I notice Mateo visibly stiffening in his chair. Anger radiates off him, and I can understand that. “But she didn’t care about that life for me?” He slams his fist on our uncle’s desk.
“Let me be clear. We discovered Mr. Martinez wanted to trap your mother because of her family ties. He realized she was the daughter of a major mafia player in the Gulf Coast area, and he wanted to tie himself to the family through an heir. That was why he could never know about you.”
I turn to look at Mateo and my uncle. I understand his reaction. He has a lot of anger, and things are undoubtedly unfair. He never had the chance to meet his mom and have the family he deserved. In fact, when we were there in Mexico with our mother, Mateo wasn’t. He was sent off to boarding school, and now we know why.
“So why was I sent off?” he spews, but I already know. “Was it because they didn’t want me around when her new family was here?” The anger is palpable, and I recoil at the viciousness his words yield.
My uncle is quick to reply. “No, it’s more than that, Sobrino.” His eyes soften, and this is the first time he has referred to Mateo as his nephew.
I almost choke out a sob and try to rein it in, looking away from my brother. His expression would gut me. I see from my peripheral vision as Mateo’s head drops, and I know that he realizes as much as I do that there is something broken in my uncle’s voice that is more like regret and sadness.
“I don’t remember her being here,” Mateo admits. His voice cracks, and I almost want to cry for the little boy that wasn’t with his real family. “I remember you and Adrian, but I don’t know them.” He looks over at me, and sadness stretches between us. Iglance up to meet his eyes—a bridge of tears that brings us closer to understanding the truth of what happened all those years ago.
“We left and went on trips. You always loved the beach.” He smiles, remembering all of it as his memories wash over him in nostalgic waves. He pauses. “As the girls got bigger and my wife passed, I couldn’t handle it anymore. Grandpops passed away, and my mother had suffered from dementia for years and was in an assisted living facility with round-the-clock care. Her memories were stolen from her, and she didn’t even know who we were.”
Adrian stands up and pours us all another glass of scotch. Tió empties his glass’s remaining contents and holds it out to his son for a refill.
“I decided to send you off to school so that you could have a better education. Then, when your mother cut off ties with us, we brought you back and made you part of the organization—a soldier—in case we needed you to take a stand.
“Mr. Martinez might have suspected you could be alive, but he never saw any indication that the rumors were true, until he recently had everything confirmed with his own eyes.”
I look at my brother in panic, and he stares back at me, the same emotions flaring to life.
“Emma was falling down the same path with Eduardo, and I think your mom overreacted and never returned to Mexico. Eduardo’s family is heavily involved in the mafia, and she wanted a different life for her kids.”
“Well, that worked out well, clearly.” I point around us.”You know what they say about the ‘best-laid plan’ and all.”
“It might have been. Except Eduardo was always in love with Emma. That time the kid returned the following year, and he left heartbroken. A shell of himself. I had to tell him to respect your mother’s wishes. But who knew that history would repeat itselfand Julian would get his claws into Emma.” He pauses, looking around at us.
“This is so fucked up.” I stand up and walk around the office. Mateo is still sitting there, until he finally speaks.
“Does Julian really need Emma now that I am alive and have a real connection to him and this family? The bond that ties us all?”
Uncle Andrés finishes the rest of his drink and stands. “Now that, my nephew, is the real question, and more importantly, what happens now?”
Chapter Seventeen
JAMESON
“Just Pretend” by Bad Omens
As promised, Evie has kept in touch, and when she returns back from her family business she had to attend to, we will finally make plans to meet up.
There isn’t a day that has passed that we haven’t chatted since she asked me to wait for her and I said I would. Sometimes, I send a quick text about what I think about getting for lunch. Sometimes, she texts me with a food recommendation about what Ishouldget for lunch. I like learning about all of her interests. I long for the day that we will get to meet for lunch, and we can order together.
Theo and Eric think I am nuts waiting for a girl for months without physically touching her. I think back to the times that I did and our connection with each other. You can’t fake that type of chemistry; the physical attraction is off the charts. If I had to wait an eternity for this girl, I would. Nothing has felt more right.
Today, she sent something that surprised me. She snapped a picture of two people holding hands. I don’t know who they were because the image was not meant to show their faces but what they represent. It displays their backs, as if she discreetly took aprivate moment from them from behind and sent it over to me. The text under the caption read:‘I can’t wait until this is us.’
I stop and look at it, wondering what she is implying. Is it the couple? Us being a couple out in the open for everyone to witness. Is it me holding her hand casually? Or is it something deeper? Whatever her reasons, I will make sure that it becomes a reality. I want to be the person who helps her achieve all her dreams and be the partner she trusts completely. I think we both need that more than anything.
I know the girl has her secrets, and that they had to be the reason why she sought control over everything, especially in the bedroom, which I didn’t mind too much. Despite that, I am bewildered as to why this can’t be us now.
For a brief moment, I wonder if maybe she is secretly married to someone else or in a relationship, stringing me along, but there is nothing that makes me question this chemistry between us.
When I looked into her eyes that she hid behind that mask, as she rode me from above, my hands held back with a tie; I almost felt like I had seen her before. It was powerful, and it was raw. The emotions she carefully hid behind her mask showed me a person who wanted to be held. To be cared for. And most of all, to be free of fear so that we could live out the rest of our lives without this invisible weight she carries.
How we would get to that point, since she wouldn’t let me even touch her, was beyond me, but that night at my house, something changed.
