Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
When I was finally ready to go in the house, I brought the tray with me and placed it on the kitchen counter. As I did, I heard the front door close.
Catalina stepped around the corner seconds later, her face sweaty and a little pink. Her hair was in a dark ponytail, a white headband on her head. She wore leggings and a sports bra.
“Went for a run?” I asked.
“Yes.” She lifted a hand, holding up a single piece of mail. “I think this is it, Javi.”
My pulse clogged my ears as she approached me. My mother popped off the sofa and scurried in our direction. Cat started to hand me the envelope, but I held up a hand, walking around the counter and sitting on one of the stools.
“I . . . I cannot open that,” I mumbled.
“Do you want me to?” Cat asked.
I nodded my head, glaring at the floor.
My sister drew in a deep breath and started to open it. Only the sound of crinkling paper filled the dreadful silence. After it was open, she cleared her throat. I looked up as she removed a single sheet of paper from the envelope, unfolded it, and began to read.
She looked at me with watery eyes and did not have to utter a single word for me to know the truth.
“Oh, Javi,” she whimpered.
“¿Qué?” My mother snatched the paper out of Cat’s hands and scanned it rapidly. Then she yelled, “No! Oh no!”
Her cry was loud, striking at every nerve in my body. I climbed off the stool and caught my mother as she started to buckle. I was not sure why this feeling of numbness had rinsed over me. I tried to blink, to let the feelings take root, but my body refused.
“Hijo, no,” she whined. “No. Not this.”
“It is okay.” I held my mother when she threw her arms around me. Then I looked at Cat, who had tears skidding down both her cheeks. I opened one of my arms so she could step in, but she waved a hand before bolting out of the kitchen.
Cat was never really big on showing her emotions, so I held my mother instead. Because not only did she need me, but I also needed her. I guided her to the sofa so she could sit again, then I returned to the kitchen, spotting that single sheet of paper on the floor.
It was shocking how one little piece of paper could change your whole life. This one little thing was going to leave a stain in my memories.
I stared at the paper for a while, debating with myself if I actually wanted to see the results. What did it matter if Rafael was the biological father? I was the one who was there for Aleesa. She only knew me as her dad. That would change nothing in that regard. All it would do was hurt to see it.
And yet . . . it still mattered somehow. It mattered to know the truth—to face it head-on.
Bending over, I snatched up the paper and blinked quickly to clear the blurriness in my eyes.
There were two sections on the paper. One with my name and Aleesa’s below it, and another with Rafael’s name and Aleesa’s below it.
Probability of paternity for Rafael Acosta: 99.99%
Probability of paternity for Javier Valdez: 0.00%
The truth was right there . . . and I swear I had not felt this much pain since Eloise died. It felt just like that again, like my heart had been ripped right out of my chest and then shoved down my throat.
My wife had been taken away from me . . . and now the same could happen with my daughter.
It was a good thing Aleesa and Octavia were not home. If they’d been here, they would have witnessed my true anger—the raw, primal, blazing part of me that I did not like to reveal.
With the numbness fading and my anger seizing me, I picked up one of the barstools and slammed it on the ground, breaking it to pieces.
Thirty-Five
Octavia
“All right, you got it?” I watched as Aleesa picked up her miniature pink purse.
“Yep. I got it.” She grinned at me, holding the purse close to her chest. It was her latest obsession, bought by her auntie. It was also covered in dirt now. I’d tried cleaning it with a wipe, but dirt still clung to the threaded edges and even near the straps.
I held Aleesa’s hand and headed for the front door of Javier’s house. I pushed my key into the lock and gave it a twist, let her in first, then shut and locked the door behind us.
It was now that I realized how quiet the house was. It was a little too quiet, honestly. No TV running. No music playing. No commotion in the kitchen from Paola, who loved cooking just as much as I did. It was dead silent.