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“Watch it, Sanders…”
“She wakes up, she breathes it in, and then she chooses to step in the ring and face it. Do you even know what lupus is?”
It’s not lupus, it’s the curse. I refuse to call it anything else.
“Her body is at war with itself. What you’re seeing tonight is her determination to live and to have a little fun while doing it, plus a shit-ton of medication.”
I watch her glide into a room at the end of the hallway and shut the door behind her, and then I’m hightailing it toward the exit.
“I’m done. I’ll deal with the consequences later.”
“Edier, don’t.”
Incensed, I spin back around. “Did you just give me an order, college boy? You know you’ll be working for me if Santiago and Daddy ever give the go-ahead, so just remember who you’re talking to.”
“Keep to the other side of the room,” he mutters, realizing he’s gone too far. “There are two hundred people here. She’s not going to notice…”
But what if Iwanther to notice?
It only took one glance for me to see how hollow my life’s been since I went away. I’ve missed her kindness, her peace, her light. I’ve missed being around all the good in her soul because I’m done drowning in all the bad in mine.
But I also know the rules, and I don’t need a dyingbrujato spell it out for me this time.
We were close once, and she paid a terrible price for it…
Whatever happens tonight, I can’t make the same mistake again.
6
ELLA
“Am I interrupting you?”
My father looks up as I slip inside the study and shut the door behind me. “Not at all,” he says, his face impassive, but there’s a rare warmth in his eyes as he motions to the empty chair in front of him. “Come…sit.” Sweeping his black boots off the desk, he tosses whatever he was reading to one side with that same sharp air of authority that Edier had when he tossed his car keys to the valet earlier. The force of his charisma is already overcrowding the more-than-generously-sized room.
“There are so many stories in here,” I marvel, glancing around at all the overloaded bookshelves. “I never realized Uncle Rick was such a literary hoarder.”
“Clearly, there’s too much downtime in between all that venality in Washington.” My father beckons me closer again with another of those highhanded gestures, and then pulls out one of the desk drawers. He places an exquisite chess set between us, and my heart flutters with joy. “It just goes to confirm what I’ve long suspected. Politicians are part-time lawmakers and full-time bullshitters. Shall we play?”
“At least they’re well-read ones,” I reason with a smile, watching him twist the board one-eighty and present me with two rows of gleaming white pieces.
I always play white. He always plays black.
Chess is our thing, or it used to be until business took him away from the private island we call home for much of last year. Every evening we’d play until I was dizzy with exhaustion. It’s the only game I’ve ever beaten him at, and the only time I’ve seen a glimpse of that scary, dark shadow that everyone talks about when they think I’m not listening.
“How are you feeling?”
The question is subtle, but I know it’s all he’s been thinking about since I stepped inside this room.
“As much as I love you,Papá, could we maybe have a conversation that doesn’t include the state of my health for once?”
“If you insist.” His gaze still lingers on my face though, and I know he’s looking for warning signs of the tell-tale lupus rash.
I drop my eyes to neaten my pieces. “We don’t have long. I think they’re about to bring out the entrees.”
“It’syourbirthday,mija. We can stay here all evening if we want to.”
“On second thought, it might be best if we do.”
