Chapter 29 #2
My chest finally loosens. The silence after I left the gift on his desk had me convinced that he’d opened it and was furious, or worse, that it was still sitting there untouched.
I had no idea what I was going to say when I pulled up to his house, so it caught me off guard when he actually agreed to get in the car.
“I did cover it well, I guess. I just didn’t want you to find out like that. I wanted to sit and talk about it face to face, ya know?”
“I’m sorry. Starting today, we will be glued at the hip.” He laughs when my brows skyrocket. “I mean it.”
“I don’t think that will work out…but we can meet up.”
Max begins rocking my hips. “It will because I will drive you.”
I shake my head. “That’s not…” I moan when his thumb rubs me on my sensitive spot. “Necessary,” I say.
“I know it’s just that I’m going to have to have Johnny and Gary drive my dad around.
Right now, anything could trigger a craving for a drink.
I can’t have him home alone all day.” His hand slows down.
“I’m not trying to be controlling or anything like that.
” He pauses. “…it’s just that I can’t fathom something happening to you… like my mom…”
“I know,” I say softly.
“I’d never be the same person without you, but I’d never stop being a father to our kids.”
I know he’s not trying to be controlling. His mother’s death left a hole in his heart, especially because he witnessed it. “I understand, Max. But there will come a time when you will have to trust me. We can’t live in fear all our lives,” I say, my voice low.
“I know. After I teach you how to reverse, switch lanes while looking at your rearview mirror, and…” He puffs air. “There is a lot to teach you.”
I roll my eyes. How dramatic.
“Maybe, we need a full-time chauffeur,” he mumbles. Then we both sniff the air.
I roll off Max. “It smells good. Your dad must be cooking.” I’m not sure what he’s making, but my stomach growls. “Shit, what if he heard us?”
“Nah, I gave him noise-canceling headphones.”
I cover my face. “Oh God, how embarrassing. He must know.”
Max shrugs, getting off the bed. “He’s a grown-ass man. And he seems excited, I got you pregnant.”
Hector is thrilled, but I know Max is still on the fence about him. I’m sure it’s odd to see him now as a different person after so many years. The way it should have been. “He is,” I admit.
“Let’s just hope he keeps his shit together if he wants to be in our lives.”
I nod in understanding. I hope so too.
I follow him into the steamy shower. He suddenly starts laughing.
“What is it?” I ask, grinning, at how cute he looks. My heart melts all over again. He’s come a long way. He smiles more, laughs… He’s happy.
“I can’t believe you went to my dad’s with a baseball bat.”
“He told you?”
“Yup.” He reaches for shampoo. “That’s my girl. I’m proud of you, but how did you know the address? I know there’s Google and all.”
I lather bodywash on his chest. “Carlos gave it to me.”
He knits his brows together, and he thinks for like thirty seconds, then says, “Carlos doesn’t know where he lives.” The shampoo bottle is still in his hand. He hasn’t connected it yet.
What the fuck?
“Umm, what do you mean? You never gave him the address?”
“No.”
The water keeps running. Neither of us says anything for a moment. He squirts shampoo on my hair.
We chat about other things, but I can’t help but think that Carlos never went to see Hector to offer him help. Now that I know who Carlos really is, it’s not unbelievable.
The mingled aromas of fried eggs and spicy chili become more insistent with each creaking step we take down the staircase.
Max and I come to a halt. Hector stands in front of the stove, freshly showered in a clean shirt, hair combed, humming something low under his breath.
A towel drapes over his shoulder while he flips an egg.
The kitchen looks different with someone who’s not Max or me cooking.
Steam rolls off the pan. I look at Max. He hasn’t moved from the bottom step, almost as if a ghost is right in front of him, giving him childhood memories.
Daisy stands beside him, waiting for anything to drop.
Hector's head jolts up when Daisy spots us.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I say. Max echoes it behind me.
“I hope this is okay. I made breakfast…it was one of your favorites, Max.” Hector swallows. “Your mama loved to make chilaquiles for you,” he says, then looks toward me. “Since you said you craved it…I thought I’d make it for you two.”
I’m about to say thank you, but Max places his hands on the small of my back. “Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve had it. And Sol is hungry.” Max looks at me. “And our little tesoro is too.” Max winks at me.
Little tesoro, I repeat in my head.
Hector takes the plates out, but I reach my hand out. “Here, I’ll serve you two.”
“No, no, I’ve got this.”
I take the plates from him before he can argue.
“Oh, no.” I wave him off. “It would be my pleasure. You know, when I was a kid, my parents, my birth parents,” I clarify, reaching for the serving spoon.
“I remember my mom used to serve us. My dad was in the military, so when he was home, she wanted to cook for him and serve his food. She did it with pride and full of grace.” I spoon the chilaquiles carefully.
“It was her way of thanking him for all he did when he was gone. That was her man, and she wanted to feed him.” I smile, and so does Max.
I set the warm plate in front of Max. “So let me serve my man, and I’m happy to fix you a plate since you made this amazing breakfast.” I hand Hector his.
He thanks me and asks Max how to use the coffee maker. The food looks amazing as I fix my own plate. The red chilaquiles and egg on top of refried beans have my stomach growling louder.
When Max takes his first bite, he goes still. It’s like a memory hits him. He looks down at his plate. He doesn’t speak but forms a small smile. He hides it when Hector asks if we liked it. I respond by giving him a thumbs-up.
“Hit the spot. Just what I needed,” I say.
Hector turns his coffee cup in slow circles. Max stares at the window. Daisy waits for anything to drop on the floor to eat. Nobody speaks for a long moment, and somehow that was okay. It will take a long time for them to repair their relationship.
Max offers to help clean up, and I’m sure it’s to avoid conversations with his dad. Hector and I sit on the sofa talking about the appointments he has on Monday. It’s Sunday, and there’s not much to do today besides me checking on the café.
Ten minutes later, Max leaves to do something at the gym. He didn’t say what. Said he’d be right back. Hector leans back and takes a sip of his steaming coffee. “I’m guessing you haven’t said anything about Carlos to Max.”
I sigh. “No, we still have so much to talk about. My family history. And then there’s Carlos—I don’t even know how to bring him up without—”
Hector says the words that were already forming in my mind. “Max is too protective of him.”
“Yes…and that scares me. I’m terrified of what he might do. To me. My baby.”
Hector sets the mug down on the coffee table. “Why would he hurt… Wait, did something happen?”
Massaging my forehead, I remember I haven’t told him about what I overheard Carlos say to Leo. I tell Hector everything.
He stands and rubs his chin. His angry scowl matches the same ones his son usually has.
“This is not good. Max needs to know. He’ll believe anything you say.
Me, not so much. He has no reason to. I did see how protective he is of Carlos.
He sees him as a father.” Those last words sound like a breathless whisper. “I threw hints at him, but still.”
“The only thing that has kept me safe is Johnny and Gary protecting me. It’s like he sees Max as a price tag. But what I don’t get is why he hates me so much.”
“How many times had you met Carlos before he confronted you to stay away from Max?”
I think about it. “Twice. The first time I went to the gym, Max was not there. I asked him for your address.” Then I frown, remembering that Max said Carlos never knew his dad’s address.
“The second time, Max took me to their house, and they were very nice and welcoming. I don’t understand why I’m suddenly in the way. ”
Hector shakes his head, pacing up and down the living room.
“I think he feels you’re in the way because of me.
You’re a threat if you get me help since you went to the gym asking for my address,” he mumbles like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle I don’t understand.
“He wants me dead and out of Max’s life so he can control him with his father-figure bullshit. ”
I don’t think Hector realizes that Max is uncontrollable. What he is saying makes sense, but even then, Max doesn’t have a good relationship with his dad. Then I remember. “Carlos said he went to your house to get you help, but you were drunk.”
Hector laughs. “Him help me?” He points at his chest. “No, he brought me two twelve packs and two bottles of tequila. We got into a little scuffle. He took advantage. I was too drunk to fight back.”
I stop breathing for a second. He brought alcohol. To a man struggling with alcoholism. Knowing it would keep him down. Knowing it would keep him away from Max.
“He left a shiner on me,” Hector adds.
What the hell? Now I feel lightheaded. This keeps getting worse.
We both hear it at the same time. Three sharp knocks. Daisy’s ears are already up, and she shoots off the sofa. I peek through the peephole. My stomach drops. “It’s Carlos,” I say in a whisper, my heart pounding.