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CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Felix
I focus on my daughter, on the understanding glint in her eyes and the torn expression on her face.
There’s so much love there, but I can see the confusion and pain, all jumbled together.
Because of us.
“The second I saw Faye,” I tell Lola, doing my best not to look at my woman.
If I do that, I’ll start studying her thighs squashed into her denim jeans, her T-shirt, which shows the faint outline of her bra beneath it…the messy beauty of her hair, the affection in her eyes, the awkwardness in her kissable lips.
“I knew I had to have her,” I go on, figuring there’s no point understating anything now. “I can’t explain what happened. It was instant, Lola. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
Part of me wishes I could take that last line back, but it’s not fair. I’ve got to be honest now.
“Not even with Mom?” Lola says.
I swallow, knowing it’s time to be honest. “No, Lola. Nobody has ever made me feel this.”
“Feel what?”
Faye’s watching me too, but I resist the urge to turn to her. I’ve got to stay on task now, or my hand will decide to reach over, to softly touch my woman and let her know it’s okay, let her know she doesn’t have to worry.
Even if she does.
Love, I almost say, but I want the first time I say that to mean something.
“The second I saw her,” I say, “I wanted to…to be with her. Not just physically. I wanted to be in a relationship with her. I was dreaming about a family together the second she walked out of that door before I recognized her. And then I realized who she was and…I tried, Lola. Maybe I should’ve tried harder.”
“Maybe,” Lola whispers. “Is that really what you think?”
“No,” I say, knowing she needs, deserves honesty. “The truth is, I can’t fight the way I feel about Faye. It goes beyond anything I can even compare it to. It’s like all my life I’ve been trying to take the one perfect photo, just one, in the absolute ideal conditions…and then one day the photo just appears on my computer. That’s what happened. The second Faye appeared in my life, I couldn’t let her go.”
I stop, my voice getting choked up. It’s all the emotion flurrying through me, something I’m not used to.
It’s not just the warmth of Faye but the cold fact that it might be taken away by my own daughter.
And she’d be justified to do it.
Lola flinches and tilts her head. “Dad, are you going to cry?”
I laugh gruffly, shaking my head. “No. You know I’m too tough for that.”
But there’s no hiding the tremor in my voice.
I sit up, smirking as I force it down.
“I got a little choked up,” I admit.
“Duh,” Lola says, then laughs.
Laughs.
It sounds like a miracle.
I glance at Faye to find her looking at me, her eyes as shiny with emotion as mine must be. We hold the look for far too long, considering we agreed we’d limit loving stares while in Lola’s presence.
