Chapter One- Buddha
I didn’t know what was going on, but all I knew was that my head was about to hurt. I stared at Enzo long and hard, trying to spot any similarities between him and me. Other than his skin tone, which was a dark hue, he didn’t look like me. That doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be mine.
I looked at Catalina and cursed in my head. Seeing her standing here in front of me brought back feelings that I didn’t know still existed. Then, I turned to Dior. I could tell she was in shock, and with the shock, I could also see the hurt in her eyes.
Enzo was indeed the correct age, but I wasn’t about to let myself get caught up in whatever this was.
“Phillipe, it’s been a while,” Catalina said, with a soft smile. I would be lying if I said she didn’t look good as fuck. Catalina hadn’t changed much; she was still a very beautiful woman.
“No shit,” was the only thing I could say. Turning her attention to Dior, she stretched her hand out.
“Hello, I’m Catalina.
“Hello, I’m the wife.” Dior just couldn’t help herself. She accepted Catalina’s hand as they greeted each other.
“Wife?My, my, Buddha, I never thought the day would come when I would hear that you got married, congratulations.” Catalina smiled, and she was beginning to piss me off the way she was avoiding the elephant in the room.
“Enzo, is your father around? I’d love to meet him,” I said, turning my attention to the young man. Just as he was about to answer my question, Catalina grabbed his hand.
“Enzo, honey, why don’t you go into the kitchen and check on the bread in the oven?” Catalina said, facing her son. She gave him a motherly smile and touched his cheek.
“Ok, mamma,” he said obediently, turning around and disappearing into the kitchen.
“I know this is a bit much and probably very confusing,” Catalina began to explain.
“Ya think?” I shoved my hands inside the pockets of my pants, staring straight into her soul. I was pissed as a mothafucka.
“Are you two about to keep standing here making googly eyes at each other? Or is some sort of explanation going to be given?” Dior demanded, folding her arms under her breasts.
“I’m sorry, but this is a conversation that needs to happen between only Phillipe and me.”
“Excuse you?” Dior said, taking a couple of steps forward to get up in Catalina’s face. I grabbed her elbow and pulled her back.
“Aye, relax. Come here, let me talk to you outside,” I said, practically dragging Dior out of the cafe. “Go back to the hotel. Let me speak with her and find out what the fuck is going on.” From the moment Dior heard me say she needed to leave, she snatched her hand out of my reach.
“What the fuck you just say to me?” She asked angrily, her eyes glaring daggers in my head, daring me to repeat what I said. She had one more outburst, talking to me crazy before I snatched her ass up.
“Na, the real question is, who the fuck do you think you’re catching an attitude with. Let me go in there and sort this shitout. As I said, let me call you an Uber, so you can go wait for me back at the hotel,” I kept my tone calm because I knew she was rightfully upset. I took my phone out and did just what I said I would.
“The Uber will be here in three minutes,” I told her, shoving my phone back into my pocket. Dior was looking everywhere but at me, anger etched across her entire face.
“What are you gonna do if he’s yours?” Dior asked eventually, looking me up and down.
“Then he’s mine; there’s nothing I can do,” I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what else I could say. A taxi slowly pulled up and stopped where we stood. I reached for her hand to walk her over, but being the drama queen she was, Dior pulled her hand away.
Opening the door, I waited for her to get in. “I’ll see you in a bit,” I told her, closing the door. Instead of simply agreeing, she lifted her hand and flipped her middle finger at me. My mind was too fucking buzzed to deal with her tantrum. I waited for the car to drive away before I stepped back inside the cafe.
Catalina was waiting for my return. I marched up to her, ready to start some shit.
“You sure are a piece of fucking work,” I eyed her up and down, wanting nothing more than to grab her by her upper arms and shake her ass up.
“Your wife is pretty,” she responded, smiling as though this were some game.
“Don’t fuck around. Is Edwardo, Enzo’s father?” I demanded, staring at her closely.
“What do you think? Do you really believe that if Edwardo was indeed Enzo’s father, he would have shipped my ass off to Italy? Banishing my child and me from ever setting foot in the US. I don’t think so.” The palms of my hands grew sweaty as a mothafucka; this could not be happening to me.
“So you’re trying to tell me Enzo is my son?”
