When Lies Unfold

Chapter 88

I swear my lungs stop workin’and my heart skips a few fuckin’ beats.

Shock has me frozen like a complete jackass, but my eyes drink in the sight of her. Her hair’s shorter, barely reachin’ her shoulders, and she’s got a scar that runs in a thick line along her left temple.

I don’t know if I’m seein’ things or not. Fear that my mind’s playin’ tricks on me has my voice raspy as fuck. “Lola?”

She edges her way inside my office as if worried about my reaction.

I push myself up on unsteady feet, unwillin’ to tear my eyes off her for fear of her disappearin’ all over again. I rush around my desk, and she meets me in the center of my office.

I reach for her but hesitate. “It’s really you.”

She nods. “It’s really me.”

Anger and hurt battle their way to the forefront. “Where the fuck have you been?”

She flinches at my sharp tone, and her words are rushed, heavily laced with nervousness. “Agent Garcia—and Rodrigo—helped me escape, and it wasn’t easy because I was shot twice.

“I was in bad shape for…quite a while.” She wets her lips before continuin’. “Once they brought me out of the medically induced coma and I regained consciousness, Agent Garcia said I had to stay hidden during my recovery and while everything came to light with Juarez and the others on trial.”

She links her fingers together, her dark brow creased. “I wanted to come back sooner, but we had to be sure it was safe, because I couldn’t bear to put any of you in danger again and?—”

I fist the front of her shirt and haul her closer, cinchin’ my other arm around her waist. Vyin’ for control over my emotions, I push out the question from between clenched teeth. “You here to stay?”

She swallows hard, her eyes searchin’ my face. “Only if you want me to.”

I don’t immediately respond as I study her up close. She’s got more of those small scars on her face than before she left. Not to mention, that scar alongside her head from a bullet that coulda ended her.

I keep my tone devoid of inflection. “I suppose you can stay.”

Wariness edges into her beautiful features. “I can?”

“Yeah.” I force a shrug. “After all, I need a good house cleaner.”

Our eyes hold for a long beat as hers flicker with a myriad of emotions. Hurt follows disbelief before her expression sharpens. “That’s a relief since I only work for men with girly hair.”

I arch a brow. “That so?”

“Yes.”

Movin’ my hand to her nape, I tangle my fingers in her hair. “I don’t really wanna hire you as a cleaner, though.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah.”

“A nanny, then?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one of those, either.”

Confusion crosses her face. “Then what do you need?”

I dust my lips over hers before easin’ back to gauge her reaction. “A wife.”

Her face falls with relief before her eyes fill with tears. With her lower lip tremblin’, she whispers, “But I didn’t think you wanted that kind of thing.”

“I didn’t. Until you.” I let my words linger for a beat. “That’s why I never stopped searchin’ for you.” My voice grows hoarse. “I couldn’t believe you were dead. I swear my gut told me you were out there somewhere.”

Tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to you sooner. I?—”

I place a finger over her lips to stop her. “I know.” Gently, I sweep away her tears. “No more apologies. At least not until you’ve answered me.”

Her lips purse. “You didn’t ask me a question.”

“Marry me, Lola Arias.”

“Still not a question.” That familiar hint of mischief gleams in her brown eyes. “And why would you even want to marry me?”

“’Cause I love the fuck outta you.”

A little laugh erupts from her before her features soften. She peers up at me with such blatant affection that I wonder for a second what I did to deserve this woman.

When she presses her lips to mine and whispers, “Good. Because I love the fuck outta you, too—girly hair and all,” a laugh bursts free of me.

In this moment, my heart feels like it’s gonna beat straight outta my chest. This is somethin’ I’ve never fully experienced in my life.

Joy.

Just when I think it can’t possibly get any better, I’m proven wrong. ’Cause my daughter comes barrelin’ in and flings her arms around us.

“See? I told you she’d come back!” Alma exclaims.

When Lola gathers Alma in her arms and presses kisses to my daughter’s cheeks, my eyes burn. I need to blink a few times to focus clearly on my girls. Identical to Lola’s, the smile on Alma’s face is near blindin’.

And when they reach for me, tuggin’ me in for a family hug, I don’t hesitate. ’Cause this is so much better than joy.

This right here is fuckin’ bliss.