Of Course, It's You

Chapter 17

CARMEN

Even though she was sitting in her office, Carmen felt both heavy and weightless.

She had never witnessed a person having a panic attack before, and to be entirely truthful, it was terrifying. Of all the things that could have maybe, hopefully, mended what she was pretty sure she'd shattered with Hannah, helping her through something like that wasn't on the list.

And yet, a strange feeling crept into her chest. Something comparable to hope, and she wasn't entirely sure why. It made no sense. She shouldn't feel this way about a one-night thing. A work-place complication she chalked up to as a mistake. She shouldn't care. But, if she didn't, she wouldn't have crouched on that cold bathroom floor clutching a woman's hand she barely knew.

Carmen flexed her fingers and found them colder now, emptier somehow, like Hannah had taken the warmth with her when she left. The comfort Carmen had felt while holding her hand, it had been selfish, she knew that. Still, she couldn't deny it.

She'd never been the one people would call for help–not like this. It wasn't work-related. The only times she helped anyone drive to the airport or move was Dani. But Dani was practically family. Even her own family rarely saw that side of her. The last person she dropped everything for had been Viktor.

And maybe that was the problem. People didn't call her 'cold,' for nothing. Deep down, she knew she wasn't cold, she kept herself at a respectful distance.

Carmen stared at her thumbnail, where the skin was torn and raw. She hadn't picked at it this badly in years. Opening her desk drawer, she pulled out a nearly forgotten bottle of hand lotion, and rubbed it in slowly. There was a sharp burn from the contact, but the soothing effect followed.

She stood slowly and walked to the window, arms folded tightly around herself. Maybe seeing someone else fall apart had shaken something loose in her. Helped her notice the chaos she'd been carrying around like a hidden wound. To know that fragility had nothing to do with weakness.

Lately, the familiar dark fog of anxiety wasn't hovering nearly as close as usual. She couldn't relax, not really, but she was aware that she was treading waist-deep in something. Something that was changing. And she was terrified the tide was going to rise without warning, and when it did, she wouldn't be able to keep her head above water.

Dani had been right. Again. Carmen should have just talked to Hannah. Should have been honest and upfront from the very beginning. But no, she waited until the poor woman had a panic attack to say anything worth saying. And the worst part? She felt responsible.

She hadn't considered the consequences of cornering Hannah like that. Of using her fear as leverage.

Maybe Dani understood more than she led on. Carmen thought back to their conversation a few nights ago. About the women she used to date. The gorgeous, socially curated, hollow women seeking someone with money and power. They were red-carpet arm candy who always knew how to smile for the cameras.

But Hannah?

She wasn't like them at all. Hannah wasn't wearing a facade, she wasn't controlled for the sake of a camera, and had no interest in her name. And that made it all the more harder.

Harder to lie to herself. Harder to call what they had as a "mistake." And increasingly harder to forget it even happened.

Carmen remembered the way her palm pressed into Hannah's chest, how the wild pulse of her heart had synced with her own rapid breath. That electric hum beneath the skin. The instinct to protect her, to soothe and hold her hadn't been logical. And it never happened to her before.

She hated that Hannah had been in pain and that there wasn't anything she could have done. She felt useless, and it wasn't something she was used to. Usually, she could throw some money at her problems, and it would solve them in some way or another, but not now.

She'd fired people. Navigated around messy scandals. Fought tooth and nail to claim her seat at the table. And yet, one panicked breath from Hannah had completely unraveled her. And Hannah had dismissed the entire thing today like it hadn't meant anything.

What was that about?

Lonely.

The word echoed in the stilled silence.

Carmen clenched her jaw. Maybe, that's what it was. Maybe she'd been alone for so long she didn't even recognize a connection when it happened. How long had she been mistaking independence for solitude?

The familiar sting of heartburn surfaced when she thought of her—Irina. The biggest mistake she'd ever made. Well... not at first.

~~~

"Do you think she's the one?" Viktor's voice rang over the clink of ice in her drink. He studied her every emotion as they stood in the kitchen of her Florida condo.

Carmen choked. "I'm sorry—what?" She grabbed a hand towel to wipe up the mess while Viktor laughed. "Did you really just ask me that?" She put the towel back. "Who are you and what did you do to my brother?"

The sunlight made the kitchen glow. Viktor, tanned and windswept from the beach, grinned like a man that needed this vacation more than she did. He popped open a beer and handed it to her.

"She's in the shower," He said. "So she can't hear us."

She took a long drink and winced., "Guinness? At the beach?"

"Stop giving me shit for my taste in beer, so I can give you shit for yours in women."

"Woah, hey now."

"I just meant..." he sighed. "I've never seen you like this before, Carm."

"Like what?"

"Happy? Carefree? Like you stopped checking your phone every five minutes and started actually living for once."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you gonna start singing Hakuna Matata at me?"

He laughed in a low rumble. "Don't tempt me."

He was right, though. She could feel it. How her mind instinctively drifted toward the hallway, toward the sound of running water. To the woman who made her heart do things it shouldn't.

"You're smitten." he crooned.

Carmen turned slowly to her brother, disgusted. "Eww. Don't ever say that word again." They both laughed at how ridiculous it sounded.

But she had gone ring shopping. The ring was tucked safely in the back of her kitchen drawer back in New York. She hadn't brought it to Florida. Telling herself it was too soon. That the timing wasn't right.

The truth?

She hadn't wanted to bring it. And that scared her more than anything. Even more than popping the question.

~~~

As the memory faded, the ache in her chest remained. Carmen hugged herself tighter, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

God, she missed her brother. Especially today. He would've known what to say, then would have mocked her for asking him to say the words for her. He also would have dragged her to a bar and made her talk it out, beer in hand.

So, she grabbed her bag.

The hotel bar wouldn't do. It had to be an authentic place, somewhere gritty and real. Authentic. A place where she wouldn't be recognized as The Carmen Mills.

Just... Carmen. Because, for tonight, that would be enough.