Chapter Forty-Seven Tyler #2
Eyes holding mine, she tilts her glass to sip as I give her what I’m certain is the truth. “I want to deserve her.” When her expression remains apathetic, I shift gears. “Your present is under the tree. Go grab it.”
“Dad, I’m too old—”
“Humor me,” I urge as Larissa keeps one foot outside the door. Paper crackles over the line as I get lost in her honey-colored stare before Zach guffaws.
“Holy shit, you signed almost all your acres to me? And the deed to the house, too. Dad,” he utters, his emotion evident. “This is too much.”
“I kept a few in the chance we become neighbors someday.” I cover the mouthpiece, my whisper for Larissa: “To live a boring life of apples.” She rolls her eyes, which I consider a good sign as I speak up for Zach.
“And you wanted that house for when you found your own love, remember? Now you have to go out and find her.”
“Thank you, really—I can’t believe you finally found someone. Trust me, that’s a better present.”
“She found me, but don’t celebrate too much. Chances are good she’ll smother me with a pillow in my sleep tonight.”
“Let me talk to her,” Zach offers, “I’ll tell her you’re the best man alive.”
“You just did.”
“I’m on speaker?”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Uh, hey there,” he spouts through a sheepish chuckle. “Nice to meet you, whoever you are, and if it’s not too much trouble, please don’t smother my dad in his sleep.”
When Larissa remains on the spot, I help her with an out. “Trust me, her silence is warranted.”
“Geesh, I can’t wait to hear this story.”
“Yeah, well, it’s one I’m ashamed to tell. Merry Christmas, and tell Mom and Dad I’ll call tomorrow.”
“K, but uh, watch your six,” he chuckles. “Love you, Dad, and … Merry Christmas, stranger.”
“Merry Christmas, Zach,” Larissa softly replies, surprising us both, before I repeat his sentiment and hang up and briefly squeeze her hand. “Thank you for that.”
“He’s their brother,” she delivers with ease, “and we can work out visitation with your family at some point. I’m not keeping them our secret to punish you, Tyler.”
“Fuck.” My eyes close briefly in relief. “That’s … Thank you. My mother isn’t really speaking to me. I mean, she is, but it’s nothing nice.”
When her lips threaten to lift again, the need to erase the distance starts to undo me. As the undeniable pulse begins to pound, I attempt to speak around it. “Please know that I’m aware of how badly I fucked up by coming onto you last time, but it’s—”
“You know, all I could think as I stood here is if you knew I was watching you with Alexander. Listening as you whispered so sweetly to our son, and thinking the whole time, ‘Does he know I’m standing here?’” Her eyes shimmer with hurt before clearing as my pounding heart stutters.
“Jesus, I’m not that callous—”
When she quirks a brow in a call of bullshit, I swallow and nod.
“You’re right.” I palm my neck. “I hate that’s the way you think of me.”
“And I hate who I am when I’m around you. Filled with spite and paranoia,” she sighs. “I don’t want to be this woman. I refuse to be, but I can’t look at you any other way right now.”
“I get it, okay? But tell me, what’s my motive? You’ve already given me access to our babies, so what else could I want, other than you?”
Her lips part at my admission before her resolve kicks in and she presses past me into the villa. “We need to talk.”
Nodding, I take a seat on the couch, lowering my gaze to make her comfortable. “About?”
“Ignacio.”
She takes a seat in the chair opposite me, and I grow more thankful for the wine circulating through me. “What about him?”
“He’s here,” she delivers bluntly, “and I don’t want my family or him on the offensive because of you.”
“I’m aware. Alonzo told me he carried out Ciro’s execution orders to spare him,” I admit, “so I’ll trust your judgment.”
Her eyes widen a little, which tells me Alonzo didn’t tell her the full extent of our conversation, if any of it. Which only has me respecting the fucker. It’s her hesitation that has me second-guessing the validity of his confession.
“So, it’s not true?” Concern filters in as I glance back at the babies.
“I’m only telling you this because you deserve to know Ignacio’s true nature. He’s currently on antipsychotics and has been under constant observation since Alonzo freed him.”
“But?”
“He’s almost killed one of Tula’s men out of paranoia, and it set him back.”
I hold her gaze and realize the truth in it. “Jesus.”
“I won’t give up on him,” she declares adamantly. “The first two psychiatrists labeled and dismissed him. He’s still in there. He just needs time.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I relay, knowing the line we’re walking is already threadbare. “Just, please call on me if you need me.”
“Alonzo is doing what he can to help transition him here, but Ciro’s still very much in his head. He was severely addicted to amphetamines and is still mentally leveling out from the withdrawal.”
“Jesus,” I sigh, “could this get any more fucking complicated?”
Swiping her glass from the table, I take another mind-numbing sip.
“No one is forcing you to be here; this is my family,” she defends.
It’s then that I lift my eyes to hers. “And you and those babies are mine, and I didn’t mean it like that.” I swirl the wine in my hand. “Selfishly, I don’t want you to have another reason to push me away, but I fear I’m about to give you one.”
She reads my hesitance. “They haven’t been alone with their uncle yet and won’t until I feel it’s safe. I’m nowhere near that. Family or not, do you think I would ever subject them to anything close to what I’ve dealt with?”
“Of course not. I trust your judgment.” I swallow, eyeing the hip that bears her birthmark, unsure if she knows I’m aware. Chances are Alonzo didn’t tell her about my revelation, either. “So, is that all?”
“Why?” She stands. “Am I dismissed?”
Without thinking, I stand and pull her flush to me, releasing her just as quickly.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I backtrack. “Dismissed? No, I’m in fucking pain, ignoring what you so clearly don’t want me to put a voice to,” I grit out as our chests start to pump against the inevitable rising tide.
“So no, you’re not dismissed and never will be. Are you with him?”
“We’re leaving for mass soon,” she stamps out, neck flushing. “Tula has invited you.”
“We both know it’s not her invitation I want.”
“I agree it would be good for the rest of the family to see their father, for them to accept your place.”
“And will you … accept my place?”
“I don’t have a choice, Marine.”
“Tyler, and do you ever.” I blow out a measured breath, my instincts warring between what I need and what she does. “I’ll come. Maybe I’ll pray for the second time in my life.”
“To a God you don’t believe in with faith you don’t have?”
“For a chance to worship you and beg for my salvation later. I’m done lying to us both. I want you, in every way, with me,” I state bluntly, “so if you’re with him, I’ll leave it alone—”
“I’ll let Tula know you’re coming,” she says before turning and walking out.