CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
And somehow I've never felt more alone.
I close my eyes.
But all I see is the look on Rafaelle’s face when I told him to let me go. He opened his heart and I trampled on it.
I know he’s never going to forgive me. Which is fine.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.
* * *
My knuckles barely touch the door before it swings open. My mother freezes.
For a second, neither of us moves. Then relief crashes across her face so quickly it almost steals my breath.
"Liliana."
My name comes out shaky. Like she'd been holding it inside for days. I barely have time to smile before her gaze shifts over my shoulder. To the black cars and the men standing beside them.
The weapons they aren't bothering to hide.
I watch as the relief in her expression vanishes immediately, replaced by alarm.
Then anger.
"What have you gotten yourself into, Liliana?"
A soft sigh escapes me, “Hello to you too, mama."
"What is going on? Who are those men?" she questions frantically.
I don't answer.
I can't. At least not yet. There's only one thing I care about right now. She was at the forefront of my mind the entire ride over here. My skin tingling at the thought of getting to her.
"Mila?"
My mother's expression softens slightly.
"She's sleeping."
I don't wait for anything else. I brush past the doorway and step inside the house. The smell of home momentarily makes me feel dizzy. Of all the places I’ve been at, my childhood home still provokes the most belonging.
That and the bed of an Italian mobster.
I move quickly past the kitchen, straight toward the small bedroom in the corner. The door is already cracked open.
I push it gently and my heart stops.
There she is. My little girl lies peacefully in her cot. One tiny fist tucked beneath her cheek, dark curls scattered across the mattress, long eyelashes resting against chubby cheeks.
For a moment I simply stare. Trying to convince myself she's real. Trying to make up for all the moments I missed. I could gorge on the sight of her.
My vision blurs.
"Mila,” the whisper barely leaves my lips.
As though sensing me, she stirs. Her tiny nose scrunches before her dark eyes blink open.
Dark eyes, so much like Rafaelle's that it hurts. She smiles up at me and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Hi baby,” I breathe, my voice clogged with emotion.
I reach for her immediately gathering her against my chest. She curls into me.
“God I missed you so much.”
The scent of baby shampoo fills my nose. Tiny hands grab at my shirt. Her little fingers wrapping around my hair like it always does.
My heart feels too big for my chest.
“I’m so sorry, my angel. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
She pats my cheek. Completely unconcerned with the fact that her mother is falling apart. All the tears I’ve been keeping away for weeks push to the surface. But I keep holding them in. I have no intention of alarming my baby.
I press my lips against her forehead. Then her cheeks. Then her curls. Unable to stop myself.
I don't know how long I stay there. Minutes. Hours.
Eventually my mother's voice reaches me from the doorway.
"Liliana."
The tension returns, causing my spine to straighten.
I shut my eyes briefly, knowing she deserves an explanation.
Keeping Mila securely in my arms. My mother watches me carefully.
"I'll ask again."
Her voice is quiet now.
"What have you done?"
I hesitate.
Where do I even start? The kidnapping? The cartel? The father neither of us expected to see again? The man I left behind? The man I betrayed?
“Let’s go take a seat, mama,” I murmur, carrying Mila out of the room.
We settle down on the couch and then I begin to speak. Knowing without a doubt that this is going to be an extremely hard conversation.
“Those bodyguards work for Ignacio Navarro, mama.”
Her face drains of color. And I feel my stomach drop at the expression on her face.
"You met your father? He found you?"
I nod. My mother swears softly in Spanish. She leans backward into her chair, seeming to have aged years in only a couple of seconds.
"No,” she says, mostly to herself.
"Mama-”
“How could this happen?” Her voice sharpens. "I spent years keeping you away from that world. From him and now it seems my every effort just led to further entrenchment. You were never supposed to meet your father again. He was never supposed to find you.”
“He probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gotten involved with the Vitales,” I say, feeling my throat tighten.
At the end of the day, this is all my fault. All my mistakes laid bare.
“What does that mean?”
“Mila’s father is a Vitale, mama,” I finally confess. “He’s a part of one of the biggest mafia organizations in the city. That’s why I ran away the first time.”
She already knew that. Guessed it. But her eyes shutter with pain nonetheless.
“He found me again and then his family used my existence against Ignacio. I’ve been with the Vitales all this while but yesterday they handed me over to my father.”
The last two words still feel foreign anytime they leave my lips. But I have a feeling Ignacio won’t be so patient and amiable if I insist on continuing to call him sir. I need to get used to it.
To the fact that I have a new family. And that I have a father as well.
“Your father?” my mother scoffs. “That man has contributed nothing to your life, you hear me, Liliana. Absolutely nothing!”
“That’s not his fault,” I state
Pain flashes across her face.
“So you think I did wrong? That I was wrong to have taken you away, hidden you and protected you?”
I shake my head, “No, mama. You did the right thing. I know that. I understand better than anyone why you made the choices you made. You were just trying to keep me safe. Ignacio understands too.”
My mother smiles sardonically, “You sound as if you trust that man, Liliana.”
“I don’t.”
That’s certainly the truth. But a part of me is holding out hope that my instincts concerning him are wrong. My mother nods satisfied with that reply.
“What is going to happen now?”
“We’re going to leave here and return to the city. And we’re going to try and be a family.”
“We?”
“Yes. You, me, Mila. I think we’ll be safe with Ignacio. He has promised that he means you no harm and from what I’ve been able to glean he wouldn’t hurt his flesh and blood.”
“You’re being na?ve. Ignacio is a dangerous man. If you think we will be safe with him, then I wonder if I raised you to be smart at all.”
The words crack like a whip.
“What do you want me to do, mother!” my voice rises. “I didn’t have much choice. It was either I went with him or Rafaelle. And I would have chosen Rafaelle in a heartbeat! But I can’t very well be with him after hurting him so much by keeping his daughter away from him.”
She cocks her head to the sight, observing my outburst.
“Rafaelle is Mila’s father?”
I don’t reply but my silence is answer enough. She exhales heavily.
"You care about him."
I still don't answer. Because if I do, I really will start crying. How could I even begin to explain what I feel for Rafaelle?
I always thought there were holes in his heart, waiting to be filled. But now that he’s so far out of my reach, I feel like there are screws puncturing my heart, trying to match the state of his.
My mother studies me. Then Mila. Then the armed men outside. And suddenly she looks tired.
Heartbreak in her expression.
"I wanted better for you." The words are soft.