Page 9 of Please, Forgive Me

I remembered something I’d rather forget. Something that might have happened… or maybe did happen. With Arthur’s mother.

And no matter how hard I tried to bury it, the memory always clawed its way back. A ghost that refused to be exorcised.

I blinked, cutting it off with the same precision I used to kill distractions in business.

“Anything else?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

Work. Fixing problems. That was what I did best.

“No, that’s it. I’ll swing by Saturday afternoon with Theo.” Alexandre rose, slipping back into his usual easy air.

“Perfect.”

“See you.”

He left without waiting for a reply, like he knew the conversation ended the second family entered it.

As the door shut behind him, the tension drained away… but the shadow stayed.

I needed focus. More work. More problems to solve. Systems to repair.

Feelings? I’d leave them for later—if they even existed.

I turned back to my laptop, ignoring the unease still gnawing at me. Work had always been my refuge. And as much as I hated to admit it, I needed it now more than ever.

Maybe more than I needed anything else.

CHAPTER 4

“Happiness is found in the little things, not in grand gestures…”

MARIA GABRIELA

I left work exhausted, and around seven p.m., just as I slid my key into the lock, my favorite crazy neighbor’s voice echoed down the hall:

“You’re late!”

I couldn’t help laughing as I turned to face her: Carolina Ferreira.

A woman even crazier than me.

She was everything at once. Crazy. Stalker. A walking disaster. My psychotropic twin. And honestly, I didn’t even know what that last word really meant, but somehow it fit us perfectly.

“Carol, you stalk me more than I stalk coffee in the morning.” I grinned, and she just rolled her eyes, tossing her hair back with a dramatic flick.

Carolina and I had been in the same business administration program at college. We’d basically stuck to each other like gum under a school desk ever since. And now, years later, she’d ended up as my neighbor.

Sometimes I genuinely thought she might be following me—but always in a joking way. We were inseparable, the kind of friends who talk nonstop and laugh at our own jokes.

She strutted toward me with her usual attitude.

Carol was one of those people you noticed from a distance. Tall from my point of view—she was five-seven to my five-one—dark wavy hair she was always flipping to the side like she was starring in her own soap opera, glowing brown skin, and big expressive eyes forever loaded with an opinion ready to fire at whoever crossed her path.

“Before you say anything, I’m late because it’s called having a job, Carolina. You should try it sometime.” I openedthe door, dropping my bag inside as soon as I stepped in, and she followed right behind me without an invitation, like always. “Or am I missing something about your vaguely mysterious lifestyle?”

“Sweetheart, please,” Carolina said with a mocking laugh. “Somebody has to keep this neighborhood glamorous. And I’m busy with my tireless hunt for a millionaire, so spare me the lectures about work. It doesn’t match my vibe.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes.