Page 49 of Jetmir

“First, you’re being paranoid. Second, Anya is an adult.” He had a point there. “And she’s finally rid of that Volkov and Tijuana last name. She has every reason to celebrate."

I winced. Gabriel had his own reasons for hating Jetmir.

“It’s true,” I agreed reluctantly. “Although, Anya hasn’t been the same since. I wish she’d talk to me like she used to.”

Instead, she’d shut herself off from everyone.

“Maybe, but we all need to realize she’s no longer a kid. When she’s ready to talk, she’ll come to us.”

“Gabriel, it’s been three years! What if she… really loved him.”

I came to an abrupt stop, my breathing heavy and my mind whirling like a tornado.

Gabriel stood and slowly made his way to me, his eyes slightly unfocused until he finally took my shoulders and clutched them.

“If Anya felt anything for him, she wouldn’t have agreed to the annulment. She would have spoken up by now. But she hasn’t. And Amara said she hasn’t mentioned him or been taking his calls.”

“What if she’s doing that for us?” I whispered, my heart squeezing. I knew my daughter and deep down I was certain she wasn’t the same happy girl she used to be. She pretended to be, and I waited and waited for her to heal. Maybe to start talking. But something had to give.

“What do you mean… for us?” Gabriel questioned, and I silently cursed myself.

“I meant… It was just…”

“You mean because of my vision?” he asked, his eyebrows meeting his hairline.

I released a long whoosh of breath, and my shoulders slumped. “She’s so protective of you.”

He nodded. “I’ve spoken with Anya on numerous occasions to ensure she knows she owes me nothing.”

“She blames herself," I murmured.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, but I know my daughter.”

“She’s not to blame. I’ve said that multiple times. The blast just happened to occur when she and that fucker of her ex-husband were around.”

“It’s just that she’s been so…” I searched for the right word for a moment. “I see sadness in her eyes even when she’s smiling. She doesn’t seem to get excited about anything anymore.”

“Not even her photography?” Gabriel questioned.

“Not the way she used to. I can’t remember the last time I saw her really happy, mad, or anything. Just this quiet sadness.”

Gabriel reached out for my hand and I took it. He squeezed, and said, “We all know Anya is a Santos through and through, and her Latin roots shine when she’s pissed off.”

A small smile pulled on my lips. “And stubborn as fuck.”

“Anyone I know?” Raphael’s voice reached us and I whirled around, watching my husband of twenty-three years appear in the doorway. I’d known him for so long, yet the mere sight of him still made my stomach flutter. He was still the most dangerously beautiful man alive.

His gaze fell on me, drinking me in, and I couldn’t help a little shudder that rolled down my spine.

“We’re talking about you,” Gabriel drawled, then bent his head to kiss my cheek. I leaned over so he wouldn’t have to struggle. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

He left in a slow but sure step, completely oblivious to Raphael’s lips meeting mine for a deep kiss. I couldn’t help but smile and whisper, “Shouldn’t be inappropriate in front of the kids.”

He pulled away with a little scoff. “I hate to tell you, mi reina. There haven't been any children around for quite a few years.”

I smoothed the wrinkles on his white shirt, then flattened my palm against the rippling muscles of his hard chest.