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From the very beginning, what I’d wanted most was to protect Marisol. I’d been ruthless and fiercely possessive, but I’d never hurt her. I cherished her and provided for her. I always would.
You are not evil. My new truth rang through my mind in Marisol’s fervent voice.
Maybe evil wasn’t in my blood. Maybe I could give her everything she wanted, including children.
Our children. Our family.
Her luminous smile warmed me like sunlight, bright enough to reach even the darkest corners of my heart.
Yes, I wanted a future with this perfect woman. I wanted a family of our own.
I wanted it all.
Chapter 25
Marisol
I settled back in the rigid, metal chair with a blissful sigh, feeling as though I was floating on a cloud. Gabriela was showing Raúl around our back garden while I lounged in the shade beneath the modest, rough-hewn gazebo I’d helped my father build when I was barely eleven years old. Our house was located in a less affluent neighborhood on the outskirts of town, but that meant we had a lush patch of green space in the backyard.
Raúl followed my little sister around the garden, listening to her gush over each precious bloom on every bush and stem. His intermittent hums of appreciation and approving grunts floated through the warm air like the most beautiful music, and Gabriela practically glowed at his genuine interest in her enthusiasm.
“Raúl has his own garden at home,” I supplied when they neared the end of her tour. My taciturn savior would never boast about his home, but I was more than happy to express my pride in him.
Gabriela turned to him with an almost worshipful gaze. “You do?”
I loved seeing the way his massive body swelled with satisfaction under her obvious awe of him. A small, pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he simply nodded rather than offering a verbal reply.
“It’s a vegetable garden,” I continued. “Raúl provides what we need for nearly every meal, and he’s particularly skilled at growing a wide variety of chili plants. He makes his own hot sauce.”
Gabriela’s eyes widened to saucers. “Wow. You cook, too?”
He let out a rueful chuckle and shook his head. “No, Marisol saved me from myself when it comes to cooking. I just provide the ingredients.”
Before he could deflect the praise, I made sure to let my sister know how incredible this protective, nurturing man was. “When I told him about our family florist, he surprised me with a huge order of flowers the very next day,” I gushed. “Dahlias, gladioli, roses… They’re so beautiful and perfect.” I stood to brush a kiss over his cheek. “You’re so good to me. I love you, Raúl.”
I made the declaration just as much for his benefit as Gabriela’s. I wanted my family to know how well Raúl treated me, and how much we loved each other. I wanted them to be happy knowing that we were together.
More than anything, I longed for my father’s blessing. I was thrilled to be home, but I would have to gently break the news that I intended to live with Raúl permanently. I couldn’t bear it if my father disapproved. I couldn’t hurt him like that again.
As though summoned by my thoughts, my father’s voice called out from inside the house. “Gabriela?”
Like the sensation of jumping off a cliff, my stomach dropped with an equal mix of thrill and fear. My sweet little sister had welcomed me home with open arms. What if my father felt differently? He’d loved my mother so much, and I was the reason she’d been taken from him forever.
“We’re out here!” Gabriela called, her voice soaring with unmitigated joy.
Papá appeared at the back door, with Mario’s tiny hand caught firm in his grasp. The achingly familiar sight of the weather-beaten, craggy face of the man who’d raised me with his own brand of stern love made my breath harden to stone in my lungs.
He froze in the open threshold, his jaw hanging open to reveal his slightly crooked bottom teeth. His shocked silence seemed to last an eternity, and my chest began to burn from my inability to draw in oxygen.
Marisol. His lips shaped around my name, but no sound came out.
Faster than I could blink, his stocky frame barreled into me, and his sinewy arms closed around my back to crush me against his chest. He buried his face in my hair, and his entire body shuddered on wracking sobs.
“Mija…” He held me as though I was a miracle, a fantastical presence that was too wonderous to be real.
My own throat was too ravaged and sore to manage any more sobs, but tears flowed down my cheeks in rivers of joy and pain. “Papá. I’m here. I’m home.”
After a long while, he pulled back just far enough to drink in the sight of my face, and I studied his familiar features with matching desperation, re-memorizing each deep wrinkle around his shining eyes and grinning lips.
