AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My heart thundered in my ears. “How bad will it hurt?”
Paco grimaced. “Not gonna lie, there’s definitely discomfort, but the wrist isn’t nearly as bad as other places.”
It was a good thing I had no plans to ever get another tattoo becauseshit,that hurt. If it was worse in other areas? Hell, no.
When Conner’s name was complete, he took my arm in his hands and examined the artistry, stroking the angry red skin with a gentle caress. “Now it doesn’t matter what name’s on your bracelet; it’s my name you’ll always carry with you.”
I had to blink back the moisture that pooled in my eyes. How strange to think this man, who was so stoic and even abrasive at times, could also be so gentle and sweet.
We left the shop with our new ink and the formation of a fragile bond between us.
I was willing to entertain his notion of a real marriage, though I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant to him. Was he talking about our commitment to one another or something more? Could he possibly mean love? And even if he did develop a love for me, could our relationship ever come first when pitted against his duty and ambitions?
There was only one way to find out.
I had to take the leap and try to trust in him and open up my heart.
On the entire way home, I debated whether I could take that risk. When we reached the building lobby, I was still lost in my thoughts when the sight of Mia Genovese brought Conner to a stop.
“Em, I need you to head upstairs,” he said in a low, wary tone.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, worry gnawing at my gut. I wasn’t sure why she’d show up at his home, but something felt off.
“I’m sure she just wants to talk. I’ll be up in a few.” He pulled his frustrated gaze from her and gave me a pointed stare, urging me to comply.
Nodding, I left them alone, not remotely reassured.
I didn’t like sendingNoemi upstairs by herself, but every ounce of intuition I possessed was prickling at the sight of Mia Genovese. She was practically vibrating with nervous energy. Something was up, and it wasn’t simply a case of a guilty conscience.
I steeled myself for whatever she had to say and walked to her. “Mia, this is a surprise.”
Her smile was kind, but the apology creasing the corners of her eyes had my attention. “Conner, I’m so sorry to show up like this, but I need to talk to you about something. Something important that you need to know.” She clutched her phone in her hand as though it had the power to transport her away from the remorse eating at her.
“Let’s have a seat.” I reluctantly led us to an unoccupied sitting area. Residents passed through the lobby periodically, but our conversation wouldn’t be overheard. I kept my posture as relaxed as I could and allowed her to say what she’d come to say.
She sat perched on the edge of her seat, eyes dancing between me and her phone. “I know it seems strange for me to come here. There’s never exactly a good time for a conversation like this, but it’s been eating me up inside.”
“Okay, you have my attention.”
She sucked in a gulp of air as if to fortify herself. “I don’t imagine you know much about the circumstances of your adoption.”
“Just that you were sixteen and unable to care for me,” I offered without judgment.
“My family was very devout, you see. I volunteered at our church when I wasn’t at school. One summer, our youth director asked if some of us older kids would be willing to help out a sister church with their vacation bible school. They’d had an unexpectedly large enrollment of little ones and needed a few extra hands for a two-week day camp. Of course, I was happy to volunteer.” She paused, the fondness of a treasured memory relaxing her features. “The church was St. Patrick’s, and it’s where I met your father.”
If I stilled any further, I might have been mistaken for dead.
St. Patrick’s was the church where I’d been taken as a newborn. The church where my adoptive parents were members. Mia Genovese was going to tell me who my father was, and something about that terrified her.
“We didn’t know each other long. He was so charming, though, that I fell hard and fast. I was so naïve at that age that I didn’t think I could possibly get pregnant before I was married. My parents were so conservative and proper that they never talked to me about sex. I was a full six months along with you before my mother figured out my condition. I’d been clueless. I was terrified, so I did exactly as they told me.
“I didn’t leave our house for the next three months. Not until the day after you were born when I snuck out and took you to the church along with my grandmother’s rosary. My parents had made arrangements with a non-secular adoption agency, not wanting to work with any Catholic services that might leak information into our community about how I’d shamed them. I felt so powerless, but the one thing I could do for you was get you to that church where I knew you at least had some family.”
I could have stopped her right then and there—could have told her I didn’t want to know and to leave it in the past—but the words wouldn’t come. I sat in rapt silence, watching the train wreck before me unfold.
A tear trickled down her cheek.
“When I found out who you’d become, you couldn’t imagine how happy I was for you. To know you hadn’t been alone.” She wiped at the tear, her words growing shaky. “I thought we’d meet, you and I, and then I could tell your father about you. He had a family, you see, so I wanted to go about it carefully, but then …” Her words caught on a sob, but she continued as though the avalanche of truth was now too powerful to hold back. “How could I have ever known that the same night … the same night we had our dinner …” She squeezed her eyes shut, grief overtaking her.
