out of his life.
‘Is Charlotte here?’ his mother asked.
‘She’s around somewhere,’ he said, his heart clenching as it did every time her name was mentioned. Her name had been mentioned a lot in his office, especially by Ava, who seemed to have developed some kind of girl crush on her. Raul found this completely understandable.
‘So this thing is for her charity?’
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
It was at this moment that they were called into the main restaurant where the first part of the proceedings, the meal, would begin.
Turning away, he followed the crowd to the large board displaying the table plan. As was proper, he’d been placed at the top table with the captain, his parents, sister, and... Where was Charley?
Scanning the other tables, he finally found her name at a door near the entrance, as far from his table as it was possible to get.
He caught Ava’s eye and beckoned her over. ‘Why has my wife been placed down there?’ he demanded to know.
‘She’s sitting with the children and their families—she thought it best for them to be by the door so if any of them get upset they can take them out and calm them down. She’s fabulous, isn’t she?’ she added reverentially.
Seven children, the same ones who had gone to La Tomatina, plus a couple of others, had been selected to attend with their families. Raul would have had all the children there but for the majority of them it wasn’t possible. Rather than being a night they could enjoy, the unfamiliarity and break from routine would have distressed them too much. All their families had been invited, though, as had all the Poco Rio staff and their partners.
He was planning on getting every euro he could from the other guests but for the children, their families and the staff, the night was on him.
He spotted little Karin, the beautiful white-blonde-haired girl who had such an attachment to Charley, and a tall boy in a wheelchair whose name escaped him...
And then he saw her.
She was walking in his direction, deep in conversation with another child’s mother.
She must have felt his eyes upon her for she paused and lifted her gaze to meet his.
His chest clenched.
Beautiful. She was beautiful. Glowing.
She was wearing a royal-blue lace dress that fell to mid-thigh and displayed her gorgeous curves, her now even lighter blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She wore black heels, which made her fabulous legs appear even longer.
Even with the distance between them he could see the animation in her eyes.
A tall man he recognised—possibly a famous American singer—stepped in front of her and the contact was broken.
Everyone took their seats.
Wine was poured and the evening began.
Course after course was brought out to them by an army of attentive waiting staff, laughter filling the room, overshadowing the piano player in the corner.
Through it all, through all the conversations he had with the others at his table, Raul’s eyes didn’t stray far from his wife.
Her table of twelve looked as if they were enjoying themselves immensely, Charley chatting away happily as she ate her food. Every so often she would look over to him and catch his eye and he would feel that pull that had always been there between them, right from the very start. The pull he knew deep down in his soul would never leave him.
He gazed at the children on her table. To her left was the boy in the wheelchair, being fed by his father.
A wave of sadness washed through him to think that boy would never be able to feed himself or do anything for himself. With the sadness came a tiny flicker of pride that he was doing something to make that boy’s life a little brighter.
Then his eyes flittered to his father, sitting opposite him in his own wheelchair, being fed by Marta, locked in his own version of hell.
For the first time he felt a wave of compassion for him.
His father had been a hard man. He’d been cruel and demanding of his only son. But no one, not even Eduardo Cazorla, deserved this. And neither did his mother, who could easily have left him in that plush care facility but instead had turned their home and life upside down so he could remain part of the family.
Charley would do the same, he knew. Forget about keeping up appearances, which he knew had played a part in his mother’s decision; Charley would never abandon someone she loved. Not unless she had to—or felt she had to.
While all these thoughts were filtering through his mind, the empty dessert dishes were being cleared away and from the corner of his eye he saw Charley head to the corner of the room where a microphone stand and booth had been set up.
After fiddling with the microphone for a few moments, she tapped it, the thuds of her finger reverberating through the packed room.
‘Can everyone hear me?’ she asked in Spanish.
Cheers rang round the room.
‘Okay, then.’ She cleared her throat. When she next spoke, her voice was clear, fluent and full of warmth. ‘Before I start the auction, I would just like to say, on behalf of all the children, their families and the staff of Poco Rio, the most enormous thank you to each and every one of you for being here tonight and for spending your hard-earned money on our centre. I promise you, every cent will be spent wisely.’
Even more raucous cheers carried around the room. She stood there beaming, waiting for quiet. ‘I would like to extend especial thanks to the wonderful man who made this night happen.’
Suddenly her eyes were on him.
Prickles ran up his spine.
Her smile faded a little but the warmth in her voice grew. ‘If it wasn’t for Raul, we wouldn’t be here and nor would Poco Rio. Please, everyone, raise your glasses. To Raul.’
The word, ‘Raul,’ echoed around the room, everyone staring at him and drinking to him.
He wanted to smile and accept the toast with good grace but he couldn’t do it. It was all wrong. They were toasting the wrong person.
Before he could get to his feet, Charley had started talking again and the auction was up and running.
* * *
Once the auction was over, Charley disappeared. He was about to seek her out—he knew she couldn’t go far, not with the ship being in the middle of the Mediterranean—when his mother rose and took hold of his father’s wheelchair.
‘Can’t you ask your mum?’ Charley had said. He’d dismissed her suggestion out of hand.
But, since he’d driven her out of his life the second time, he’d had time to reflect and suddenly the conversation became imperative.
He followed his parents through to one of the lounges, where he helped his mother settle his father in a quiet corner.
Raul waited until drinks had been served to them and they were all comfortable before talking.
‘Why did you just let me walk away from the family business?’ he asked, addressing his mother. His father’s reaction hadn’t been any surprise but it had always played on his mind that his mother’s reaction had been negligible.
A look of surprise crossed her Spanish features. ‘Could I have stopped you?’
‘No.’
‘There is your answer.’
He stared at her. ‘You didn’t even try.’
‘But I knew you would be okay whatever you did.’
‘How?’
‘Because you are just like your grandfather, Nestor.’
‘I am?’ Nestor had created the Cazorla empire but his name was one seldom mentioned in the privacy of the Cazorla home.
‘Of course.’ She nodded at her husband, who was gazing at the pair of them, his eyes flashing as if he was desperate to join in with the conversation, then sighed. ‘Your father never got on with Nestor any more than he got on with you.’
‘But why?’ Now he addressed his father directly. ‘I always felt as if I were a huge disappointment to you. There were times when I felt as if you hated me and wished I’d never been born. Nothing I did was ever good enough and I need to know why.’
A grunting sound came from his father’s throat. His mother patted his knee with a manicured hand, and smiled at Raul. ‘I thought you would have worked it out by now; you’re an intelligent man. Too intelligent, just like Nestor. He will hate me for saying this but your father had to work hard for what came naturally to you. He struggled with the business. He knew there would come a time when you took over and it would show up the failures he’d made. You intimidated him.’
Now there was a flash of pain in his father’s eyes. Suddenly Raul wished he’d chosen to have this conversation out of his earshot. His father couldn’t defend himself.
‘I intimidated him? He treated me like dirt.’ He shook his head and looked at his mother. ‘And you allowed it to happen.’
‘Allowed what to happen? For your father to correct you, as was his right as your father?’
At least she wasn’t pretending not to understand.
‘My own father was far harder on me than Eduardo ever was with you.’ She lifted the sleeve of her arm and showed him the old silvery scar that ran along her biceps. ‘My father did this to me in a drunken rage when I was seven. For all his faults as a father, Eduardo never once lifted his finger to you.’
He felt as if he’d been punched. She’d always shrugged it off as a childhood accident. ‘I never knew.’
‘It was a long time ago when such things weren’t spoken of, especially amongst people like my family. Personal problems were kept behind closed doors. We both suffered at the hands of our parents and we tried not to repeat that with you and Marta.’
He laughed without any trace of humour.
‘You think your father was hard on you?’ his mother said, a sharpness in her voice. ‘Nestor would beat him when he failed at anything or disappointed him in any way. I accept we didn’t always get it right with you but it’s those mistakes you will try to avoid when you have your own children. But know, you will make mistakes. We all do.’
The irony almost made him laugh again.
His own children? The only person he wanted to have children with was Charley, and he’d damaged her. Just as his father had damaged him.
Looking back at his father, he could see a whole heap of emotion playing in his eyes and suddenly he knew exactly what the expression meant.
His father wanted to apologise.
A part of him wanted to turn around and walk away and leave the unsaid apology unacknowledged.
Instead, he leant over and covered his father’s limp hand and squeezed, then pressed his lips to his cool cheek.
Life had punished his father enough. What kind of man was he to condemn him for eternity when his own actions had driven away the woman he loved?
For the first time he had an understanding of what his own parents had lived through and, while it was too soon to speak of forgiveness, he knew the road to healing—for all of them—had begun.