CARLOS
Five Years Ago
July 8
Puerto Escondido, Mexico
I woke as the sun rose over the crest of the mountains to the east and ran my morning route, ten kilometers through the streets of Puerto Escondido with a finish on the hard-packed sand of Zicatela Beach. Broken clouds billowed overhead, revealing patches of golden blue, and electricity charged the air. Wind pushed inland.
Natalya was waiting for me as I walked up the beach, calves burning and body drenched. She sat on the half wall, drinking coffee. She was leaving in a few days. I’d drive her to the airport, kiss her good-bye, and make her promise me to call when she landed. She’d ask me again when I planned to fly to California.
I stopped in front of her and she smiled up at me. “Good morning.”
Gripping the back of her head, I gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Good morning.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You need a shower.”
“Only if you join me.” I sat beside her, groaning as I bent over to untie my Nikes.
“Hard run?”
“A good run.”
She smiled and sipped her coffee. “I’ve been thinking.”
I gave her a mock look of disbelief from my bent-over position. “That’s impressive.”
“Ha-ha.” She playfully shoved my shoulder; then her expression turned pensive. “Work is going to be crazy for the next few months.”
“Mari’s longboards?”
She nodded. “Between production and marketing, I’ll be pretty busy. I won’t be back until thetorneo.”
“November?” That would be the longest time spent apart since we’d met. It would seem even longer now that our relationship had taken a new course. We moved her luggage into my room the morning after our first night together. She’d been in my bed every night since.
I slipped off my shoes and soaked socks, frowning at the unfamiliar ache in my chest. “You aren’t having second thoughts about us?”
“No, not at all.” She reached for my hand. Our fingers twined. “But about what I’ve been thinking ... yes, I’m quite capable of that,” she teased, and I grinned. “Assuming your trip to California works out”—she tapped her head in reference to my fugue and that I’d still be myself, as in Carlos—“would you consider visiting me? November seems so far away.”
“I don’t know, Nat.” I slipped my hand from hers. “I haven’t decided yet if I’m going.”
“But you agreed to see Aimee. We talked about this.”
“I don’t know if I can go. I might not make it out of the country.”
“You’re still worried about your identification.”
“I’d be an idiot not to be.”
“Well ... if Jason Bourne can do it, so can you.”
“Who’s Jason Bourne?”
She opened her mouth to explain.
“Never mind,” I interrupted, pushing to my feet. I lunged a few paces away. Hands on hips, I turned to Natalya. “I called Thomas yesterday.” Her mouth unhinged. “He said my identity is legit. When I asked how, he wouldn’t tell me, not over the phone. He’ll only explain in person.”
“What did you say? Is he coming here?”