Mom's jaw actually drops. Like, cartoonishly drops. “Beckham? Your father's?—”
“Enemy, yeah,” I finish for her. “That's the one.”
“Holy shit,” Mom whispers, then immediately claps her hand over her mouth.
My grandmother, meanwhile, starts cackling like I've just told the funniest joke in the world. “Dios mío! A Kingston!” She's practically wheezing now. “Vegas are always drawn to the forbidden, aren't we? Your father married the college dean's daughter—” she points at my mom, “—and now you're with his biggest rival!”
“Abuela!” I hiss, though I can't help the smile tugging at my lips.
“Javier's blood pressure is going to skyrocket!” She's still laughing, wiping tears from her eyes. “They'll hear his screams in Mexico!”
Mom leans against the counter, processing. “How long has this been going on?”
“It just…happened,” I admit.
“These things don't just happen, mija,” Abuela says, finally getting her laughter under control. “Chemistry like that builds until it explodes. Like Mentos in Diet Coke.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, but she's not wrong.
Mom's brow furrows. “Is he…good to you?” The protective edge in her voice makes my heart clench.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “Better than good. He's...” I search for words that won't make my motherdisown me. “He respects me. Sees me. Not as Dad's daughter, but as me.”
Mom's expression softens. “And you love him?”
“I think I do.” I swallow hard. “I know it's crazy and Dad will lose his shit, but?—”
“I will lose my shit about what?”
The kitchen door swings open, and there's my father, filling the doorframe with his broad shoulders and thunderous expression. All three of us freeze like teenagers caught with vodka in their water bottles.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My dad's eyes narrow as he looks between us. “What are you three plotting in here?”
Abuela and Mom exchange a look before both turn to me. My grandmother’s hand finds my shoulder, squeezing gently.
“If you want to tell him now, it's okay,” she says softly. “And if you don't, that's also okay.”
I could cry from the understanding in her eyes. My mom slides closer, taking my hand and squeezing it.
“It's okay, honey,” she whispers. “We're right here.”
My dad's confusion is morphing into suspicion. “Tell me what? What the hell is going on?”
I take a deep breath, knowing this moment was inevitable from the first time I felt Beckham's lips on mine. The secret was always going to come out. Maybe it's better this way—ripping off the Band-Aid surrounded by the women who love me most.
“Dad, my boyfriend,” My voice comes out steadier than I expected. “I'm dating Beckham Kingston.”
For two heartbeats, there's complete silence. Then, myfather's face transforms through a series of expressions—confusion, disbelief, and finally volcanic rage.
“BECKHAM KINGSTON?” His voice booms through the kitchen, probably rattling the Christmas ornaments in the next room. “Are you fucking kidding me, Hennessy? I told him to stay the fuck away from you years ago!”
“Dad—”
“How long has this been going on?” He's pacing now, running his hands through his hair. “That manipulative son of a bitch. I knew he was low, but going after my daughter? I'll fucking kill him.”
Abuela tries to interject, but Dad's on a roll.
