“Mmm,” I love the suspicion in her tone.
“Here we are. I’ve taken the liberty of asking Priest to call his uncle for the christening. He arrived last night, and the church is ours tonight, if you’re both up to it? You’re probably exhausted.” Willow starts to fuss.
I’m sure she needs a diaper change and to eat.
“I’d love a real bed, thank you. Tonight is fine.” Rosario yawns as she unbuckles the baby and brings her to her chest.
She’s mastered the whole breastfeeding in public thing, but the man in me glares at Lucas, who pretends to be fixing his prosthetic leg.
“New equipment?” He grins as he taps the fake leg.
“State of the art, but the fit isn’t right yet. I have to fix it, or I’ll get a sore. Come on in when you’re ready. I’ll take your bags up.” He jumps out of the SUV, leaving us inside the cool cabin.
“It’s gonna heat up in here quick. Ready to move inside?” She glances at the house and then back at me.
“I feel like I’m about to learn something about my life I didn’t know before, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I love my life the way it is now. I don’t want anything to jeopardize that.” She looks down at our daugther and I understand where she’s coming from.
“There isn’t anything they can possibly tell us that would change our family. If it weren’t important, they wouldn’t bring it up. Let’s hear them out and then get some rest. We’ve got an important night ahead.” I open my door, then hers, to help her out.
We enter the house and find the living room bustling with people. I introduce Rosario and the baby to a few people when Isee Darius approaching us, holding a photo. Next to him was his uncle, Archbishop Oretga.
When Rosario turns his way, the elder man stumbles and clutches his rosary.
“Sofia?”
Chapter Seventeen
Rosario
“No, but she was my mother. Did you know her?” There’s something familiar about him that I can’t place.
His accent is defeienatly cuban. Maybe when I was younger. I’ve been staring at his face that I didn’t see his clothes. The black suit and white collar were just a normal everyday wear for the priest I grew up around.
Then he turns to look at Darius, and I see he’s wearing a Zucchetto, the small, purple skullcap, signifying he’s an archbishop. A memory pops into my head, and I stumble as my mind fills with memories of this man visiting me when I was younger.
“You brought me lollipops.” I step forward, reaching for him.
“Could it really be you?” The man takes my hand in mine.
“Do you know this woman?” Darius shows me a photo almost identical to the one delivered with my christening gown.
“Those are my parents. But I don’t know these men. They aren’t in my photo.” I pull it out of my purse to show them.
“Gracias a Dios.” The archbishop crosses himself and then smiles down at me.
“We’ve been looking for your child.” I frown and look back at Bruno.
“Was I lost?” Daarius chuckles and nods.
“In more ways than one. Sofia Oretga was my sister. You are her daugther meaning,” Darius cuts him off and points at each of us in turn.
“Uncle, niece, cousin. My father and your mother are siblings.” Bruno steps up behind me and groans.
“So you’re aware that her father is Luis, Jose Miguel Battle’s son.” The room erupts in gasps.
“I guess not,” I mutter under my breath at my husband.
“Wait, are you saying that my grandfather started the Latin Kings?” Bruno nods.
