The good news is that Carlos is great at organizing things for me because he knows exactly what I like and how I prefer things to be done. That means I can simply give him the instructions and leave him to it, working out all of the actual details so that I don't have to.
I think about Carlos working hard behind the scenes, making all of these plans on my behalf, and I smile to myself. This is the benefit of having worked hard for twenty years without pause. Without distractions. It means that now when I do have someone that I want to spend that time with, I can do it and pay someone else to make the money for me. Once you reach a certain point, wealth just begets wealth. You can step away and leave it in more capable, or in this case less busy, hands.
It's not that I would ever want to leave my business behind. But it's reassuring to know that I can for a short while if I want to. Especially if there are more serious things in mine and Ashley's future.
I think again about the pattering of tiny feet running through the halls of my house, and a tight vise squeezes around my heart. If we can make this work, then the last twenty years will have been worth it and more.
“What are you thinking about?” Ashley asks, glancing at me from her position on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “You’re smiling to yourself.”
“How lucky I am at this moment,” I say, which isn’t precisely a lie. “You’ve never been for tapas, have you?”
“I had a little in Madrid,” Ashley smiles, half-sheepishly.
“Oh.”
“Sorry,” she chuckles. “I’d like to have some with you, though. Real Spanish style.”
“Barcelona style,” I correct her, a smile playing around my lips. “You know, we do things differently here. We’re not the same as the rest of the country.”
“Right,” she says. “Well, we can go out for tapas Barcelona style if you want to.”
“I want to.” I fold up the paper I was glancing over and reach for her hand. “Let’s go out today. We can do a little more shopping.”
“You’ve already bought me so much,” Ashley protests.
“I didn’t say anything about me buying,” I tease her. “You can get the last souvenirs, presents for people back home. Yes?”
“Sure,” Ashley says, laughing at her own assumption. “I’ll just put on some makeup, and we’ll go.”
“But you’re so beautiful already,” I tell her. “We can just go now.”
“And the makeup isn’t for you,” she says, smiling knowingly. “It’s for me. I won’t be long.”
When she emerges, looking even more stunning with a cat’s eye flick on each eye and her hair tucked back neatly, I’m impatient to get going. It feels as though we have so little time. In fact, it doesn't just feel that way - it's the truth.
And I'm so impatient to not waste a single moment that I can barely contain myself for a moment’s delay.
I take Ashley out to some of the nicer streets of Barcelona, showing her some more of the tourist attractions that she should have been spending this time looking at. Mind you, I'm not complaining that she chose to spend it with me instead. And after a quick seafood lunch, a lot more shopping and sightseeing, and a few long hours spent in the city center, it's time to get some food again.
In Spain, we don't usually eat food until much later than people in the States do. It's a little bit confusing for those who come to visit us because every restaurant is only full of tourists like them. But I know how to show Ashley the real nightlife. Naturally, I'm not going to just take her to any old tapas bar. Nor is this going to be a raucous tapas crawl in which we end up getting drunk and doing something that we regret in the morning. No, I will give her the classy version of a Barcelona tapas bar.
The best bar in town, in fact, which I know because I've been there before. It's one of my favorite spots in the entire city, and I can't believe I haven't brought her here yet.
The wait staff recognizing me immediately and shepherds us to a free spot. I'm fairly sure, of course, that it wasn't free until we arrived. It was probably reserved for another customer, who is now going to be told that there was a double booking or that they have to wait a little longer than expected for their table. I’m not going to complain about that. Maybe I would under normal circumstances, but tonight is about Ashley. About giving her the best, as it is every single night with her.
Because of her lack of experience, I make the decision to order all of the tapas myself, rattling off a series of names from the menu so that the waiter can take it down and bring us what we need. Ashley looks absolutely enchanting, wearing a deep blue dress that I purchased for her. It sets off her eyes, makes her look more mature than her years. I suppose she is more mature than most girls her age. That's probably why we are able to get on so well. She has a good head on her shoulders, and given that she aspires to motherhood more than any other profession, it makes sense that she would be sensible and responsible.