Chapter 5
“...and they all lived happily ever after.”
Andre closed the book, then looked at the child lying in the bed, eyes closed, features relaxed in the innocent contentment of the young.
He felt as though he could stare forever, as always unable to believe that this small, infinitely precious little soul was partly his.
He gazed for several long moments, then sighed as he stood from the chair, placing the dog-eared copy of The Princess and the Parrot gently on the bedside table.
All around him were the treasures of a child’s life, the things he’d never been able to have when he was young.
The walls were hung with posters of cartoon rockets and trains; the shelves were filled with toys and games and books.
A toy box stood in one corner, overflowing with stuffed animals, toy trucks, and Lego pieces, which spilled out onto the carpet with the chaos that seemed to be part and parcel of the room of a small boy.
It was a happy room, one meant to foster security and happiness.
That at least he could provide, even when he felt like he could never do enough in other ways.
Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on Miguel’s forehead. The little boy stirred slightly, then his eyes cracked open. “Will we?” he asked drowsily, clutching a love-worn stuffed parrot more tightly against him.
“Will we what, mijo?” Andre kept his voice soft so as not to rouse the child too much, but he couldn’t resist stroking the soft, dark hair curling on the pillow.
“Live happily after.”
The trusting, childish question almost broke Andre’s heart, but he answered as truthfully as he could.
“As long as we have each other, you bet.”
That earned a smile, and Miguel’s eyes closed again. “‘Night, Daddy,” he murmured.
“Goodnight, mijo. I love you. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
He stood for several more moments until he was certain Miguel was asleep. Then he slipped silently from the room, feeling as though he were leaving a part of his heart behind.
As he closed the door, he heard quiet voices coming from the living room, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair before making his way along the hall toward them.
He hated leaving his son, but he also didn’t much care for the potential discussion that awaited him.
But it was inevitable, so he straightened his shoulders and entered the room.
Sibila glanced up at him from her position on the comfortable sofa, her lips pinched.
She was still a beautiful woman, with long black hair that spilled almost to her waist, golden skin, and huge dark eyes fringed with thick lashes.
As he returned her gaze levelly, he felt none of the desire that had seemed so desperate and immediate almost six years before, but she was the mother of his child, and he respected her for all she’d done for Miguel, even if the attraction had burned itself out as quickly as it had come.
“He’s asleep,” Andre said quietly.
Sibila nodded. “Good. I just hope he won’t cry in the morning when he realizes he doesn’t get to see you for a long time.” The words were designed to make him feel guilty, and unfortunately, they succeeded.
“Your tour starts tomorrow?”
Andre turned his attention from Sibila to her husband, Derek, who was obviously trying to forestall an argument.
Andre’s feelings for his son’s stepfather were complicated.
Derek was a likable man, even a kind one, and he treated Miguel with affection.
So much so that Miguel even called him “Papa,” which had given Andre a pang at first, but he’d learned to live with it.
He was jealous that Derek got to spend more time with Miguel than he himself did, but it wasn’t the man’s fault, after all.
Nor was it his fault that Sibila wanted Andre to give up all rights to his son so that Derek could adopt him, which was the basis of their current impasse.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m flying to Miami in the morning.”
“I hope it’s very successful for you. Your band is really incredible.”
Derek smiled, far more relaxed than his wife, and Andre knew the compliment was sincere.
For all that Sibila was pushing for the adoption, and Derek had been clear that he was willing, the older man hadn’t pushed, understanding and respecting Andre’s love for his son in a way his wife couldn’t seem to emulate.
He was a successful accountant and a natural peacekeeper, and since marrying Sibilia three years before, he’d often stepped in to moderate when necessary.
And unfortunately it had been necessary over the years, since Sibila was as stubborn as she was beautiful.
They’d both been eighteen when they’d hooked up, young and horny and, in retrospect, probably stupid as well.
It had been lust, not love, and in Andre’s case, he’d known it probably wasn’t sustainable.
Even though he was bi, he was far more attracted to men than to women, but Sibila had been so beautiful, he’d not been able to resist the attraction.
They’d met through mutual friends, spent only a weekend together at a house party someone had thrown at a relative’s beach house.
Andre had been trying to fit in with his improved circumstances after moving to San Diego, and he was giddy when his new, far more affluent friends had invited him to the post-graduation celebration.
He’d seen Sibila at his new school, but they’d had no classes together during the two years he’d attended.
She’d been one of the popular girls, and he couldn’t deny it had been flattering when she’d singled him out for her attention at the party.
He had been a band geek, counting himself lucky to finally have the resources at his disposal to indulge his passion for percussion, and his band director had claimed he was a natural on the drums. Andre had spent his junior and senior years playing as much as possible, even planning on attending college if he could manage to get a scholarship.
He had done so, a partial one to a local state school, and he’d been looking forward to getting even better at his chosen craft.
So it had been a shock to him when she’d contacted him two months later to tell him she was pregnant, but he’d never questioned his responsibility in the matter.
He might have had a rough upbringing, but his mother had made it clear she expected him to be better than his circumstances.
The lesson hadn’t always stuck when he’d been in his early teens, but he’d paid for those youthful mistakes and learned from them.
Sibila’s parents had disowned her, and she was Catholic enough that she refused to terminate her pregnancy.
For his part, Andre had never tried to convince her otherwise.
Instead, he’d stepped up, dropping out of college to accept a job with his uncle’s roofing company, which paid far better than he could have made otherwise.
He supported her throughout her pregnancy while they lived with his mother and sisters.
But she’d never bonded with them, and once Miguel had been born, she’d insisted that he rent them an apartment so they could be independent.
Andre had wanted to wait, to save more money to give them a cushion against emergencies, and she resented his hesitation.
That had been their first disagreement, and it was also the beginning of the end for their relationship.
Andre had been working as many hours as possible to support his small family, even though he hated the job.
But it had been obvious almost from the beginning that he and Sibila simply weren’t compatible as a couple.
They were too different, and Sibila resented every moment Andre took for performing with local bands when he could have been working.
But he couldn’t completely give up music; along with his son, it was what gave him happiness, as well as hope that things would improve for them all.
The acceptance of Luka’s offer to join the F-Holes, which he’d considered a triumph, had been the final straw.
Even after he capitulated and started renting an apartment for her and Miguel, it hadn’t been enough to save their relationship.
They’d split up, and Andre had moved to LA.
He still came back as often as he could to see his son.
He tried to be a good father and justified his time away building his career as an investment in not only his future but also Miguel’s.
He could do far more for his child with the money and health benefits in his contract, even if the price was missing out on moments of watching his son grow up.
Andre inclined his head at the compliment. “Thanks,” he said, then looked at his watch. “I need to get going, since I haven’t packed yet.” He made himself look at Sibila. “I’ll call every day.”
“Fine,” she replied, unappeased, then pointedly looked away. He gave an internal sigh, then walked to the door, Derek following him.
When they reached the foyer, Derek stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I’ll talk to her again,” he said quietly.
“I know she’s hard on you, but I’m also quite aware that you love Miguel deeply and want what’s best for him.
I think… I think she just had this dream of how her life would go, and it frustrates her that it hasn’t.
I think seeing you now living your own dream is what gets to her most.”
Andre’s own frustration faded a bit at Derek’s words, and he sighed. “Sometimes dreams have to change,” he said. He had some sympathy for Sibila, but he’d also made sacrifices, although maybe not as much for her, but for Miguel.
“Yes, they do,” Derek agreed. He seemed about to say more, but then he just shook his head. “Drive safely, and I’ll make sure you speak to Miguel as much as you’d like while you’re away.”