With no one in my immediate work vicinity the wiser as to Miguel's whereabouts, that left me with one chance and one chance only.

And that was to call his sister, Charlie.

I remembered that double date brunch we had, where Charlie officially hired me to design and make her wedding dress. We'd exchanged phone numbers for the first time in our lives then, which had been kinda weird considering we were the same age and went to the same high school. But it had felt momentous, like I was joining an exclusive circle I'd only ever been peripheral to. And then I'd gone and blown it in a fit of anger.

I was probably persona non grata to her now, but if I could get Miss Porcupine to understand that I was aware and absolutely regretful of having let the man of my dreams walk out of my life like the dumbfuck I was, maybe she could help me find him. And then it'd be up to me and my ability to grovel.

That was something I'd never really exercised. Maybe it was a result of my privileged upbringing, I either expected things to go smoothly or to have to work for them. It was hard to conceive of occasions where neither could happen, but I'd never wanted something as much as to resort to begging.

And I was willing to beg Miguel for forgiveness, for another chance, because what I felt for him deserved that and more. It deserved a leap of faith on him, for me to stop doubting that this was right and trust that his feelings ran just as deep as mine.

My hands were clammy as I dialed Charlie's number. I was sitting in my car in Tropicana's parking lot and my head swam with Angela's parting words. It was as if she fully expected that Miguel's vacation was going to be unforeseeably long. As the phone rang, I wondered how much I could charge on my credit card. If Miguel was still somewhere in the continent I could probably afford to visit him, if not...

"What?" Charlie answered as soon as she picked up, and I stammered upon nonsensical syllables like the smart, sophisticated and confident woman I was.

"Um, hi," I finally said.

She sighed.

"Look," she started, with a snap in her voice that told me she definitely knew what was going on. "I gave you the courtesy of picking up because I'm coincidentally on break from my shift for a few minutes and I thought, what the hell, let's hear what the girl who broke my brother's heart has to say. But really, when it boils down to it I can just hang up any second."

"No! Please," I begged, already warming up to the task. "I just need to know where he is so that I can go tell him what an absolute, stinking moron I am."

"You don't need to go through all that trouble, I've already told him plenty of times," she said. At the same time she probably heard shattering glass, which was the sound my heart was making.

I hung my head until it rested on the steering wheel.

"Charlie," I started, but I didn't even know how to argue back. I swallowed thick a couple of times before continuing, "It doesn't matter what I could tell you, if I were you I'd never stop thinking that I don't deserve a second chance but-"

Charlie cut in with, "You're damn right."

"But," I said. "I have to try. I just need... that's all I want."

I didn't mean to cry, but I couldn't help myself. Since the dawn of time, my father had always shown irritation at the fact that someone with his bloodline could be such a crybaby. But that was exactly what I was, even though I was big and tall and had a mean right hook. My heart was so small and tender that it easily got overwhelmed by my emotions and there were many of them coursing through me right at that moment. Anger at Mr. Diapers but mostly at myself. Shame. Regret.

Love.

So much of it that it terrified me.

That was why I had to try. This was the first time I ever felt that emotion and I didn't want it to pass me by forever.

After a few seconds that felt endless, Charlie asked, "And just what do you intend to accomplish by trying?"

"Honestly?" I said, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands. "I'm hoping for a miracle."

She grumbled something that I couldn't understand, but finally said, "I'm a doctor and I pray for miracles a lot, too. Every day I try my best for my patients and even though it's psychiatry and not the E.R., sometimes I know things are out of my hands."

"Is this out of my hands already?" I asked with a tiny voice.

"I don't know that," she said. "Doctors don't know that, but we're definitely the only ones who can try to beat the odds. And even though I really don't want to, I find myself sympathizing with you." I stayed very still and silent, hoping she wouldn't change her mind. "So, like the good doctor I am, I'm going to help give you a chance."

"Thank you-"

"Don't thank me yet. This is the first time I've seen Miguel so hurt since—since we left Venezuela."

A fresh wave of tears came out of that.

That hurt was all my fault.

Charlie sighed. "Bernal Industries is hosting a charity event in Orlando this Friday and Miguel will be in attendance, since he's part of the board. It's a black and white affair with a closed invitation list for la creme de la creme."

"How do I sneak in?" I asked, grasping at straws. "Should I dress up like a waitress or-"

That tore a surprising laugh out of Charlie.

"I like your determination, Addy. But there's no need, I'll handle that part and all you need is to wear your finest outfit." After a pause she said, "And this is it, the only second chance I'll ever give you. If you screw this up you're dead to me and I'll just wear my white robes to my wedding."

A spark of hope lit in me.

"I guess I can't let that happen," I said.

With that, I had a plan.

I had a black gown in the back of my closet I'd been working on for years but had never finished. Black was every fashion designer's best friend but I'd never quite taken into it. I'd always thought the world was so dark and dreary already, that what everybody needed was actually a pop of color. But while I'd never finished it, the notion that one day I might need a gown just like it had made me preserve it since I started working on it in NYC.

Vera and Poonam flanked me as I pulled it out and removed the plastic wrapping around it. It was my version of an Alexander McQueen, a glorious gown made for a gothic princess for the night of her coronation as queen. The bust was shaped like a heart with a plunging neckline. The bodice was cinched around the waist, emphasizing an hourglass shape that I actually didn't have and would have to sacrifice food and drink to get into. It had virtually no back and the skirt billowed out with delicately entwined swaths of organza and brocade that I'd spent a small fortune on.

"Holy shit," Poonam said as she saw this. "Did you really make this?"

"Yes," I said as I laid it down on my bed. "But it's unfinished."

"Looks pretty damn finished from here," Vera said as she munched on some Venezuelan snacks she'd bought at a store earlier. "What's wrong with it?"

I motioned at the bodice. "The beading is only halfway done. I want this dress to shimmer like there's actually light amidst the darkness but I'm not sure it's going to be ready for Friday."

"It's only Wednesday," Poonam said. "How hard can it be to finish it?"

Fortunately, the legal team at Tropicana was still drafting my new contract and I had the rest of the week off. I needed every waking second of the next three days to hand stitch the tiny, delicate black Swarovski beads into the pattern I wanted. I didn't sleep and I poked so many holes in my hands with the needle that it was a wonder I didn't bleed all over the damn thing. Thankfully Vera could stay in town for a few more days, and between her and Poonam they did all they could to keep my alive. Which occasionally meant feeding me through a straw. But by Friday I was driving up to Orlando, hopped up on more caffeine than a human should get.

Using some industry connections, Vera got me access to the most exclusive hair salon in town, where I went from a fading pink hair color to a warm and vibrant ginger that went really well with my nonexistent complexion. It was the kind of color I wish I naturally had, instead of my somewhat reddish blonde. It looked like me, but the enhanced version. The Adele Holt I was finally ready to be rather than the fumbling dumdum with a chip on her shoulders I'd been for years.

It was finally in a cheap hotel room where I finished my makeover. With my freshly made color and hairdo, I did my makeup like Poonam taught me, achieving a look of sophistication and femininity I never would've imagined myself capable of. The dress wrapped around me comfortably and I secured it with fashion tape. Completing my look were strappy sandals and a simple clutch purse that was not going to distract from my gown. I looked at myself in the mirror and color rushed up my throat and settled on my cheeks.

"Damn!" I said, turning this way and that.

I'd never pretend it was my looks what had caught Miguel's attention, or what would ever keep it, but tonight I was hoping they helped my case. I didn't even feel like it'd be a low blow. One look at him, anytime, anywhere, no matter what he wore or didn't, never failed to render me incomprehensible. I was only trying to level the playing field.

I emerged from the room like a queen and bundled all my realness into an Uber. The driver kept looking at me from the rearview mirror but I was thankful he didn't ask any questions. I asked him to drop me off right at the entrance of the event hall, even though he drove a Ford Fiesta and everybody else descended from Bentleys and limousines. Charlie had assured me that I'd be allowed in but my knees were still wobbly as I stood in line for the admission. I caught a glimpse of the invitations, done in black paper and golden letters and damasks, a stark contrast to my empty hands.

The man who expected me to hand him an invite, upon seeing the fact that I lacked one, asked, "Name?"

I cleared my throat. "Adele Holt."

One nod and he motioned me in as though nothing were amiss. I didn't question it and moved along, but inside I was deeply impressed with Charlie.

Quickly I got lost in the sea of glamour and glitz in the event hall. Everybody dressed straight out of a catalogue, all in black and white. A banner said that the reason for the event was for the fight against gun violence. I knew this was something near and dear to the Bernal family and figured that even if I walked out alone and broken tonight, that I was going to make a donation. A modest one, considering the state of my finances, but something was better than nothing.

So far Charlie hadn't led me wrong, but after a solid hour of walking around I couldn't find Miguel. Maybe he wasn't joining after all, or maybe he was just late. I hung out behind a decorative palm, watching people I recognized walk by but none of them were him. I saw the mayor, a couple of TV hosts and I recognized the young journalist who interviewed Casual Friday Funeral when they hit it big for Teen Stars Magazine. I even thought I saw Jessica Ashford among the attendants but the group moved away too fast for me to tell. My legs hurt, but I stood there, waiting all night long if it was necessary, craning my neck to see above the heads of everybody else for the face I was looking for.

I could hardly believe it when I found him. I did a double, triple take. But it really was him, Miguel.

It was almost like a light shone above him or maybe it was just that he'd always appeared brighter to me than everybody else. His presence pulled at my body like it was a magnet and I saw myself, like an out of body experience, glide between the people towards him. One last group made way and when there were no obstacles between us, my heart dropped.

There was a woman holding his arm.

Impossibly beautiful, like only a beauty queen or model could be. Impossibly close to him, like only a lover would dare.

Miguel's eyes met mine at the same time as the spark of hope in me was snuffed. I turned away and suddenly the place was more packed with fancy people than before, even though all I wanted anymore was to make it to the exit.

How quickly I was replaced for a newer, better model. A part of me refused to believe what my eyes had seen but the evidence was there. I remembered Charlie telling me not to thank her yet and I wondered if she'd known. If she'd set me up for her brother's revenge.

A hand at the crook of my arm stopped me. I tried to pull away but he spun me easily. Miguel. His green eyes roamed over me as if he wondered whether I was really there. I didn't say anything, somehow hoping that if I didn't acknowledge him he'd think I was someone else.

But that plan quickly went down the drain when he said, "Addy."

Someone bumped into me from behind and I stumbled. Miguel caught me against him, and even though I tried to tear myself away from him he wouldn't let me.

"Let me go," I said with a lump in my throat, the harbinger of tears.

"Not until you tell me what you're doing here."

He looked at me defiant, as if what I'd just seen was no big deal but he was still entitled to my comings and goings. I tried one more time to free myself, but Miguel wrapped his hands around my waist firmly, not in a vice, but like they belonged there.

I got the hint. Stop struggling, say what I came to say, go my merry way. Running away was my first instinct and that was actually what had led me to this moment. It was what I'd done after Jean Paul did what he did. It was what drove Miguel away—into the arms of another.

I stopped running away. That didn't mean I didn't have a right to be angry.

I took a deep breath and said, "I came to apologize, but I see that it's no longer necessary."

Miguel turned to the gorgeous woman behind him, who was now cozying up to Miguel's father. The picture was weird, almost like the woman was now flirting with the oldest Bernal man.

One corner of Miguel's lips went up. "That's my cousin, Cecilia. Dad's helping her find investors to open her own business."

My jaw dropped.

Amusement danced in his eyes. "Jealous?"

The smack I gave his shoulder was answer enough.

The doll of a woman sauntered over, pouting and firing off Spanish words in rapid fire. I couldn't understand much of it, with my Duolingo capabilities, but she kept saying primo this and primo that. Miguel didn't even glance her way as she tried to pull one of his arms towards her.

"Cecilia," he finally said, glaring at her. "Estoy ocupado, por favor."

With one last sullen look at me, she went back to bother Miguel's dad.

"She's, um, persistent." I lifted my chin. "But you know what? So am I."

Miguel seemed frozen in time, staring intently at me as though I was the toughest riddle known to mankind.

"I'm sorry," I said. Those two words made a torrent of other ones tumble out of my mouth. "I'm sorry that for a second I thought you were the kind of guy who had gone and got a hot new girlfriend to erase me from your life, and I'm even sorrier that I gave you a reason for doing something like that. Because I'm an idiot. Of the most monumental kind. I was just about to let go of the most wonderful thing that's happened in my life—which is you, by the way—because I was so full of anger and shame at something that wasn't even your fault. Although-"

I made a quick pause for a breath, but he didn't interrupt me so I continued, "Although, I guess it was kind of your fault after all."

His eyebrows went up.

"I told you from the beginning that having a relationship would be a bad idea, since we worked together, which was kind of a self fulfilling prophecy. But you just made it impossible for me to resist you." I gave his shoulder another smack. "You being so sweet, and gentle and charming. With your twinkling eyes and the same stupid smile you're wearing on your face right now."

My eyes were tearing up now, but I wasn't finished and I didn't care about my makeup.

"With your never-ending support and your kisses and your hugs. With the way you look at me like I actually look like your cousin."

Miguel made a sour face. "Goodness, no. You're not made of plastic and hairspray. But keep going."

A little laugh escaped my lips then.

"With the way you make me laugh when I least expect it, even when we're making love."

His eyes darkened and he held me tighter against his chest. We were nose to nose now.

My voice lowered to a whisper as I said, "With the way you make me feel like I can be loved despite all my flaws."

That was where he cut in. "Not despite your flaws, but with them and all the things that make you my sunshine. Addy, can't you see? All I've done is love you, through my smiles, my hugs, my kisses. Through every second I've been next to you since I saw you again at college. When you sat next to me in class. When you kissed my cheek after my graduation and for all the years after that, while I wondered if we'd been on the edge of romance and I'd blown my chance into the abyss."

He ran his thumbs across my cheeks, wiping away the trails of tears. Miguel kissed my forehead.

"Did you never wonder why I appeared in your life again?" he asked, smiling at what no doubt was an expression of sheer stupefaction on my face. "I looked for you. After years of trying to forget you and that wrenching little peck on my cheek you gave me, I just had to find you and see if I still had one last chance to be with you."

My knees threatened with giving under me, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me up.

"Is that why you bought Tropicana?"

That made him laugh. "No, I didn't know you were working there. I knew you were in fashion, which was why I was hoping if I bought a small fashion startup in Miami I'd cross paths with you soon enough."

I frowned. "Then, how..."

Miguel smirked. "Page."

He told me the story there. A year ago he decided to leave the Canadian office to look for me. The first person he asked for advice was Page, who told him I'd been living in Miami for a while and that I was definitely in the fashion industry. But she'd given him smoke a mirrors when he asked her where I worked. Instead, she'd cleverly told him about Tropicana as an option for him to buy.

"She said that you were hoping to get a job in Tropicana." Miguel rolled his eyes. "Pitching the whole thing to me as though I'd sweep in like a knight in shining armor, give you the dream job you wanted and that way get in your good graces. I didn't even check your social media to see if any of that was true, I just jumped for it."

"She played up to your weakness," I said.

His eyebrows went up. "Which is?"

"You really are a knight in shining armor." I gave him the same sweet little peck on his cheek that I gave him after his graduation. This time it left a deep red lipstick imprint on his skin. "Except for the fact that you can't save me every time. I have to stumble and fall and learn on my own. I never want to be the kind of woman my father despises. Someone who depends on her man for every and anything."

He cringed. "I'm sorry. I never want you to feel that way."

"And you don't." I sighed and closed my eyes. "That day, after Jean Paul did what he did, I was so afraid everybody at work thought I'd got the project because I was sleeping with you. And that's ridiculous, because I got that project all on my own, and I took out that fear on you." I opened my eyes. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"Done," he said before I could even finish the last word. "If you promise me to be my very non-casual, very steady, very public girlfriend."

My eyes widened and my mouth froze in the shape of an O.

"This seems to come to a shock to you," Miguel said with an easy smile. "But may I remind you what I said earlier. Addy, I love you."

Mind reeling back to the beginnings of the conversation, I wanted to smack myself for somehow having missed something like that.

"You do?" I asked, like an idiot.

But Miguel just nodded. "Yep, and I know for a fact that you love me back. Or you wouldn't even be here right now. Am I right, or am I right?"

I started laughing. And laughing. Even while everybody turned my way and looked at me like I belonged in the loony bin, Miguel just held me in his arms with the confidence of a man who knew what he was talking about.

And he did, in business and love, he did.

Finally I said, "You are absolutely right."

A slow grin spread across Miguel's face. He stepped away and offered me the crook of his arm.

"Then, we don't have a second to waste. I must introduce my new girlfriend to everybody in this place."

I held onto him. At that second, with a full heart in a perfect moment, it didn't cross my mind how short our time could be.

but yes, this ain't over ✨