Page 96 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“What?”
He squinted, searching for the word. “Businesslike.”
I laughed. “We are at work, a place of business.”
“Yes, but you’ve been much more open of late. It’s nice.”
I didn’t say anything, blushing, soaking in his words, remembering when I used to be nice to my team at the newspapers. It hadn’t gotten me anything. But that didn’t mean I didn’t miss it.
“So, any plans for tonight?” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Nope, just me and a good book. And a trip to Recoleta?” I bit my bottom lip.
“So, itwasyou.” He grinned.
“Yes.” I swallowed down the worries about admitting to my secret midnight trips. “How’s your grandmother?”
His eyes turned wistful. “She’s confined to her bed now. But she’s still hanging in there. Thanks for asking.”
I clicked open another document on his computer to hopefully signal that this part of the conversation was over.
Diego tapped the book in my bag. “Must be some book. You’re always with one.” He eased his cross-body bag from his desk drawer.
I shrugged. “It’s something to do.” I walked back to my cubicle, then powered down my computer and grabbed my bag. The last six weeks of helping Diego had been good for me. After the big rush of guilt had subsided, I finally had to admit I liked having someone to help, even outside work—picking up dry cleaning, dropping off meals, and assisting with more dexterous tasks. I wouldn’t admit it, but I’d be sad when the whole cast came off and I returned to my old routine.
“Well, it’s my last night in the cast. Why don’t you come out and help me with my drink to celebrate? I’ll need someone to maneuver the straw.”
I shot him a look. “You can’t manage a straw?”
“Ah, but I’m sure you would do it so much better,cariño.” I warmed at the endearment. He had started using it in the last two weeks, but I never reciprocated it.
“One drink, and then you’re going home. You’re not even supposed to drink on your pain meds.”
He stood up straight and tried his best to give me a salute, his sling flapping. “Yes, ma’am.” I just shook my head and followed him, locking the door behind us.
I turned toward a bar just a few doors from the office, but Diego shook his head, his wavy brown hair falling into his eyes. “If you’ve finally said yes, I have a different place in mind.”
“Different, huh? Am I going to like it?”
“Who is to say?” he said, shrugging. “You’ll have to let me know when we get there.”
I smiled as we continued to walk, Diego telling me to turn here and cross there. This was a different Diego, unlike the one I thought I knew. Yes, he liked to party and was obsessed with the gym, still doing leg exercises and waiting for the day he could lift his weights again. But he was more reflective than I’d given him credit for—more open—and I found his brand of optimism refreshing rather than grating.
“I’m curious,” he said, sidestepping a group of tourists, “why did you say yes tonight? More guilt?”
“You needed help with a straw, remember?”
He grinned, though his eyes remained somber. “I think the question stands.”
“It’s a Friday, and my book wasn’t that good. Besides, you won’t need my help after tomorrow. I don’t know—I thought I’d live a little.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “It’s good living, no?”
I chuckled, thinking about all I’d been through. “Depends on how long you’ve been around.”
“True. But you’ve done a lot of living. Traveling to over forty countries? It’s amazing. When these casts come off, I’m going to travel.”
“Really?” He had mentioned it before, but there was a gleam in his eye. He was serious.
