Page 22 of The Road Sometimes Taken

“Well, fine, but don’t do this with everything, okay?” she retorts, using her teacher voice on me. Borderline bossy but still sweet. Like the sound of a stream crashing over smooth rocks, it shows its presence but it doesn’t break the surface.

“Or what, sunshine?” I tease, and as soon as it leaves my lips I want to take it back because it came out flirty as fuck. Not uncommon for me, but I don’t want to push it.

“Try me and find out,” she snaps and I smirk at the same time she smiles and bites her lower lip. We’re suspended in this moment, with this air of electricity. Like a storm’s brewing between us.

The truck that is taking us to our tent shows up, snapping us out of our moment—whatever that was—allowing us to walk away without talking about it.

The drive is serene. The driver tells us a few things about the camp and when dinner and breakfast will be. He tells us that our tent is the last one but as we pass the others, I realizetentis a loose description. They are like small rustic houses in the middle of the wilderness. Made from a canvas-like material, each boasts a small porch and seating areas right next to them on the grass. There are all sorts of people staying here. We see some children playing with their parents and couples cozying up together. Some guests are lounging in hammocks, some are reading on porches, and some of the yards are empty. Each site blends seamlessly with the natural landscape and I’m intrigued to know what they look like on the inside.

Once we reach our spot, I notice there’s one glamping tent—it looks more like a house but made of canvas instead of whatever material houses are made—and bushes that hide what I assume is the nearby river because the water sounds a lot closer than it did at the main house.

We walk up to our tent and the driver waves goodbye as soon as he drops our bags on the porch. There’s a little sign that readsFlora & Faunaby the door. It’s a small cozy room with two armchairs and a bed.One bed.I didn’t even think about asking about the space and they probably assumed we were a couple so they also didn’t say anything else.

“Oh,” Cara exhales, blushing, drawing the same conclusion.

“Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the floor,” I insist, putting our bags on the bed and smiling at her.

Her brow is furrowed and she shakes her head. “No, Manny, you don’t have to do that. It’s not a big deal,” she says.

“It’s not, I’ll take the floor, it’s only one night. What do youwant to do here? Wanna go explore with me?” I ask and flash her a big gentle smile. I can almost hear her mind ticking so I’m trying to get her out of this space. The overthinking and overanalyzing that she finds herself in more often than not. She’s been doing this since we were young, or at least I remember Allie saying that. It’s hard to notice because in front of everyone else, Cara oozes confidence. She’s always smiling, flirting with everyone, and being the life of the party. But behind the smiles and the over the top dance moves, my sister could tell that she often overthinks everything. She’s never let me see the version of herself she hides before, or maybe I’ve never stopped to look for it. I usually get to see the sassy and friends-with-everyone Cara.

“‘Kay,” she says, “let me freshen up.” She opens her bag, grabs a smaller bag from it and heads into the bathroom. I open the mini fridge and see there are a couple waters. I grab one and pull out the drinks from the backpack cooler we were carrying earlier and add them to the minifridge.

“Ready?” she asks, walking toward me with a soft smile.There she is.Soft smiles and excited eyes. My favorite version of Cara.

“For you? Always,” I wink at her and we walk out heading toward the river. Or we try to but as soon as we walk out of the tent, my phone rings. It hasn’t rung all day and when I look at the screen it is Mr. Virgil—one of my oldest clients—and he never calls unless it’s important.

“I have to take this; go ahead and I’ll catch up with you,” I insist and she nods at me.

I sit in one of the cold chairs outside and answer the call.

“This is Manuel.”

“Manuel, I thought we were more thanin businesstogether,” Mr. Virgil says, his voice clipped and dense.Coñazo, ¿que diablos pasó??1.

“Of course we are, Virgil. We’re friends, no? What’s going on?”

“Well my assistant just told me that you won’t be in our meeting next week. I don’t feel like dealing with anyone else but you! So what? Now that your business is bigger you’re only focusing on larger accounts?”

Que jodia baina?2. “No, no. I’m taking some time off, and it just happened to be during this meeting. But Augusto agreed to take over or I can Zoom in.”

“Just because you two look the same doesn’t mean that he’s the one overseeing my account,” he adds. I can hear the frustration in his voice.

“Virgil, we both own the company. But I understand your frustration. Do you want to reschedule or do the meeting online? I have no trouble joining from my vacation.”

“Must be nice to take a week-long vacation. Send the invite and I’ll be in touch, Manuel. I only do business with you, got it?”

Got it.“And I appreciate your business. I’ll have Lucia send you a new calendar invite and I’ll make sure you have my full attention.”

He hangs up the phone and I cuss loudly. There’s a couple on a porch in the tent nearby and I can see their heads turning to see what’s happening. I guess that’s the downfall of being out here in the middle of nowhere—there’s no noise to drown when shit goes south.

I sit and breathe for a minute and drag my hand through my hairbefore calling Lucia.

“Mr. Zabana, I thought you were on vacation?” she asks.

“Lucia, why didn’t you tell me that Virgil was upset? He called me fuming. I’m sure someone in the office knew of this prior to him calling me. So how am I the last to know?” I bark. I try to control my tone so I don’t sound like an asshole. If there’s one thing that I take pride in, it is being a servant leader—walking the walk instead of just talking the talk. I learned about servant leadership in college and I connected with the concept immediately. I don’t scream at my employees, and the ones that have not tried to sleep with me have stayed with the company since we opened. I try to stay calm, cool, and collected because the last thing I need is for people to see me as anothermillionairewith anger issues.

“I’m sorry Mr. Zabana. Your brother said that under no circumstances was I to contact you. So I sent his assistant an email about the meeting, but I guess Mr. Virgil didn’t want to wait. It won’t happen again.”

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