He had walked to the desk, he had asked for a room.

He had tipped his face down to meet hers.

He had unzipped her dress and watched the fabric slide over her narrow hips.

Jim turned away from the window and let his head drop toward his chest. His eye ached and he wished that the rest of his body was as marked, one giant bruise, because he deserved it.

When she was in high school, Carmen had thought long and hard about her options. There was a boy in her class who loved her, and she loved him, too. They’d lost their virginity to each other in his twin bed, and their mothers were friends who liked to sit together on plastic chairs on the beach. When she was at Miami Dade, there was a guy she met at Starbucks and slept with on and off for the next six months, until it turned out that he had another girlfriend back home in Orlando. There were always lots of guys at every gym she’d ever worked at, eyeing her while she worked out. Miami was an easy place to meet someone if you cared about your body.

Bobby was different. The first time they went out, he told her about his family and New York. He was still in college, but seemed so much younger than when Carmen was his age. She’d been supporting herself since she was sixteen, and at twenty-one, Bobby’s parents still paid his rent, though she didn’t know that yet. What was clear was that he came from somewhere else, a different planet of wants and needs. She loved hearing about his mother—a writer! It sounded like a job from the movies, going around the world and writing about what she ate. Carmen started buying magazines that she thought his mother might be in, and sometimes when Bobby came over to her house, he’d confirm her suspicion, saying, Oh, I think my mother was in that one, and sometimes he’d say, Oh, my mother hates that one—total assholes, and Carmen would pretend that the magazine had been a gift from a client, disowning it quickly.

She tried so hard to get them to like her. She stayed quiet at their dinner parties and smiled blankly when they talked about something she didn’t know anything about. She wore her most conservative clothes and tried not to complain about the cold. But nothing she did ever seemed to be right.

The kitchen was warm—all the blinds were open. If it had been her mother’s apartment in Miami, all the shades would have been closed until just before dusk, but the Posts didn’t seem to mind the house heating up like an oven. She wasn’t going to say anything, it wasn’t her decision.

“Morning,” Bobby said. He’d been sleeping late. Carmen wound her hands around her orange juice. It was the first morning in a year that she hadn’t had a protein shake, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Good morning,” Carmen said. Everyone else seemed to be by the pool, and Sylvia was surely still asleep. The house was theirs alone. “Will you take a walk with me? Just a walk.” He hadn’t been saying much, and neither had she.

“Sure,” Bobby said, staring out the window at his family. He didn’t want to be around them any more than she did. They tugged on their sneakers and were out the door before anyone knew they were gone.

Pigpen was straight down a narrow road—a two-way street only when absolutely necessary, and they walked in single file, Bobby in front. There were all sorts of things like that—lessons Bobby hadn’t learned. Was she supposed to teach him? She’d tried. Walking on the outside in case a car jumped the curb or went through a puddle, letting her pass through doorways first. He didn’t do any of those things. If she’d asked, he would have said something about how they were equals, but really, he’d just never thought about it. Carmen stooped down to pluck a flower, and tucked it behind her ear.

The town was only a few streets long, the cobblestone blocks curling in and around one another in a tight knot. They walked past the small grocery store, and the Italian restaurant, and the bar that sold sandwiches. When they reached the end of the block and rounded the corner, Carmen was just about to open her mouth. Instead, they turned left and then stopped abruptly.

The street ahead of them was filled with people—one man with a guitar, some children throwing things into the air, and a few older women standing around beaming. The cars on the street were stopped, but the stymied drivers didn’t honk their horns or even look impatient. Carmen pulled Bobby closer to the action, and they watched from across the street—at the center of the group, standing outside the doorway of a small building, were a bride and groom. Another man stood just behind them on the steps, making proclamations. Carmen could understand most of what he was saying—This is a joyous day, God has given these two people each other—but it wouldn’t have mattered if the man was speaking Swahili. It was a wedding, in any language. The bride, a plump woman near Carmen’s age if not a bit older, wore a short dress with a lacy bodice, and a wrist corsage. Her new husband wore a gray suit and a tie, his mostly bald head gleaming in the sunlight. They gripped each other’s hands tightly, rocking back from side to side as their friend spoke. The woman let out a peal of laughter, and her husband kissed her on the mouth. The old ladies shook their handkerchiefs in the air, and the children screamed happily, consumed by their own role in the festivities. Carmen felt her stomach pump once, then again, and realized that she was crying.

She reluctantly turned away from the happy scene and toward Bobby. He stood with his arms crossed, an impatient expression on his face.

“Train wreck,” he said. “Did you see the size of her arms? She could use an hour of two of some triceps pull-downs. Like four times a day for the rest of her life.” He chuckled. “Ready?”

Carmen felt as if she’d been slapped. “She looks beautiful.” The bride and her groom were dancing now, in between the stopped cars. She twirled out, then in, out, then in. Each time she came close, her husband kissed her, so clearly thrilled at his own fortune. “You know, I always thought that you’d grow out of this.”

“Of what?” Bobby shook his curls off his forehead.

“Of being afraid.”

Bobby looked confused. “Listen, if this is about something my sister said—”

“I don’t care, Bobby. It’s not about anything your sister said, or didn’t say. It’s about you. I always thought that you would need some time, you know, to grow up, but I think I just realized that it’s never going to happen, not while I’m sitting around waiting for it. I’m gonna go home.”

“You want to walk back?” Bobby started to turn.

“No, you don’t understand,” Carmen said. “Back to Miami. Without you. This is over. I should have done this years ago. Don’t you see how happy they are?” She pointed to the bride and groom, still hugging their families, their smiles stretching their cheeks. It didn’t matter that the bride’s dress was too tight or hadn’t come from Vera Wang—she was happy. She wanted to be with this man for the rest of her life, and he felt just the same way. They had chosen to make the leap and, having leapt, were delighted to find that the world was even more beautiful than they’d hoped. Carmen knew right then that Bobby was never going to marry her. He was never going to leap, at least not with her at his side.

“You’re breaking up with me?” Bobby asked. She couldn’t tell if he looked confused, relieved, or both. There were lines on his forehead, but the corners of his mouth had begun to twitch into a nervous smile. “Right now?”

“Right now, Bobby. And I think you should take a little time off from Total Body Power, too. I’ll make sure your clients are covered. Take a few weeks to figure out what you’re going to do next, okay? You’re not a personal trainer, not really. And the powders don’t work unless you’re a bodybuilder. There’s just too much bullshit, you know?” With that, Carmen spun around and started walking back up the hill. She would call a taxi from the landline and figure out her flight when she got to the airport. She’d never been to mainland Spain—maybe she’d go there. She didn’t turn around to see if Bobby was walking behind her, because it didn’t matter. She would pack up her clothes and leave the powders in the kitchen. She was done.