Page 83 of A Coffee Away

Father entered after her and hugged me.

I flinched, wanting to push him away, but willed my body to stay still in his embrace.

He walked in, chin high, shoulders back. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

What the fuck did he mean by that? The canvases were in my room, and this part was still empty except for the furnishings, ones he had selected for me. I never did anything about it because from the moment I entered, I wanted to move out. It didn’t feel like a home.

When my parents helped me move to Guaynabo, they said I was still living with them before the accident. I believed them, but there was something off. Something I couldn’t remember until last night. My home.

I was trembling and so close to losing it that it was hard to breathe. But I’d be the mature one. We’d talk like adults.

I ignored Dad and moved toward the sofa. “Wine?”

Mom beamed as she sat. “Oh, yes, dear. You know I’ll never say no to that.”

I poured the pinot noir and passed her a glass. “Dad?”

“No. I’m good.” Dad took a seat and wrapped his arm around Mom’s shoulders.

“So…” I touched my ring finger, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

“You seem nervous, Roberto. Are you okay?” Dad asked.

I clenched my fists by my sides. “We need to talk.”

Mom opened her eyes wide, then looked at Dad. She put the glass down. Her hand shook.

Dad patted her thigh twice and leaned forward. “What is it, son? Do you remember something?”

I do.

I wanted to scream. To know why the fuck they had lied to my face. I wanted to wipe that smile off Dad’s face. But first, I wanted answers.

Last night, I finally put a face to the man who had dominated my dreams for the last six months. To the voice that whispered words of love. To the touch for which my blood burned with lust.

Esteban. It was him. I had no doubt. That was why my body melted into him when he kissed me. And when our tongues clashed, sparks detonated throughout my body, and memories came crashing in. Memories of us. Of our love.

Everything was coming back, and as the hours passed, I recalled our place. I remembered our apartment. Our moments together. Our friends.

But there was something that didn’t make sense. Something I needed to clear up with my parents.

My stomach shrank. “I have one question. Why wasn’t Esteban there when I woke up?”

Dad stood, his hands in front of him. “Roberto, please. We were only looking out for you. That man is no good for you.”

“I don’t understand.” My breathing grew heavier. I darted my eyes between them.

The pounding in my ears was unbearable as Dad raised an eyebrow with that smugness he always carried.

He cleared his throat. “Everything I did was to help you. Esteban became violent.”

The hit on my chest was almost physical. Esteban? Violent?

“I wonder why…” I grunted. “Esteban is not a violent man.” I closed the space between us. “What the fuck did you do to make him lose it?”

Dad shrugged. “He had a letter that said you’d authorized him over us to take care of you. Obviously, we fought for its authenticity and won. Because how could you?”

I dug my nails into my palms as violence threatened to burst out of me toward my father. “How could I what? Entrust myself to the man I loved? To the man who showed me the life I was missing while you had me trapped in your own little world? I lived twenty-one years of my life believing there was something wrong with me. Wearing a mask in front of your friends, colleagues, the church…” A sinister chuckle escaped me. “The question is how could I not do it? The only option you left me was to leave. To put my past behind me. To step into my new life.” I shook my head and smirked. “And you know what’s funny? He always pushed me to fix things with you. He’s the one who made me call you all those times. The one who made me come to talk to you, Mom. And you paid him back by taking away what was his right. By pushing him away from me…”