Lovesick

I should have known better than to return home early from my bachelorette party to surprise my fiancé. Of course he was cheating on me this whole time. I knew he was a player and always flirting with other women, but I thought it would stop now that we’re engaged. How dumb. “Once a player, always a player,” as my grandmother used to say—RIP.

Now I’m left with the mess to clean up. I’ll have to tell our friends and family the wedding is off, cancel the flowers I just ordered, cancel the venue…see if I can get my deposit back, return the dress, though it was from this super bougie boutique and they’re always grumpy to give back your money. Maybe they’d be understanding in this case. I need to cancel the caterer, but I might keep the cake. I ordered a decadent chocolate ganache cake with powdered hazelnut sprinkled on the outside and a soft brownie center. Ugh—it was going to be to die for! Yeah, I think I’ll keep the cake.

I checked my watch, and yes, I had time to do all of this in the cab on the way to the airport. I’m a problem solver, a doer. Give me a crisis and I’ll have it solved before you can snap your fingers. I’d likely been subconsciously preparing myself for this, because as I explained everything to the flower shop, the caterer, the venue—I could feel the anger subside and I was beginning to relish the idea of running away, single again. Let him have his half priced cake and I’ll devour my decadent three-layered, ungodly expensive cake. The dress shop did not take returns. Final sale and all that. But, it was fine. By the time I made it to the airport, I had a smile on my face and was looking forward to escaping to Cancún paradise. It’s so cliché, island paradise for your honeymoon, but it’s what he wanted and I left the planning up to him. The tickets were paid for, so why not use them?

I get to the resort and check in.

“Bienvenida a Cancún, señora Smith.” It would have been my married name.

“It’s Gates, actually.”

“Oh, perdón. Will señor Smith be joining you?”

“He will not. He’s preoccupied with another future Mrs. Smith.”

She gave me an understanding look and started clicking away at her computer screen, “señora Gates, it looks like we have an upgrade to a private beach bungalow available. Would you like to upgrade? We can use the card on file.” She gave me a conspiratorial grin.

I smiled back, “that would be lovely, yes, thank you.”

A few more clicks on her computer and she sent me on my way with a complimentary bottle of champagne.

The next morning I planned an excursion for myself. I went on an ATV tour of old coastal ruins. Carlos was our guide and I knew it’d be a whirlwind romance when he looked at me that first time. The tour ended at a local tequila company. He gave me a complimentary bottle and I invited him back to my secluded beach bungalow for a private taste testing. He spoke English well, but his Spanish sounded so much better. 

Most of my days on Cancún went that way—I woke up early, maybe walked along the beach, had room service bring me breakfast. Then, I’d go out on whatever excursion piqued my interest. Most late afternoons I sunbathed topless on the private beach outside the bungalow. Every evening, Carlos would join me for a private dinner and then we’d make love with the windows open and the lights on. It was so freeing after everything. I know we weren’t in love, but it felt good to be wanted so unabashedly. Carlos never hesitated to tell me how he felt when he watched me come undone and he never made me question the honesty in his words.

We spent a beautiful wild month that way and then one day Carlos came to the bungalow with a bouquet of purple hyacinths. I knew what was coming. My grandmother also taught me—when a man comes to you with a bouquet, it’s always an apology. Sometimes the man hasn’t even done anything yet…it’s a preemptive apology because even they realize they will eventually do something for which to be sorry. My father always brought home purple hyacinths to my mother when he had something to apologize for.

Turns out, Carlos had a girlfriend. He said things weren’t exactly serious between them before, but I guess she had other plans and was trying to “lock it down.” She was pregnant, and her father would only accept the baby if she married Carlos.

“If it were just her, I would walk away,” he slipped back into Spanish, “pero, es mi bebé.” He touched his heart.

Later that night I booked a flight to Cuba. It was where I would have picked for the honeymoon. This would be the fresh start I needed from everything. No more men, no more romance, just completely focus on myself. Which was easier said than done because Cuba is filled with beautiful people. And my focus was distracted even more when FBI Agent Teresa Sanchez showed up at the hotel I was staying in.

“Katherine Gates?” She flashed her badge.

“Yes, may I help you?”

“I hope so. May I come in?” I shifted on my feet, “or, we can talk somewhere more open—maybe the café downstairs?”

We sat down at a table and Agent Sanchez ordered two Americanos for us.

“What brings you to Cuba, Agent Sanchez?”

She waved her hand, “you can call me Teresa.” I knew she was just trying to make me comfortable. “I’m here regarding your fiancé.”

“Ex-fiancé.” I thanked the waitress and sipped the too hot coffee. “What does he want?” I set down the mug and examined my cuticles.

Teresa eyed me suspiciously and said, “he’s dead.”

I gently placed my hands on the table and looked back at Teresa with wide eyes, “Jesus, Teri, is that how you break the news to all your suspects?”

Teri narrowed her eyes, “who said you were a suspect?”

I shrugged off a grin and leaned back.

Teri crossed her arms, “no suspects, as it turns out. Open and shut—accidental suicide.”

I pouted and cocked my head to the side, “how tragic. Not even wanting to go…but deserving it.”

Teri rolled her eyes, “accidental erotic asphyxiation? That could have been messy, Kat.”

I shrugged, “it wasn’t. It’s amazing how compliant men can be when they think they’re going to get a little…treat. It’s really not my fault he pulled too far forward and the restraining mechanism locked into place. Such a bad accident.”

Teri drug her hands down her face, “remind me never to cross you.”

I leaned forward, “I don’t have to. You also like the little treat you get for being good.”

“How long are you planning on being here?” Teri asked a few hours later, our bodies tangled around each other on the small twin mattress in my hotel room.

I rolled over and handed her the paperwork from the bedside drawer.

“Citizenship?” Teri sat up quickly reading through the documents.

 It’s a complicated and fractured history for my family, but my grandfather was Cuban, my mother through him, and me through her…eventually. My grandfather left my grandmother when my mother was two and returned to Cuba. 

Their story was kind of like mine and Carlos’s. My grandmother was on vacation with her family, you know, before things went South in Cuba, and she met my grandfather. They fell in love, married quickly and along came my mother. My grandfather had a hard time adjusting to America and eventually left. My grandmother refused to talk about him and refused to allow any Spanish in the home. My mom doesn’t remember him, only the other man my grandmother married later.

“I figured now’s as good a time as any.” I wrapped my arms around her middle trying to snuggle back into her warmth. I’ve never been picky when it comes to lovers. I’ve found that women are somehow much more jealous and attached creatures than men, but they’re too beautiful and soft not to want. I was only ever going to marry Jordan because he was a millionaire and I was already plotting his accidental demise. He sped things up on his own thinking he could cheat and I wouldn’t have known. See—woman…jealous creature.

Teri has always been my rock. We grew up together, protected each other, and I knew she liked me for a very long time before I even thought about being with a woman. It was also very convenient that she ended up in law enforcement and has always been in love with me. She’s willing to cover up my dirty deeds so long as I keep the promise of something real alive. One day she may get tired of waiting, but I doubt it’ll be anytime soon. And, I don’t hate her company. I do love her…in my own way.

Teri leaned over and placed the papers no the bedside table, “so, you’re plan is to become a citizen and bank on Cuba never extraditing you to the US?”

“Why would I ever need to be extradited?” She gave me a stern look, “Cuba doesn’t extradite to Mexico, right? I think I read that they don’t like extraditing their own citizens anywhere…”I gently kissed her jawline, then her neck, and slowly made my way down to her belly button.

She shifted under me allowing me to settle between her legs. She sighed as my tongue touched her sensitive skin. Her sighs turned to moans and mostly incoherent mumblings in Spanish, but I caught “te amo,” “mi amor,” and “hermosa.”

We were still kissing later when I asked, “what was that last thing you said?”

She blushed, “te amo, mi reina?” 

I kissed her cheek, “no, that I understood. You were mumbling it into your arm.”

“Oh,” she bit her lip, “debi imaginármelo.”

I nodded and looked into her eyes, “yes, that. What does it mean?”

She looked at me squarely, gently placing her hand on my cheek, “being with you…loving you…I should have known better.”