Regret?

Regret?
Carrie
Three days later, we left the hotel and headed for our home, the modern bungalow that I couldn't help but admire.
But as Alessandro drove to our destination, I noticed that he was quiet in a way that suggested that he was already swimming in regret.
I considered reaching for his hand to assure him that I was willing to listen to him, but it would be unwise to become a distraction while he’s driving.
So, I postponed my thoughts.
“Carrie?”
“Yes, Alessandro? Hmm.” I shook my head as though I just said something forbidden. “That’s wrong. Yes, my husband?”
Alessandro could not hold back his loud laughter. It erupted in a way that instantly made my heart fly with joy.
“Why is that so good to hear?” he asked.
“Because it’s the truth.” I lovingly plastered my left hand to his face. “We are married. I am your wife, and you are my husband.”
His affection-filled eyes raked my body, and I felt my cheeks flush; I almost bit into my lip to hide the lust that took over me.
Then, he said, “I love it when you are cute.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” I muttered to myself.
“When’s the next doctor’s appointment?”
“Next week.”
“Let’s buy the materials for the nursery before that day. The earlier the better.”
“I already worked on the material's list and cost analysis,” I replied, my mind pulling up what I want it to look like.
“Wow, you work fast.”
“It's my company's first project,” I mused. “I have to impress my investor.”
“Is it possible for your investor to also be a part-time intern who knows little about the job?”
I laughed. “Are you sure that isn’t an excuse for a roleplay?”
“It can be both work and an excuse for roleplay.” He flashed another seductive stare. “Your titties covered in paint… that will be a work of art I must never miss.”
My laugh turned louder; it scared a bird trying to race our car.
“You are so silly.”
“Oh, I am very serious.” He winked, and I blushed harder.
“I’ll look forward to it. Mixing work with roleplay… It does sound intriguing.”
“It’s a date.”
“But…” My lips scrunched into a pout, and I leaned closer to play with the hair on his right arm. “What about today?” I purposely turned my voice sultry. “What are we going to do today?”
“You naughty, naughty woman.” He winked again, and I giggled. “Don’t worry, my dear wife, I have very good plans for you. Oh, wait.” He shook his head, and his eyes narrowed with glee. “That’s wrong. The plans I have are hardly good…” His eyes peeled off the road ahead for some seconds. “They are wicked. Very… Very wicked.”
“Wickedly good?”
“They are wickedly good.”
“Oh…” My giggling became worse; I could not stop because his rousing words tickled my soul. “I can’t wait, Alessandro.”
“Here…” He offered me the arm I was playing with. “Hold my hand.”
I did as he asked and relaxed into my seat.
The ride advanced, and my ears leaned towards the calm music playing while my eyes roamed here and there until I decided to study Alessandro’s hand.
It was then that I noticed what the tattoos on his knuckles were.
“F.I.O.R.E.” I read the letters out. I looked up at him. “What does this mean?”
“Flower. Because you are my flower.”
“You know…” I exhaled. “I am a little sceptical about the flower thing.”
“Why?”
“Flowers wither after a while.”
“But you know you are my flower because we met in a bar named Flower of Venice.”
“So… this kind of flower won’t wither?”
“Even if it does, the many memories created because of it will keep it alive.”
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Does that assure you, my flower?”
“It does.”
“That’s good. Here we are.”
The car came to a halt.
While I admired our home once again, Alessandro captured my other hand and stared at the two as they stayed seated in his large palms.
“Don’t let go of my hand,” he said when he sensed me pulling away.
“How will I release the seat belt?”
A little pause, and he said, “You have a point,” and let go of my hand.
I did what I wished, but he quickly held my left hand before I could open the door.
“Let go of my hand, Alessandro.”
“Why?” he acted innocent.
“I have to get down. And…” I looked ahead. “... what are those boxes in front of the house?”
“Paperwork.”
“Paperwork?” There were many boxes stacked by the entrance. “That’s a lot of paperwork. Don't you digitalise?”
“I’m quite old school. And they are paperwork concerning CDP and the company.”
“The architecture firm? Aren’t you the sole owner?”
“I am. I plan to catch up on the things I’ve missed and trace every bit of connection CDP has with the company.”
“You’ve missed almost twenty boxes of work?”
“You don’t seem pleased.”
“If you are planning to overwork yourself to avoid thinking about the decision you recently made, I won’t be pleased.”
His expression turned a little unfriendly. “I don’t want you to talk about that.”
“You need to, Alessandro. You need to talk about it.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I almost scoffed. “Alessandro, CDP was your life for many, many years. Are you trying to tell me that you are okay with walking away from everything you worked your whole life for?”
His eyes wrinkled with slight dejection that swiftly changed to disapproval at my words. “I made a decision, Carrie. And I intend to stick to it. Can you please respect that?”
“I will start to respect it if you choose to speak the truth from now on.”
“What truth?”
I sighed.
He is not ready to even admit that he is bothered by the choice he made; he is not aware that he is heading for the brink of regret.
What’s the use of trying to get to someone who is not ready to acknowledge the way he truly feels about something?
I'll wait till he's ready to truly talk.
“Let’s stop for now,” I said, my hand untangling from his. “We should go in, I’m famished.”
“Carrie…”
“Let’s go in,” was all I said. I got out of the car, and I didn’t look back even after I walked into the house.
I know I am being ridiculous, after all, he made the choice partly because of me.
But something familiar to guilt keeps eating at my chest. I really don't want to think that I'm the reason Alessandro might not get what he truly wants.
I don’t think I can live with that truth.
~~~
An hour later, Alessandro and I were sitting face to face, and silence ruled between us. That and the aroma of the Chinese meal we ordered.
When I could no longer ignore the hunger signal my baby was sending, I reached for one of the bags and took out a pack.
As I slurped the noodles and satisfied my hunger, Alessandro focused his gaze on me.
Seconds later, he cleared his throat.
“Carrie…” Our eyes met. “I know you are concerned about me. I appreciate it. But…”
I set the cup down.
“But?” I asked.
“I don’t regret it.”
“You don’t?”
“I understand why you'd think I'm lying. But I’m truly not regretting it.”
I sighed. “So, how do you feel?”
He buried his face in his hands for a few seconds. “Carrie…” His voice boomed from that enclosure before it vanished. “I feel… confused.”