"It came through yesterday. Full pardon from the governor. My record is wiped clean."
Rosa stares at the paper. Her hands are shaking.
"Mijo," she whispers, and that's not the right word—she's my little sister, not my mother—but it's whatabuelaused to call me, and hearing it from Rosa makes my throat tight.
"It's real," I say. "It's done. I'm not a felon anymore."
She's out of her chair before I can brace for it, throwing her arms around me so hard she nearly knocks me over. She's crying. The ugly crying, the kind she'd kill me for witnessing and I hold her and let her.
"I'm sorry," she's saying into my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I never meant for you to. you gave up everything for me, and I—"
"Hey." I pull back, grip her shoulders. "Look at me."
She does. Mascara running, nose red, still the most important person in my life after Diamond.
"I'd do it again," I tell her. "A hundred times. A thousand. You're my sister. That's never going to change."
"But you went toprison!"
"And I got out. And I built a life. And now I've got a pardon and a business and a wife who's way too hot for me." I glance atDiamond, who's crying too, the traitor. "I'm not sorry, Rosa. Not for any of it. So stop apologizing."
She laughs, wet and broken. "You're such an asshole."
"I know."
She hugs me again, tighter this time. Over her shoulder, I see Miguel wiping his eyes and pretending he isn't. Sofia looks confused. Jose is eating his rice and ignoring all of us.
When Rosa finally lets go, she turns to Diamond.
"You knew about this?"
"Since yesterday. He wanted to tell you himself."
Rosa pulls her into a hug too. "Thank you for making him happy. I didn't think anyone could."
"He makes it easy," Diamond says.
"I absolutely do not." I admit.
They're both laughing now, and I roll my eyes, and Miguel hands me another beer, and this is it. This is what I spent eight years dreaming about in a concrete cell. Not the pardon, not the business, not even Diamond.
This. Family. Belonging. A place where I'm not just tolerated, but wanted.
"Okay." Rosa wipes her face, takes a breath. "Okay. We're celebrating. Miguel, get the good tequila."
"We have good tequila?"
"The bottle I hide from you. Top shelf, behind the flour."
He goes. The kids start chantingtequila, tequilauntil Rosa threatens to make them do dishes. Diamond slides her hand into mine under the table.
"You okay?" she murmurs.
"Yeah." I lift her hand, kiss her knuckles. "I'm good."
"You're crying a little."
"Allergies."
