Page 183 of Ricardo

“I know,” she says quietly. “But he doesn't need you to make excuses for him. He does not need your silence. He needs to know you will still be his father when he is angry, but he also needs to know his father can look him in the eye and tell him he crossed a line.”

“That will not push him away?” I ask before I can stop myself.

The vulnerability in the question irritates me the moment it leaves my mouth.

Julia hears it.

Her face softens, and she steps closer.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “Maybe he’ll stay away for a while. Maybe he’ll get angrier first. But letting him believe you will absorb anything from him because you feel guilty cannot be the answer.”

I sit slowly on the edge of my desk.

The room feels too warm.

My mouth aches. My head aches. My son’s absence aches worst of all.

Julia comes to stand in front of me.

For a moment, she only looks at me.

Then she reaches up and touches the uninjured side of my face.

I let her.

“You do not have to turn yourself into a villain for Dante to love you,” she says, her thumb brushing lightly against my cheek.

I look at her, this woman my son believes I have stolen from him, this woman who stands in my study with tears in her eyes and anger in her voice because she also loves him enough to tell me the truth.

“I do not know how to fix this,” I admit.

Her face crumples for half a second before she pulls it back together.

“Neither do I.”

“I can call him.”

“Maybe.”

“I can tell him the truth.”

Her hand stills.

“About Liliana?”

“Yes.”

Julia’s eyes search mine.

“Do you want to tell him because he deserves to know,” she asks, “or because you want him to forgive you faster?”

The question is gentle, but it still cuts.

I lower my gaze.

“I do not know.”

“Then wait until you do.”