Page 6 of Frozen Promises

LONELY IN DECEMBER

Elias

Having someone fall out of love with you? That shit hurts.

Catalina’s words replay in my head, driving the dagger further into my heart. The quiver in her lip and the way she choked out the words like they physically pained her fucking broke me. This woman—my woman is hurting because of me. She’s crying because of me.

When the notification saying Catalina was live popped up, I fumbled to open it.

I’m not like my wife; social media might as well be written in code.

It took me way too long to figure out how to even join the Live, and when I finally did, I couldn’t hear a damn thing.

My phone volume was all the way down. Of course it was.

By the time I turned it up, the first thing that hit me wasn’t her words but rather the raw pain in her voice.

I wasn’t ready for that pain. Not even close.

How had I been so fucking ignorant and missed so much?

When she cut the video, it felt like losing her all over again. My finger hovers over her picture, desperate to touch her and have her back in front of me.

As I scroll through her feed, I watch my wife come to life photo after photo, video after video. On the surface, she looks radiant. To everyone else, Catalina is glowing. She’s full of laughter, light, and confidence. A goddess. Untouchable.

But I know better.

I’ve been by her side since we were kids.

We got married fresh out of high school, clinging to each other and a handful of dreams. We didn’t have a dime to our names back then, but we had love.

We believed it could carry us into a better future.

I promised her I’d build a future where she’d never have to struggle again as long as I was around.

I know her better than anyone. And now, I see things everyone else overlooks. They cut deeper than I ever thought they would. I notice every look, every silence, every shift in her breathing.

Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes anymore. There’s a dull, hollow kind of sadness she tries to hide behind perfect angles and filtered light. But it’s haunting the hell out of me.

I’m the one who put it there.

My phone buzzes, lighting up with a call. For a moment, my heart lurches because I think it’s my wife. The fantasy shatters when I see it’s César and disappointment washes over me.

I have half a mind to ignore the call, but he could be calling about work. Old habits die hard. With a curse, I answer and bring the phone up to my ear. “What?”

Laughter echoes on the other end, irritating me more. “Who pissed in your cereal, cabrón?”

“Is there something you need?” I grit out.

“Actually, I called to check on you. I’m glad I did.” César pauses. “I saw the video, man.”

Shame and embarrassment war within me. It’s one thing to have lost my wife and quite another having people know I fucked up.

I shouldn’t be surprised César saw the video.

The man knows and sees everything—a rather annoying quality.

He knows shit no one wants him to know. Considering Catalina spoke for the whole world to hear, I can hardly blame him this time.

I don’t blame her either.

I’m a private person and didn’t know how I’d feel to have our lives out in the open for all to see. I’ve worked too many damn PR nightmares to know this could end badly, but Catalina was adamant that this is what she wanted to do. So, I supported her, but it didn’t make it any fucking easier.

Now I’m sitting alone in this damn house Catalina decorated to look like Christmas exploded all over it. Everything reminds me of her. Hell, everything smells like her, too. It’s agony to feel her around me, but not physically have her. My punishment.

César doesn’t speak, but I hear him breathing. The bastard is waiting for me to speak, but each word feels like a heavy burden I’m not sure I can lift on my own. I sigh, leaning back against the counter and scanning the large, empty house.

“She’s gone, man. She’s really gone.” Saying the words makes it real. How can I fix everyone else’s messes for a living, but I can’t do shit when it comes to my own life? Fate’s a fickle bitch.

“Yeah, she is,” he agrees. César doesn’t bullshit me.

He’s not afraid to speak his mind, even if it’ll piss me off.

We clash like brothers—loud, stubborn, and unafraid to hit where it hurts.

But beneath the arguments and sharp words, there’s a bond just as fierce.

We look out for each other and protect one another like only brothers can.

I don’t expect him to say more, so when he does, my body tenses.

“Listen, I’m not gonna coddle you, Eli. You didn’t just lose her overnight. This didn’t come outta nowhere.”

I bristle as heat rises in my chest. What the fuck does he know?

He might know me better than most—hell, maybe as well as Catalina—but he doesn’t know my marriage.

He doesn’t see the sacrifices I make every damn day to provide for my wife.

“I was working to build something for us. I thought that mattered to her.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to.

César isn’t affected by my tone. He’s worked with as many stubborn clients as I have, so he’s used to people talking to him defensively.

“It did, but being present matters more. Love doesn’t live on paychecks, cabrón.

You were building a future while she was drowning in the present alone.

How many times have I told you to go home?

To stop working so many hours? You’re a damn good lawyer, but you’ve been a shitty husband. ”

My body tenses, preparing for a fight. The urge to punch something and expel the pent-up rage brewing inside me is strong.

It pisses me off more because . . . he’s right.

The fucker said he would not coddle me, and he’s telling me shit I don’t want to hear.

No matter how much I wish it wasn’t, it was the truth.

“I didn’t see it. I thought she was okay,” I reply after the anger and desire to throttle him simmers.

“You didn’t want to see it. There’s a difference.

She gave you signs, Eli. How many dates have you blown off?

What about those trips she was taking for her social media?

You don’t think she would have preferred you to go with her?

You just ignored ’em. Kept pushing everything off, thinking you had time.

Newsflash! You didn’t, and now it’s caught up to you. ”

“Fuck, kick me in the balls why don’t you? When the hell did you become a relationship expert? I don’t remember you locking down a wife.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m keeping my options open. Now, don’t change the subject, fucker. What are you going to do?” he asks.

“I can’t let her leave,” I say automatically. Catalina is mine. She’s mine to love, and I’d be damned if I ever let another man take her from me.

“No shit. So instead of moping around your house, why don’t you do something?

She’s running, so you gotta chase her. Don’t just show up with flowers and a sad face, expecting her to fall into your arms. Fight.

Rebuild what you broke, piece by piece. Listen, show up, and change.

I’m telling you this as a friend and business partner, you need to put her first, not your damn job.

It's a bad look for a prominent attorney to be tangled in a mess he can't fix.”

Damn this man. I know he’s right. César is too fucking smart. He’s always been a romantic. A man who loves love and the women he’s with. Despite his knowledge in this area, I don’t see him securing a wife yet.

I know it’s my bitterness speaking. One thing still troubles me, burning in the back of my mind. “What if it’s too late?”

I imagine César shrugging. “Then at least you go down swinging. At least she knows you finally saw her and you didn’t just let her slip away without a damn fight.

Haven’t you learned that in our line of work?

You fight no matter how many things are stacked against you. You fight, and you fight like hell.

“But,” he adds, “leave that fucking ego and temper at the house. No woman wants that. You go in humble, shut up, and listen. Don’t be an idiot, brother. Get your woman back.” Without another word, the line goes dead.

I sit alone in the quiet, staring at the dim glow of the Christmas tree. Catalina put this one up the day after Halloween because Christmas has always been her favorite holiday.

For the first time since she left last night, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating. It still hurts—God, it hurts—but beneath the ache, something else flickers to life.

César is right. I can’t undo the past, but I can fight for the future. For her.

Of course, finding her would be a breach of trust since I have her phone tracked.

In my line of work, I’ve seen and heard some crazy shit, and I needed to ensure I knew where Catalina always was.

I’ve been tracking her phone for almost five years.

I suspect she knows I do but has never called me out on it.

She can track me, too, but I don’t think she realizes she has that app on her phone.

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I have a direction and a purpose.

No more excuses, no more hiding behind work or good intentions.

If Catalina ever gives me another chance, she’s getting a man who shows up with both feet in and heart first. If that’s the man she needs, then fuck it, that’s the man I’ll become.

I’m coming for you, Catalina. And I’m not letting you slip away from me again.