Chapter 37
ELIJAH
“Gabriel!” I leap off the elevator and into the penthouse. The rooms are eerily silent, but my mind is anything but.
Slipping behind the bluestone fireplace, I head straight down the hallway to his bedroom. I hear his voice before I even reach the door.
“In my room. Now!” I yell, rapping my fist against his door as I pass.
He emerges, confused—hair wild and sexy. “What’s going on, Elijah?”
“Get in here and close the door!” I snap, storming into my bedroom with him hot on my heels. I slam my palms against the windows. I am so pissed I could jump out of one. “Damn it, Gabriel!” I knock my forehead against the thick pane.
“What did I do?” he asks, all innocent. I catch his reflection in the glass—messy hair, parted lips.
This is where it gets dicey. Gabriel and I have never fought. Sure, we’ve had our share of disagreements, but never, never have they escalated into a shouting match.
I lower my voice and turn to face him just as he sends his hands sailing through his hair.
“Tell me about Meera.”
The heat from his body, mixed with the spicy scent of his cologne, washes over me as he steps closer. But I refuse to let it get to me. I pause, unlocking my jaw.
“I know you don’t fuck women...”
He chuckles, clearly not taking me seriously. “You mean you’re not a woman?”
That’s the one thing I love about Gabriel—he isn’t a serious person. By nature, he finds joy in just about everything. He’s a ball of sunshine who truly enjoys life to its fullest. His sexuality is the only thing he takes seriously. He wears his homosexuality with exuberant pride.
“This isn’t the time for jokes,” I snarl, hating that I have to dim the light from his otherwise bright spirit, even if it’s just for a moment. Those stormy gray eyes meet my accusatory stare. “Tell me. About. Meera.”
His eyes flicker at the mention of her name, just slightly, but it’s enough to confirm my suspicion.
He knows her.
“Mimi,” he corrects, looking away. “That’s what I knew her by. She was an artist, Elijah. An acquaintance of mine through the art community, if you really must know.”
It doesn’t escape me that he’s becoming defensive, but I don’t interrupt. I need to hear this.
“And it was a long time ago… before Ana was born.” He waves his arms as if it’s no big deal.
“Keep going,” I urge, refusing to let him off the hook.
Bowing his head and shoving his hands into his pockets, he blows out a deep breath. Gorgeous locks of hair fall across his face, shielding him from my view.
“As I said, I knew her as Mimi. She was eighteen when I first met her…” He looks up, brushing his hair away from his face. “…and she was pregnant.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, waiting him out. I know he has more to say… and he better goddamn say it.
“Ana is her child.”
And there it is. In typical Gabriel fashion, he skips over the whole story and just drops the punchline.
Exasperated, I lean into him, fighting to keep my voice controlled. “So, what you’re telling me is that you turned straight for a fucking day”—there goes my control—“and Ana is biologically yours? Or…” I look him dead in the eyes. “I’m going to venture out here and guess… Alex is Ana’s father?”
A clipped nod confirms the latter.
I choke on a gasp and bring my hand to my throat. “Dios mío. Please tell me what you did was legal? Tell me that Ana is our legitimate daughter?”
Nervous fingers twist through thick locks of hair, his lips twitch, and his jaw quivers—a telltale sign that I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“It was illegally, legal,” he speaks through tight lips.
“What the hell does that even mean, Gabriel?” Bile curls through my stomach. My vision blurs. “Illegally, legal?” I repeat, trying to make sense of something that clearly doesn’t.
Those agitated fingers continue their menace through his hair. The messy version of Gabriel drives me insane, and he knows it too. Stormy eyes convey how sorry he is before he even speaks.
“It means I may have pulled some strings. Used my family’s name and our money to make things happen. But this was Mimi’s wish, mi amor. She did not want this child. Please believe me. I only agreed to help her because her baby would become our child. I did this for us, Elijah. For us.”
“So, you paid her? You fucking paid Meera… or Mimi, whatever the hell her name is? Is that your idea of ‘illegally, legal?’”
“No! You have it all wrong. I paid a liaison. She used to work for my family’s attorney.” He touches my cheek and turns my face toward him. I’m so disgusted, I can’t even look at him.
“Okay,” he exhales. “So, the adoption didn’t start out as legal, Elijah, but it became legal once Mimi signed the papers that my liaison had drawn up. Think of it as a private adoption, if you will. We just skipped the line.”
“Need I remind you that your liaison isn’t a fucking attorney?!”
His head falls to his hands, and he covers his eyes. Instinctively, I know the water works are about to begin. Gabriel has always been a crier.
I dig my fingers into my eye sockets, attempting to squelch the headache knocking around in my head. “So, you’re telling me that this whole time, you’ve known that Alex, the man I’m fucking in love with, is our daughter’s biological father?”
He peeks out through slotted fingers. “I only found out a few years ago,” he mumbles. “I never expected him to show up here—with you. But when Mimi came back, and she…”
I tear his hands away from his face, not allowing him to hide any longer. “And she what, Gabriel? What did she do?”
“She blackmailed me, Elijah. It’s why I had to leave. If I didn’t pay her, she was going to tell Alex… and you. I couldn’t lose you because of my lie. And I certainly wasn’t about to lose Ana to him.”
He pauses, eyes glistening with tears.
“Mimi became a threat. She was getting too close to our family, and I couldn’t have that. So, I left for Spain. It was all about money with her, Elijah. And I was her source. I knew if I left the country, she would follow me.”
“Nooooo!” The sound of my scream zips through my brain. I’m pissed and devastated at the same time. But my protective instincts take over, and I pull his body to mine, thumbs immediately replacing his fingers as I begin catching his tears, falling like rockets down his cheeks.
“That orange piece of plastic,” he sobs, tears tumbling over my thumbs. “Do you remember it, Elijah? The nurse gave it to me as we were leaving the hospital.”
“I do. I remember it, love.”
“It was a puzzle piece.” Hiccuping, he looks up through bloodshot eyes. “Ana’s birthmark. It was the exact shape of Ana’s birthmark. Our daughter”—he hiccups again—“is literally holding the missing link to Alex’s puzzle… in the palm of her hand.”
“Oh. My. Fucking. God.”
My hands fall away from his face, abandoning his tears.
I go rogue, flopping between English and Spanish, not even sure if what I’m saying makes any sense.
I mumble, curse, and spew hateful words.
He cries harder. But now his tears look different to me.
They’re ugly, soaked with shame and guilt.
The tears that I’d become accustomed to had always been soft and heartfelt—splashes of love across his handsome face.
Beautiful tears. Like when our daughter was born and he’d cried while holding on to Ana’s tiny hand, trying to wipe away the blotch of red from the center of her palm.
What we’d thought to be a stain was actually her birthmark.
Gabriel had been fascinated by it—a puzzle piece.
It was as if someone had placed it smack in the middle of her hand.
But over time, through many of her growth spurts, the birthmark faded.
It’s still there, though, just a paler version of its original vibrant color.
“Elijah?” He reaches out, but I take a step back.
“Mimi was my friend. She was an exceptional artist—extraordinarily gifted. It’s difficult for me to explain her mindset.
It’s like her mind was a tangle of thoughts.
.. a web of beasts and butterflies. If I could have painted her, I would have started with a blank canvas and ended with one too.
Because there’s no drawing what you can’t see.
Do you understand?” He stares at my blank face and then sends his hands surfing through his hair.
“Jesus, of course you don’t. How could you, if I don’t understand her myself?
That mind of hers was complicated, chaotic; there was no paving a path through her chaos.
” He blinks with heavy tears clinging to his lashes.
“That’s what I saw every time I looked at her, Elijah. Chaos. Beautiful chaos.”
I breathe in his words. Absorb them. Let them wash over me until I can actually see the beauty behind the presentment. Gabriel has always had a way with words. He could have been a poet if he so desired, but art was his passion.
I take a step closer and run a thumb across his throat.
“Elijah…” He hums. “I believe that when she saw Ana’s birthmark, her artistic mind took over.
Hell, even mine did. Our baby girl was holding an actual piece of a puzzle.
That’s fucking insane.” His face brightens and dims within the blink of an eye.
“It never crossed my mind that Mimi would actually construct a whole damn puzzle around that one piece. See what I mean, Elijah? There are layers to her thoughts—it’s what makes her art so intriguing. ”
“Need I remind you, she blackmailed us, Gabriel? Used that talent you speak so highly of as insurance. Imagine if you had refused to pay? She would have led Alex right to his daughter, and he’d have found the missing piece. VOILà! Puzzle solved.”
“You speak French?” Gabriel mocks, as usual, trying to make light of a bleak situation.
A smile forms on my face; it’s damn near impossible to keep one from forming. His fingers come to rest against my lips. They taste like his expensive cinnamon soap. I’ve always loved that soap.
“How long has she been blackmailing us?”