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“Elena,” he says, blinking like he doesn’t really believe I’m real. “You’re here.”
I push to my feet when I feel Kal release his grip on my hair, although the way he lets his fingers comb through the strands feels somewhat reluctant on his part. Moving to wrap my arms around Papá, I kiss his stunned, ruddy face on both cheeks, the memories of the last time I saw him disappearing the second I’m engulfed in his warm embrace.
For a moment, I can almost forget that he risked my safety by forcing my hand in a marriage for personal gain. Twice.
I can almost forget the fact that he overlooked years of abuse, just because he so badly wanted to maintain his power in Boston, and needed the alliance with Bollente to do so.
I can forget all of that.
But... I don’t.
As I pull out of his hug, something chilly skates across my skin, a foreboding sensation that makes me a little queasy. Like I’m chasing something that doesn’t deserve to be caught.
Kal gets up silently, moving in to stand directly behind me; his large palms clamp down on my shoulders, yanking me back into his front, and then he’s holding out a hand to Papá, a mask of stoicism guarding his features.
Ariana and Stella stand under the archway connecting the living room to the foyer, as if waiting to see what happens next before launching themselves inside.
“Rafe,” Kal says, nodding in acknowledgment, even though the gesture feels vaguely passive-aggressive.
Papá doesn’t reach out, ignoring Kal’s offer entirely, eyes glued to me. They harden the longer the silence stretches, but then my sisters must decide it goes on for too long, because they bound into the living room, giggling and squealing, pulling me away from Kal and into their arms.
As far as I can tell, not much has changed about them in the weeks that I’ve been gone; Ariana’s chestnut hair seems a little lighter than it once was, the freckles on her face more prominent now that it’s springtime, and Stella’s wearing the same thick-framed glasses, that familiar, bland expression forever etched onto her round face.
“Okay, officially, we’ve gone way too long without seeing you,” Ariana says. She pushes back, grabs my biceps, and gives me a once-over. “Although, we need to talk about how you’re fucking glowing, E! You have to be getting a healthy dose of vitamin D.”
She wiggles her eyebrows, and I roll my eyes, pushing her away. Mamá bristles, moving away from the fireplace to glare at us from a closer vantage point.
“Ariana, honestly.” Sip, then glare. “Is that an appropriate way to talk to your sister?”
“What, I can’t be happy that she’s getting some?”
Papá makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Che palle, Ariana. Watch your tongue.”
Scoffing under her breath, she turns back to me, playing with the ends of my hair.
“They somehow got even stiffer after you left,” Stella whispers, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
“How else would two emotionless robots accurately play the part of grieving parents?” Ariana says, just barely keeping her voice down.
“Have they really been that bad?” I ask, glancing over Stella’s shoulder at Papá, who walks over to a sideboard near the doorway, pulling out a cigar and lighting up. Something I’ve never seen him do outside his office.
“It’s been pretty bad,” Ari says, rubbing her palms over her arms. “Papá is rarely home. Stella thinks he has a mistress.”
Stella sputters, shaking her head wildly, dislodging some of the light brown hair from her low bun. “I didn’t say that. I said I’d be surprised if he didn’t, which is not the same as an accusation.”
“Whatever,” Ari says. “I’m sure he does have one. You know Mamá doesn’t put out anymore. Not since her affair.”
My heart practically falls out of my chest, that single sentence a wrecking ball to my entire worldview. I swing my gaze to hers, then back at my sisters, trying to process what they’ve just said.
“Sorry,” I say, blinking. “Her what?”
Ariana and Stella glance at each other uneasily, as if trying to decide what all they should tell me. Stella glances down, noticing the diamond on my left ring finger for the first time, and it completely steals her attention, cutting off whatever they were about to say.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she says, yanking my hand closer to her face. “That’s freaking huge.”
“I’ll bet it’s not the only thing that’s huge—”
“Enough!” Papá snaps, stalking over and grabbing Ariana’s wrist, twisting it backward as he drags her away from me.
