When I saw him, I stopped breathing.

Carlos stood by the tall windows overlooking the water, the afternoon sun outlining his frame in pale gold. He wasn’t in a suit this time. His tie was gone, his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top button undone, and his hair slightly disheveled. He looked nothing like the composed man I’d seen in boardrooms or at charity dinners. He looked real. Human. Tired.

For a moment, I just watched him. The way he stood—one hand in his pocket, shoulders ...