Dinner on Friday

46. Carla

ENDURING LOVE

I was busy minding my business in the backyard when Bruce handed me a brown envelope with a small hard object inside it. I pulled the brakes on my wheelchair and looked up at him.

"I think it's a USB stick," he said, watching me with the same worried gaze I had seen in Sergio's and Vlad's eyes the past three weeks. It was the look of a concerned father or an older brother, but there was an undercurrent of you-poor-thing-you-look-so-sad-but-
I-don't-know-how-to-help-you.

Averting my eyes, I turned the envelope over before shaking it. In a handwriting I didn't recognize, my name stared up at me. Instantly, I got flashbacks to the notes Dante had shown me with the threats on them. My armpits grew clammy with sweat as I remembered that day and everything after it.

Out of all of it, Madeleine's betrayal is the one that stuck with me the most. I was going to need a lifetime of therapy to come to terms with the fact that someone I trusted so much could hurt me in such a callous way.

I still didn't know what I had done to her to deserve getting poisoned, not just once, but three times. Something told me that Madeleine decided to join Mathias's team because she wanted revenge for Eduardo's death. She was never truly herself after his passing, and I guessed she blamed me for what happened.

Despite feeling like I was about to pass out, a small part of me wished that whatever was in the envelope was from my husband. It was silly to hope, yet my heart fluttered uncontrollably at the thought.

Bruce's low voice drew me out of my delusions. "It came in the mail for you this morning. It could be from Dante's lawyer, but just in case, check it for viruses first."

Of course, it was from his lawyer. What was I thinking? He'd been at his family home for weeks, and he hadn't once picked up the phone to call me. Every day I didn't hear from him, I died a little bit inside.

"Carla, do you know how to do that?"

"Yes," I whispered before forcing a smile.

Bruce's kind brown eyes narrowed. "You don't have to do that. You don't have to pretend with me."

"I'm fine," I snapped as I released the brakes on the wheelchair to make my way back inside the house.

Bruce casually stepped in front of me. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and without uttering a word, he simply stared at me. I felt like a bug under a microscope; all my shame and insecurities were his to witness. I bowed my head and then started counting the pebbles on the floor.

The staring thing lasted too long for my liking, making me wildly uncomfortable. When I looked up again, those gentle eyes didn't waver.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," I said, "but I'm not fine. Far from it. I'm tired and need to sleep, but I can't sleep because I'm too worried my husband will never come back home."

He nodded but remained silent. Feeling a need to tell my story, I blurted everything that was on my mind.

"I'm afraid he's going to get hurt. His deal with Mathias to expose this Mx drug lord is nothing but dangerous. I don't know what I'd do if something were to happen to him. I'm already dying without him, and I know he's alive." I paused, and Bruce nodded, allowing me to carry on. "Most of all, I'm scared of what his absence says about me."