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“All of them are here?” Ella asks me in a whisper.
There is no point in lying. “Yes.”
“Oh, God, David…”
Moving my hand from her leg, I twine our fingers together. Those black nails do things to me, and the memories calm me somehow. We are in this together. We’ve got this.
Together we can conquer the world.
I haven’t even parked my car when the front door opens, and the pandemonium erupts. This is the Posada family’s version of the Prodigal Son story. This time including a surprise baby—a preschooler—and a gorgeous woman.
My father rushes out first, followed by Elena, a couple of kids, and my sisters-in-law. Yes, including Destinee, my ex. They all stay on the front porch, with my father coming to the car.
“This is terrifying,” Melanie murmurs again just before I open my door to circle the front of the rental SUV and help her.
“Daddy, I can’t,” Davi yells from the safety seat where he’s strapped on.
“Give me a second, Champ,” I tell him. “I’m helping Mommy first.”
But I don’t have the chance. My father is opening Ella’s door and offering her a hand. “Welcome toLa Gloria, Melanie,” he greets her, and my father’s voice sounds choked. “Welcome home.”
Melanie’s gaze finds mine for a second before turning her attention to my father again.This is fine, baby. My father is welcoming you with arms wide open.“Thank you so much, Mr. Posada.”
“Nada de eso,” he replies in Spanish, then adds: “That’s nonsense. I’m Ignacio, or you can call mepapá Nacho¸as all my daughters do.”
Fuck, if my throat doesn’t feel tight right now, he’s welcoming Melanie in the same way he did with Erin, Gabriel’s wife, and Destinee. As a daughter. To hide my emotions, I get busy taking Davi from the seat.
Melanie smiles and tries the words carefully, rolling her tongue attempting to imitate my father’s pronunciation.
My father approaches us with Ella’s hand on the crock of his arm and a smile so big that it’s threatening to break his face in two.
“We have been waiting for you.” The mixed emotions in his tone let me know he isn’t talking just about the last few days since I announced my visit. My father has been waiting for me for years. “Bienvenido a casa, hijo.”
Welcome home, son.
“Who’s this boy?” he questions as if he has no idea. Davi’s head is on my shoulder, his little arms around my neck, seeking protection.
I haven’t seen my son acting this shy before. Yeah, I get it. My family is huge, and they can be overwhelming sometimes.
“Davi,” I say while poking his belly softly, almost tickling him. “Don’t you want to meet my father? He’s yourabueloand wants to say hi. We talked about this before.”
We did. Several times. Plus, during the flight, Davi bombarded me with questions as I regaled him with my childhood stories.
“He doesn’t have white hair like my Granpa.” Davi whispers, his words are meant for me, but his voice is loud enough for everyone to hear.
The three of us laugh at Davi’s smart remark. “That’s because he looks like me.” Or I look like him, whatever.
The four Posada brothers look like my father’s clones, tall and well-built. Heads full of thick black hair and dark eyes. You can see we come from the same mold in a blink. Even if Gabriel is taller. Martin is bulkier. Ruben also resembles our mother a little more. He’s the pretty boy. As for me… well, like I said, my father’s duplicate.
“And you look like us, too,” I poke him again. “Don’t you want to see?”
That does the trick, Davi lifts his head, and the expression on his little face is something I’ll never forget. He’s enraptured.
Then, in a gesture that’s one hundred percent Davi, he stretches his hand to touch my father’s face. As if he were a mirage. Or a ghost.
“You’re my granpa?” he finally asks.
My father smiles again. “Yes, I’m yourabuelo Nacho.” Ignacio Posada is a family man. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for one of his own. There is no doubt in my mind how much it means for him to finally meet my son.
