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“Okay, baby. I'll be back there in a few minutes.” Her face softened as her son disappeared down the hallway. It didn't take much to see that her boy was her world.
When she turned to me, mama bear was back. She led me to the front door and ushered me into the elevator lobby.
“I don't want you to come tomorrow night,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. That drew my attention to her breasts, which were hidden beneath a sweatshirt.
“Because that's your time with Gabriel?”
“My time with Gabriel?”
“I don’t mean to overstep, but I assumed your husband doesn’t live here with you and Gabriel, that perhaps he has him on certain nights or something.”
She looked lost for a moment, distracted, almost in pain, but then she tilted her head up and looked me dead in the eyes.My God. This woman was so strong.“Do you have kids, Carlos?” She completely avoided answering my question, but I didn’t press.
“No.”
“Then this might not make sense to you, but Gabriel gets attached easily. He won't understand why you're here one day and gone the next.”
“Gone the next?”
“Look. I don't know you. I like your sister, but strangers have no place in Gabriel's life.” She took a quick breath and seemed to rise to her full height. I wanted to argue I wasn’t really a stranger, but for a single mom, I was. And by the look on her face, she wasn’t going to be welcoming me with open arms anytime soon.
“It's a no to the pizza. A no to more puppy research. And another no to Legos.”
She turned on her heel, went back inside, and slammed the door in my face.
Okay then. I knew when I wasn’t wanted.
Chapter Seven
Carlos
I didn't liketo be challenged.
I didn't like to be told no.
And I was still fuming when I got back upstairs to my sister's apartment, where I found her in the kitchen loading the dishwasher.
“Where is everybody?” I asked, the apartment noticeably quieter.
“They’ve gone to bed,” Muriella said before narrowing her eyes on me. “Carlos, what are you up to?”
“What?”
“You know what. Holly.” Her tone was one glaring accusation.
“I walked them downstairs. I can't see what I did wrong,” I said.
She sighed, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Just . . . be careful, okay?”
“I know when you look at me, you see . . .” I didn’t want to finish that sentence by acknowledging our father. “But I'm not him.” As soon as the words were out, I wondered if I was trying to convince my sister or myself.
Her face fell, and she rushed over to me, clutching both my hands in hers. “I know that. The resemblance is hard for me, but even with that, the two of you are nothing alike. Your eyes have a light in them that his never had.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” I needed to tell her about our father, that she was free of him for good.
“Do you have a coat?” she asked over her shoulder as I followed her to the foyer.
“It didn’t occur to me to bring one.” To say I’d been preoccupied when I’d packed was an understatement. The weather in our home country didn't get cold enough to warrant winter clothing, and though I’d been all over the world, I'd never seen snow.
