A Glimpse into the Past
The next day, I wake up and notice that my husband is not in bed with me, which is no surprise at this point. He probably went to his games in the early hours and stayed up all night. I look at the clock and then decide to get ready in the bedroom. After about twenty minutes, I am already walking towards the kitchen, wearing my wine-colored dress and black stilettos.
I pass through the living room and find my children on the rug with their toys. I give each of them a kiss and then head to the kitchen, where I find Carlos looking like he hasn't slept at all, finishing my toast. He smiles at me and serves a generous mug of coffee for me and another for himself.
"Madame," my husband says, placing the mug and the toast on the counter. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you," I reply, eating my toast while being observed by my husband from head to toe. I raise an eyebrow, looking at him. "What's the matter?"
"What's the matter, I ask," my husband says, taking his coffee mug and admiring me. "You look stunning today. Are you sure you're going to work?"
"I am, yes," I reply with a laugh.
"Wow, this outfit reminds me of when we used to have our little escapades during lunchtime," my husband says, leaving the kitchen and stopping next to me. "Remember when I booked a special appointment in this apartment?"
"Impossible to forget, after all, we have a beautiful baby crawling in the living room," I say.
"You know, I think we should go back to doing those things. I miss it," Carlos comments. He touches my hair and then slides his hand down my neck, pulling my head towards him and kissing me. His other hand squeezes my butt, making our groins touch, and I can feel how hard and excited he is, but only him. I pull away again and smile at him, and he says with a hint of frustration, "What's the problem now?"
"I need to go to work," I reply, wiping my lipstick from my husband's lips.
"That was never a problem for you before," my husband argues.
"Yes, but before I used to drive to work," I retort, receiving a tap on my butt as I walk towards the exit. "See you later."
"See you," my husband says, standing in the hallway.
***
I arrive at the real estate agency, and the same lack of enthusiasm hits the girls. I sit at my desk, join my hands, and pray for my day. It's strange because I've never been very religious, but at that moment, I needed divine help.
"Dália!" Suarez calls, approaching my desk. "You're late, huh?"
"Sorry, Suarez, but I'm coming by subway, and..."
"Okay, okay. Look, there's a client who wants to see properties starting from 15 million in any area of Barcelona," Suarez begins to say.
"That's great," I say, looking at the girls. "I can partner with the girls and..."
"No, he specifically asked for you," Suarez interrupts. "Since you were late, I've already set up a viewing for him in Pedralbes."
"Pedralbes is too far from here," I argue, shocked. Of all days, this had to happen when I don't have a car. "I'm without a car..."
"Take mine, friend," Rúbia says, throwing her keys in my direction.
"Go on, hurry up, because he's probably already at the property," Suarez says.
I grab my things quickly, and within seconds, I'm driving towards the Pedralbes area, famous for its exquisite mansions and Antoni Gaudí's ornate Güell Pavilions at the entrance of the formal gardens of Pedralbes.
I drive hoping that I can sell that magnificent property of over 1400m², as it's a miracle to find someone with such incredible purchasing power to buy a 20 million euro house.
I park the car and rush through the French-style gardens, something I always make a point of emphasizing. I stop in front of the house's door and then compose myself. That's when I notice the huge wooden door opening...
"Hello, Doce."
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