He’d felt something very similar on the night he’d made love to Emily the first time. He knew he had to tell her the truth—because being intimate with her,without her knowing who he really was...? That was not okay, so hehadto tell her, except he hadn’t, had he?
He hadn’t poured himself a stiff drink that night either, so he wasn’t a total shit-ass loser. Just mostly one.
But now here he was—here they were—sitting in this upscale restaurant with her words still echoing around them both.
Marry me.
He wanted to sayyesmore than anything. He wanted that life and it was right here. It was so close he could reach out and grab it.
If he lied to her forever.
Which he couldn’t do.
Well, he didn’t want to do it rightthismoment, anyway, as the waiter took away the plates from their half-eaten entrees. But all he had to do was wait a half a minute and he’d be ready to climb aboard the lie-to-her-forever bus. He’d been flipping back and forth between the two options ever since they’d been seated at this intimate little table in the corner.
Emily hadn’t had much of an appetite either, tonight. She’d been quiet all throughout their meal because she no doubt thought he was trying to figure out a way to gently tell her,That’s a hard no from me, dawg. Gotta pass on that whole married-to-you thing. Your journey ends here.
Which was the dead last thing he wanted to say.
Although, when he slapped thatHello, my name is Miltname tag onto his shirt,she was going to say those exact words to him.
Maybe.
No, she definitely would.
Goddamnit. How could shenot?
So he just kept vacillating.
Tell her.
Don’t.
That idea that had seemed so solid less than a week ago—to just never, ever,evertell her who he’d been for the first twenty-one years of his life—became even more appealing when he tried to figure out how to start this impossible conversation.
Just say it?So, I’m really Milt Devonshire Junior, but oh, don’t run away because I also really didn’t kill your mother. My father did that. He just framed me for his crime, although at the time that I confessed, I actually believed him because I was that much of a fuck-up.
She’d run away before he could sayrun away.
Hecouldstart with the news that his father had killed her mother before the bigI’m Milt Juniorreveal, but the hard truth was, there was just no way that anything he said to her wouldn’t end up with her running away.
Forever.
Which now made him circle back to the whole lying-to-her-forever thing, which was looking like a far more ideal option as, after saying that she really didn’t want dessert with the heavy subtext ofplease let’s not sit here in awkward silence for another nano-second, Emily escaped to the ladies’ room.
Because on top of everything else, there was the promise he’d made to Emily’s grandfather, Frank Santana, on the day Mick had shown up that second time—the time that Frank hadn’t killed him despite his earlier threat.
And to be clear, this was thesecondpromise he’d made to Frank, since he’d already spectacularly failed to keep his first—which was to stay far away from Emily.
But that second time he’d met with Frank Santana, Mick had again arrived unannounced. Although he had purposelyshowed up in the morning on a school day. He knew if Emily was at home while he tried to talk to Frank, she’d sorely distract them both.
So he’d rung the bell on the Santana’s little house—standing at the very same door where four years earlier Marina had no doubt tied the laces of her running shoes and pulled on a sweatshirt before locking it behind her. For the last time in her about-to-end, too-short life, thanks to Mick’s asshole of a father.
Frank’s face had been an instant thundercloud when he opened the door to see Mick standing there. But Mick was prepared. He had the cashier’s check out of the envelope, and pushed up against the screen door so that Frank couldn’t miss all those many,manyzeroes in the number under the wordsPay to the order of Francis Santana,with a memo note sayingCustodian for Emily Johnson.
“Since you don’t want Emily and your daughter to have to relive Marina’s death in a civil court case, I confronted my father with the evidence I found and I negotiated a settlement with him,” Mick said as quickly as he could, stumbling only a little over the words he’d rehearsed. “This is your share. I had the bank check written in your name, as custodian for Emily because, well, I figured she’d be her mother’s beneficiary, but since she’s underage... See, I thought you could tell her that her mom had a life insurance policy that you didn’t know about until the insurance company contacted you—that it took years for them to find you. That would explain where the money came from without bringing me—or my father—into it.”
The fact that Frank hadn’t slammed the door in his face—or punched through the screen to grab him by the throat and squeeze—was a positive sign. At least it meant that he was listening.
