“You love her,mijo?”
“Yes, Papi. More than anything.”
He doesn’t look up from the step.
“That was fast,” he mutters, glancing up to read my expression.
I shrug. “Feels like I’ve been trying to win her forever.”
One bushy gray eyebrow bows like a caterpillar. He looks down again. “I thought she was toying with you.” He toes the bullnosing of the bottom stair with the tip of his black shoe.“MamiandAbuelitatold me I was wrong.”
“You were.”
His shoulders rise and fall. “Maybe I didn’t want to watch someone else toy with you. Ronni did it for too long.”
I jolt at his words. I never told my parents why Ronni and I broke up. Looks like I didn’t need to.
“Millie is nothing like Ronni.”
Papi nods.“Si.”I’ve never heard my father apologize for anything, so I get a second jolt when he says, “I was wrong about her.”
I want to thank him, but sensing he has more to say, I stay quiet.
He raises his eyes to mine, and suddenly my father looks older than I’ve ever seen him. “A lot of things haven’t gone the way I wanted them to go, Luca.”
My heart squeezes painfully. “I know that, Papi.”
He shakes his head. “You know it, but you don’t know it. The whole time you were growing up, I couldn’t be here. When I finally made it back into this country, you were nearly a man.”
The squeezing moves to my throat.
“I started my own business—not only because I knew construction—but so I could have it for you.” His hand grips the banister, and I know it’s not just for balance. “To one day give it to you and Alejandro, sure. But first—and for years—to work beside you. To get back some of the time I lost.”
Somehow, I always knew this. Sensed it in the way he talked about the business—even before I was old enough to work there. But he has never come out and said it like this. And it kills.
“Papi—”
“Ehhh,” Papi grunts, waving off any sentiment. “We had a few years, right? Before all of this,” he says, gesturing to his bad leg. The one he’s still lucky to have. The one he may not be so lucky to have in a year or two.
He turns his hand up in a gesture of acceptance. Acceptance of a fate that could deal him such a shitty hand. “So maybe now you understand.”
“I do.” I understand why it’s been so hard on him. Why he’s been so hard on me. I think I always understood, but hearing it from him takes away the sting I’ve felt these last few months.
I reach over and grip him on the shoulder. Mami hugs everyone. Total strangers. She hugged Millie the moment she met her. For Papi, hugs between men are for when he hasn’t seen someone in years. Like if they’ve been in Louisiana and you’ve been in Chihuahua.
But he didn’t raise me. Mami did.
So I lean in and hug my father.
He lets me. I haven’t been this close to him in years. He feels smaller than he did the last time. I try to remember when the last time was. Graduation? But before I do, he’s slapping me on the back, a movement I match, to let him know I’ve gotten the signal that it’s time for the hug to end.
Papi pulls back, looking embarrassed, teetering as he tries to pace on his bad leg. He clears his throat as though the raw sound of it could clear the air, bring us out of this awkward moment.
He frowns at me but does it while smiling. “So.” He coughs and then blinks. “I might have a grandchild?”
My smile erupts. “We’ll have to wait and see, Papi.” Then I drop my voice. “But we might not have to wait long.”
His expression doesn’t change, but a light sparkles in his eyes.
