Chapter 33
AIDA
The drive to my father’s home the next day didn’t take but thirty minutes, and they were the fastest thirty minutes of my life.
The car is parked at the curb, my eyes paralyzed on the white door, the only thing keeping me away from meeting the man my mother was in love with. Or at least I hope she was.
Matteo’s brothers were able to show me the articles about my disappearance, my dad’s pleas to find us, offering money to get us back. As the years dwindled away, so did the trail of our existence. We were forgotten by the world, but I hope not by him.
“We can stay here for as long as you want,” Matteo says, clutching a hand around me in the back of one of Dom’s SUVs, the same driver who took us to Alison’s mother at the wheel.
“What if he hates me? What if I ruin his life by showing up?”
“No way. I don’t think any parent would feel that way. And if he says that, I’ll gladly punch him.”
A grin wraps around his face. I know he’s only half-kidding.
“I’ll be there with you every step of the way, baby. You just have to be the one to take the first step.”
My heart instantly jumps from the term of endearment. He’s never called me that before. I’ve heard his brothers call the girls that. I’m sure that’s where he picked it up, and I kinda like it. A lot.
“Okay,” I tell him. “But if you don’t open the door and get out, I never will.” My tumultuous pulse practically somersaults in my throat, drumming like the gallop of horses.
He chuckles, grabbing the door handle and pushing it open. “Let’s do this.” Exiting first, he gives me his hand, helping me climb out. Once we’re both on our feet, he continues to hold me, guiding us toward the small colonial house. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably bolt.
The heaviness of my breathing causes my entire body to break into a tremor. Without me even asking, he circles an arm around me and keeps me close, kissing my temple.
“You’re going to be great. I’ve got you.”
“I need to stop being so nervous. If he doesn’t like me, then it’s okay. At least I tried.” But that’s a lie. If he turns me away, I’ll die inside.
“I can always kill him.”
I push him with a shoulder, laughing quietly. “Don’t do that. Okay, maybe you can hurt him. A little.”
“Deal.”
We’re now right in front of the door, and my hand hovers as I try to knock. Matteo does it for me instead. “I’ve got you,” he assures once more, and it’s as though the reassurance gives me the courage I need.
Closing my eyes, I take in a single long breath, and I look back at the door, the sound of faint footsteps getting closer until the door opens. A woman with short brown hair and matching eyes greets us with a curious smile.
Who the hell is that?
“Hi there!” she chirps brightly, a set of white teeth on display. “May I help you?”
“Um—I—ahh. Never mind,” I fluster, turning back around.
“Baby,” Matteo calls softly, a hand gently grazing my shoulder.
With a defeated sigh, I pivot, my mouth bending in a smile that probably looks like it belongs on a crazy woman.
“Is Clark available?” Matteo asks.
She observes us intriguingly. “Who may I say is asking?”
“Mom, who’s there?” someone calls, and a young boy is suddenly there. He appears older than Robby, probably by a few years, and his eyes are like mine—like Dad’s.
Oh crap. This is his new family.
“Um, you know what, never mind.” I shake my head, my eyes going downcast to try and hide the tears that have already come.
“Oh my God,” the woman whispers, her voice full of bewilderment. “You’re…you’re her, aren’t you?”
Her eyes round, a hand flying to her mouth. The shock on her face has her staring at me so hard, my body breaks into a wave of tingles.
“Clark!” she yells. “Clark, get over here. Right now.”
“What’s wrong, Emma?” A male voice drifts over. “Can a man eat?” And the way he says that, it’s not with anger, it’s with jest.
He loves her. He’s forgotten us.
“Just get over here!” She can’t separate her eyes from me, like a deer in the headlights.
“I’m here, honey.” He shows up right behind her, looking at me, then Matteo.
That’s my father. Oh God.
Grief plants itself into my heart and I rub at the pain. How different would I be if I were raised by him?
“Who are you folks?” he finally asks, scratching the side of his light brown hair, sprinkled with a bit of gray.
There is kindness written all over his face.
You can practically feel it. “Because whatever you’re selling, we ain’t buyin’, unless you got some fishing hooks, I do need some of those.
” There’s a twinkle in his gaze and I can’t stop staring.
Emma doesn’t say a word as she slowly pivots her head to him. When he sees her expression, he stares deeply at her for a second, before he drifts his attention back to us.
“Who—who are you?” His stare narrows. But then he prods past her, nearing me, his head tilting sideways, and his tears form hard and fast, like a puddle growing larger from the sudden pouring of the sky.
“No…” he whispers, stumbling back, and Emma is there, her hand on his shoulder. “A-Aida? God. No. It can’t be. After all this… Is this real?”
I pant, wetness coating the rims of my lower lashes as I nod, breaking into a silent sob. “It’s me, Dad.”
“Aida!” he cries. In a flash, he clasps me in his arms and holds me as we both cry. For minutes. For hours. I don’t know. Right now, it doesn’t matter because I found my father and he’s never forgotten me after all.
We’re actually here. In my dad’s home. I have a father. A real one. A kind one. The shock will take a while to wear off.
“This was when you were one and started walking,” he explains, twenty minutes later, opening a photo album he’s kept with photos of us. Mom, me—our family. We seemed so happy. I swipe a tear from my eye, grinning as I look at every single picture.
Matteo sits quietly next to me, while Emma places some tea and coffee on the end table beside my…
my dad. My God, I’ll never get used to it.
I’ve come from having a monster for a father to meeting this man, who’s actually how a dad should be.
I can tell how fond Noah, his only other child, is of him. He’s eleven and has his mother’s hair.
Noah bites into a muffin, crumbs flying out everywhere as he sits in the same love seat as his mom.
Emma tsks. “There are plates right on the table.”
He reaches for one. “Sorry, Ma.”
“Please don’t judge me based on this animal I raised. You’d think he was raised by wolves.”
I laugh. “I think he’s sweet. I’m happy to have a brother.” Here I thought I’d never have a biological sibling after finding out that Robby and I weren’t related, but here I am in the same room with one.
“See, Ma?” He chews, crumbs stuck to his teeth. “Sweet.”
She rolls her eyes on a laugh. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
“Fiiine!” He gets up, and they leave me with Dad and Matteo.
Once they’re out of sight, Dad sighs. “Your mom is gone, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, she’s gone.” The heartache, it catches me again, and I miss her even though I don’t really remember her.
“I tried so hard to find you two.” He faces me, leaving the album on his lap.
“But there were no cameras that caught what happened. Nothing to go on, the cops said. Just Mom’s car with no fingerprints besides hers.
” He places both of his palms on mine. “What happened to you, sweetheart? Who took you?”
“Believe me, you don’t want to hear that. It’s enough to know we were taken by very bad people, who did very bad things.”
With those simple words, he breaks down, his body rocking with a deepened cry, a hand covering his face while the other is still holding on to me—the daughter he lost but the one who found him.
After a few more moments, he clears his throat and wipes at his eyes. “I’m so sorry.” He sniffles. “We have to report this to the police.”
“We can’t, Da-Dad,” I breathe, swallowing the nerves lodged in my throat.
He seems to like me calling him that because his face brightens.
“The mob is involved, sir,” Matteo explains. “It’d be too dangerous. But we took care of it. It’s over.”
He shakes his head with disgust, his expression hardening with a loud exhale, and he’s not a hard man to begin with. “I wish there was something, anything I could do.”
“Just finding you is enough, Dad.” My tearful words echo into his heart, mirroring our pain reflected in his eyes.
When we first came inside, we told them who we were, and that Matteo’s brothers helped us find him. I didn’t want to say too much with Noah there, and I think that’s why Emma took him away. She knew we needed the time to speak openly.
“So, Emma knows everything about Mom and me?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah, I had told her fairly quickly once we met years after you two were gone. I was so heartbroken, just a wreck…” His face falls.
“She found me drunk in a bar, to the point I couldn’t even walk.
She made sure I got home safe.” He nods slowly.
“I did that a lot back then. You know? She helped me cope.”
“I’m sorry.” My brows bunch.
He pats my hand, his eyes that of a broken man, bruised by the loss he’s had to endure. “You and your mom, that’s who I’m sorry for.” A defeated sigh falls out of him. “I’ll always love your mom. She was a wonderful woman, and she loved you very much.”
“Thanks for that, and for these pictures.” I can’t manage to stop smiling. “You sure I’m allowed to keep them?”
“Oh, yeah. They’re yours.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “You think you could come by tomorrow too?”
“Yeah, Dad…” I throw my arms around him. “I’d love that.”
“Good. Good.” He squeezes me tight. “Oh, I just remembered.” He grins as he pitches back. “I’ve got some videos of you and your mom that you just have to see! Give me a minute to get them.” He stands, clapping his hands. “Don’t go, okay?” He observes me nervously.
“I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He exhales hard and fast, like an invisible weight lifting off his shoulders, then he turns and walks out of the room.
“Told you he’d love you,” Matteo says, his eyes radiating through me. “You look happy, Aida.”
I slide my hand over, my fingertips flirting with his, and with a deep look into his eyes, I confess something I never thought I would. “I think I am, Matteo. I think I’m finally happy.”