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Oh my God. I move to help him, but he puts up his shaky hands.
“Stop.” He grips onto the base of the chair with a shaky hand and stands.
“Please, let me explain.”
“There is nothing to explain. There must’ve been a mix-up in the test. I’m not your father.”
The man I spent the whole summer working with side by side is gone. His grimace remains permanently etched onto his face, along with a sheen of sweat building across his brow.
My body is on autopilot, unable to let him go without getting a chance to explain what happened. I didn’t go through all my shitty circumstances to back down at the first sign of trouble. “I assure you there isn’t.” I step toward him.
He prowls like a caged animal, inching closer toward the hall that leads to the main door. “You’re not my child. There is absolutely no way.”
“When you visited New York all those years ago...you slept with my mother. I’m not sure if you remember her but...well...she found out she was pregnant with me…” My voice drifts off. I let out a raspy laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.
Based on the way Matteo’s eyes widen, I would say it didn’t go as intended. It’s as if I’m a ghost, haunting him with the truth. “We...I—I need to get to the bottom of this. This is a mistake. A big fucking mistake.”
“Just listen to me. Maybe if I told you about my mother, you’d remember her—”
“I don’t know who the fuck your mother is, but you are not my child,” he bites out.
I shrink back.
He rubs his trembling palms across his face. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Just…let me figure out what is going on.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. His retreating form is the last thing I see before the door opening and closing echoes in the distance.
With shaky legs, I slide down the wall and sit on the marble floor, curling into a ball. Rejection settles deep into my bones. It fills me with a new sense of dread, erasing all the progress I made with Matteo.
It’s not as if I thought Matteo would accept me with open arms. But the look of disgust on his face haunts my thoughts, reminding me of how another parent doesn’t want me.
I forgot what it felt like to be abandoned. The cold feeling steals away my warmth, reminding me of past feelings about my mother. I was nothing but a hassle for her, and now I’m nothing but a regret for my dad. The product of an unmemorable one-night stand. Not even worth being listened to.
Tears run down my face as I swallow back my sobs. I place my forehead against my knees as I take a few deep breaths. I’m not sure how long I sit there, but it feels like hours before Santiago returns.
The usually calming th
ump of his iWalk does little to ease the emptiness inside my chest.
“Oh, Chloe.” His voice cracks.
I look up at him, wiping at my tear-stained cheeks.
His forehead scrunches as his eyes scan my face. “Come on.” He extends his hand out to me.
Not one grunt comes from him as I clutch onto it and stand.
Santiago pulls me into his body, basking me in his warmth. He doesn’t speak as he leads me toward the living room. I’m in a daze, falling onto his lap as he lands on the couch.
“What happened?” He pushes my hair out of my face.
“He didn’t take it well.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. His arms secure themselves around me, holding me tight to his body. The way he cradles me reminds me of a child. It fills me with the same kind of feeling—security in my moment of distress.
I hide my head against his chest, muffling my sniffles. “It ended up being the worst-case scenario. He literally tripped over himself to get out the door. And he didn’t even give me a chance to explain, let alone make sure he was okay.”
“Maybe he needs some time to come to terms with it. It’s a lot to take in, I’m sure.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t see his face. It was like I was this monster to him.”
