“No! Don’t do that!” I shake out my sore knuckles and lunge forward, jabbing at the emergency button, bringing the elevator to a sudden halt.
Ana’s eyes widen. “Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands in surrender, like I’m holding her hostage at gunpoint. In some ways I am, minus the gun. But I need this moment to calm the fuck down. Bad timing on my part. Hers too. If I could only pull myself together then?—
Umph. She plops down beside me and places a shaky hand on my forearm. I feel her anxiety vibrating through every single layer of my skin. “Listen, Mr. J. I’m used to the gay drama—really, I am—but this… this… this…”
Jesus. What have I done?
I lift my eyes to hers and wince when brilliant green ones stare back at me.Just like her mother’s. How thehelldid I ever not see the similarities? Probably because I was never looking. But now that I am…Jeesus.
“It’s okay, Mr. J. We’ll figure this out. What can I do to help you?”
You’re already helping, I want to say. With her calm demeanor and the way she so quickly composed herself, she’s managed to knock me down a notch and quiet my unease. She definitely did not inherit that coolheaded gene from me. I’m anything but cool.
Her other hand skates smoothly across her thigh, and I place my non-injured hand on top of hers.
Smiling, she drops her gaze down to our hands before slowly turning hers over, slipping her palm out from underneath mine, as if showing one’s cards.
The puzzle piece.
My breath catches. I contemplate counting to eleven, but I can’t remember how to count. Plus, I don’t want to scare her more than I already have. So I continue to stare instead.
“Papi’s fascinated with it.”
My eyes dart up to hers.
One one thousand, two one thousand… “I, um, can see why.” Three one thousand, four…
As I count, I drag my fingertips across the center of her palm. I can’t believe what I’m seeing—the missing link to my puzzle. Never would I have imagined this girl would be holding the piece to complete the puzzle. And not only does the puzzle piece belong to me… but so does she.
Fucking Meera.
Ana closes her hand around my fingers, still tracing her birthmark. She smiles and nods. “You okay there?”
Five one thousand, six one thousand… “Yes.” I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, forgetting all about my counting as I remove my fingers from her grip. “I, um… I’m sorry I scared you, sweetheart. Do you mind if we just sit here for a moment? Maybe talk? I just need to… t-take in some fresh air.”
“Pretty sure the air is fresher outside this box. But, hey, it’s cool, Mr. J. I can totally chill in here with you. So, what should we talk about?”
Good question. I know what I want to say, just have no clue how to execute it. As I think about how to construct a sentence, Ana silences her phone and drops it into her lap.
“Do you ever think about your parents?” I blurt out, then hold my breath.
“Sure. All the time. Why do you ask?” She shakes a mint out from the plastic dispenser she pulled from her pocket, pops it in her mouth, and then offers one to me.
I shake my head. “Just curious. What can you tell me about them?”
Ana snorts—loudly. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I’m always serious.” I chuckle, but it sounds a little manic.
“Right.” She sits up straighter, dusting the dirt off her palms. “Okay. Well, let’s see. They’re gay…obviously. And Papi can be a real drama queen at times. Actually, more like all the time. Dad says?—”
“Ana, sweetheart.” I place my hand on her knee. “I’m not talking about them.”
“Oh. But… you asked about my parents?”
“Yeah. I guess I did. But what I meant is your biological parents. Do you know anything about yourrealparents?”
Her eyes widen, and I shrink back, afraid I’ve overstepped. “Oh my god. Is this about Emilee? Is she adopted too? It’s funny, cause people tell us all the time that we look alike. I totally don’t see it, but?—”
