Chapter 52 – thiago
Fifty-Two
thiago
Pai,
I think I'm falling in love with her.
Ihaven't said it out loud yet. I don't even know if I'm ready to. But I wake up thinking about her. I go to sleep wishing she were beside me. And in the middle of all this shit I've gotten myself into, she's become the one thing that feels right.
You'd probably tell me I already know what that means.
Maybe I do.
I stare at the words for a long moment before closing the notebook I left open on my nightstand for three days.
Admitting it to a page is one thing. Saying it to Remi is another.
I stumble into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. Lack of sleep is written all over me, which isn’t surprising, since I didn't get home until just before sunrise.
We were called in late last night for a downtown barricade.
A bomb threat and a handful of hostages turned what should’ve been a routine operation into an all-night ordeal.
I could’ve slept longer, but summer festivities are in full swing across the city, which means longer shifts, more overtime, and less time with Remi.
The commander being overseas is a welcome relief. Not having to answer to her directly for the next few days gives me some breathing room, even though I know it won't last.
As if thinking about Remi were enough to summon her, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. The ringtone I assigned to her number reaches me from the bedroom, and whatever exhaustion I felt a second ago takes a back seat.
I cross the room and grab my phone.
“Fera.”
She hesitates. “Did I wake you?” she asks, probably hearing the sleep still clinging to my voice.
“No, you didn't. I was already up.” I smile. “And even if I hadn’t been, I would've answered. Every time.”
“Shit. I should’ve waited a little longer. You said you’d be getting home late. I’m sorry, I—”
“Remi,” I interrupt gently. “If it’s you calling, I’m answering. So stop apologizing.”
She laughs. “Okay, okay.”
The distant hum of traffic filters through the speaker, then the heavy thud of a car door closing.
“Are you downstairs?” I ask, suddenly wishing she was.
Fuck sleep.
“No, but I’m calling to invite you over. Zara’s at this summer dance intensive, and I just got a call that she needs to be picked up. Aunt Athena’s still a couple of hours away, and Matteo and Santino are tied up.” Her voice softens. “I know she’d love to see you.”
I haven’t seen that little girl since the day I pulled her out of that building, the same day she watched an integral part of her family die.
“I’d like that.”
“Good. She’s asked about you.” I can hear the smile in Remi’s voice. “She even asked whether I’d kissed you again.”
“Did she? That’s a dangerous question.”
“Indeed, it is.”
I head for the shower, already thinking about how quickly I can get out the door. “There’s an ice cream shop two blocks from your place,” I say. “It’s the one with the pink sign out front. Meet me there after you pick her up.”
“Oh, you’re bringing out the big guns, huh?”
“As long as you’re impressed.”
“Anyone who goes out of their way to put a smile on my Zara’s face is a keeper.”
“Good to know. I’ll see you then.”
I’m about to hang up when another question pops into my head. “Remi, wait.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”
“Coffee Oreo,” she says without hesitation.
I blink. “Coffee...Oreo? That’s a thing?”
“Yes, it’s a thing. Andretti’s downtown.”
“Then that’s where we’ll meet.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end.
“You’re cute, Braga.”
Before I can respond, she hangs up. I stare at my phone and shake my head.
Fuck, I’ve got it bad.
I grab a table by the window and keep an eye on the sidewalk as I wait for Remi and that pretty little head of curls to come into view. The shop isn’t too crowded yet, but the heat outside has drawn more people in over the past few minutes, so I’m glad I got here early.
It isn’t long before I spot them as they round the corner, hand in hand.
I can tell something’s off with Zara. She doesn’t have her usual bounce, and when Remi points toward the ice cream shop, Zara barely reacts, offering a slight shrug as they continue toward the entrance.
The bell chimes when they step inside.
Remi spots me immediately, but my attention remains on Zara. She keeps her head down until Remi gives her a gentle nudge.
When those big brown eyes finally lift to mine, her entire face brightens.
“Officer Thiago,” she says. “You’re Remi’s surprise?”
“I guess I am.” I push away from the table, walk over to them, and lean down to steal a quick kiss from my girl. When I pull away, Zara’s eyes widen.
“You have been kissing him.”
Remi and I look at each other, neither of us bothering to answer as Zara darts toward the display case, suddenly determined to inspect every flavor.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
Remi watches her for a moment. “There was an incident at dance today involving another little girl. Zara wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, so all we have is the other side of the story.”
“Which is?”
“She clocked the girl with her dance bag, and they kicked her out of the intensive program.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Her attention remains on Zara. “Seeing her cry broke me. Girls can be cruel, even at that age. But Zara…she isn’t. Whatever happened, I know she didn’t start it. And it took everything I had not to go back in there and demand more answers.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because she asked me not to.” Remi looks at me. “So I’m giving her time.”
“Then let’s make her day a little better,” I say. “And yours. Let’s get you that weird-ass ice cream.”
She shakes her head, but some of the worry leaves her expression. “Another reason to hate you, Braga.”
I grin. “Hate me harder.”
“Hold still, Officer Thiago. I’m almost done.”
I do my best to obey, even as my neck protests the angle Zara has me bent into. Standing behind me on Remi’s couch, she divides my hair into yet another tiny ponytail while Remi watches from across the room.
I’m fairly certain I look ridiculous, and the amusement on Remi’s face confirms it.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Oh, absolutely.” She grins. “I’m never letting you live this down.”
After several more gentle tugs and two final ponytails, Zara pats the top of my head.
“All done,” she announces proudly. “What do you think?”
I cross my eyes, trying to focus on one of the tiny curls that dangle over my forehead.
The moment I saw Zara walk out with a hairbrush, a spray bottle, and a tub of gel, I knew they weren’t meant for her. All it took was one flutter of those big brown eyes and the sweetest little “please,” and I was a goner.
“How bad is it?” I ask, twirling the curl with my finger.
Remi immediately lifts her phone and snaps a picture before I can stop her.
My jaw drops. “Remi.”
She ignores me and takes another. “For legal reasons, I have to preserve the evidence.”
That sends Zara into hysterics, and she nearly tumbles off the couch. I catch her by the arm before she falls.
“Careful, princesinha.”
Her eyes widen at the sudden scare, but once she realizes she’s okay, she beams up at me. “Thanks, Officer Thiago.”
“Anytime.”
Zara suddenly perks up. “Wait! I want a picture too.”
She hops off the couch and disappears down the hallway.
“What is she doing?” I ask.
Remi shrugs. “With Zara, your guess is as good as mine.”
A few seconds later, she comes running back, a little blue Polaroid camera clutched in both hands.
“I got this for my birthday.” She holds it up proudly. “We need one of all three of us.”
“Absolutely not.” I point to my hair. “Not like this.”
“That’s exactly why we need one,” Remi says.
Zara climbs back onto the couch, wedges herself between us, and hands the camera to Remi. “Come on, Officer Thiago.”
I look at the two of them tucked against me and accept that I never stood a chance. “Fine.”
Remi stretches her arm out, the camera pointed toward us. “Everybody smile.”
Zara throws one arm around my neck and the other around Remi’s as the flash goes off. The little square slides from the bottom of the camera, and Zara snatches it before Remi can.
“Don’t shake it,” Remi tells her.
“I know.”
We watch as the picture slowly develops. My hair looks fucking ridiculous. Zara’s grinning from ear to ear between us, and Remi has her head tilted toward Zara’s, smiling at the camera.
I should hate it, but instead, I can’t stop staring at it.
Zara jumps off, holding the photo to her chest. “I’m keeping this one.”
When I look up, Remi isn’t laughing anymore. She’s watching us with the faintest smile on her lips and a softness in her eyes I’ve only recently begun to notice. Reaching for my hand, she brushes her thumb over my knuckles.
Neither of us says anything. We don’t need to.
I look at Zara clutching the Polaroid to her chest, then back at Remi, and something about this moment gets to me. There’s nothing extraordinary about sitting on a couch with ponytails in my hair while a six-year-old admires her handiwork, but I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.
For years, being on my own never bothered me. I had my job, my apartment, and a life I’d built for myself. I never thought anything was missing until Remi came along and began filling spaces I hadn’t realized were empty.
Maybe that’s what this feeling is.
Belonging.
Before I can spend too much time thinking about what it means, Zara sets her camera down, climbs back onto the couch, and plops herself between us, blissfully unaware of what’s going through my head.
After all the running around, a few strands of her curls have come loose. She blows one out of her face with an exaggerated sigh.
“Zara?” Remi says, concern creeping into her voice as she reaches out and gently separates a lock of hair between her fingers. “What happened here?”
I look closer.
The front of Zara’s hair is choppy and uneven, where someone has clearly taken scissors to it. Remi crouches in front of her and takes both of her hands.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Zara lowers her eyes to their joined hands and sniffles.
“Greta Van Buren cut my hair.”
“Is she in your class?”
Zara nods.
“Baby, why did she do that?”
“She said it’s messy.” Zara’s voice grows smaller with each word. “And poofy. And weird.”
The change in Remi is almost imperceptible, but I catch it. Her jaw tightens, and something dark flashes in her eyes before she forces it back under control. She takes a slow breath and gently tilts Zara’s chin until their eyes meet.
“You know that was a mean thing to say and an even meaner thing to do.” Her voice is soft yet unwavering. “You also know you’re the prettiest, sweetest, most amazing little menace I’ve ever met.”
Zara grins and throws herself at Remi, wrapping her arms around her and sending them both tumbling onto the floor.
“I love my hair, Remi. It’s just like Mommy’s. And Daddy says she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Of course she is.” Remi brushes a curl from Zara’s face. “And so are you, from these beautiful curls all the way down to those chipped pink toenails.”
She tickles Zara’s sides until she squirms beneath her, filling the room with squeals. I watch them together, struck by how quickly Remi buried her own anger to ensure Zara never carried someone else’s cruelty as her own.
“Come on, menace. Your mom’s on her way. Let’s get you cleaned up. You still have ice cream on your leotard.”
Zara nods enthusiastically as they stand. “Officer Thiago,” she says, planting one hand on her hip and wagging a finger at me. “You better not ruin your hairdo.”
“Aw, come on, kid.”
She gives me a firm shake of her head before trotting down the hallway.
Remi passes me with obvious amusement, but I catch her wrist and pull her onto my lap before she gets far.
“I’m glad you find this amusing, fera.” I kiss her slowly, catching her bottom lip between my teeth.
“It’s the hottest I’ve ever seen you,” she murmurs, tilting her chin for another kiss.
Before she can pull away, I tighten my arm around her waist.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“She will be. Once I explain everything to her mom, I’m hoping the school handles this the way they should.”
There’s something unspoken in her voice. I don’t know exactly what she’s thinking, but I know this much: Zara won’t have to face this alone. If I’ve learned anything about Remi and her family, it’s that when someone comes after one of their own, they don’t look the other way until it’s made right.
With one last kiss, I reluctantly let my girl go.
A few moments later, a knock at the door pulls me to my feet. I remember the tiny ponytails still covering my head and decide whoever is on the other side will have to deal with them.
“Braga,” Remi calls out from down the hall. “Get the door. It’s Athena.”
“On it.”
I know Remi’s building has security, and no one gets to her apartment without being cleared first, but the cop in me insists on checking the peephole anyway. The boyfriend in me does too.
Boyfriend.
We haven’t officially put a label on what we are, but the word comes surprisingly easily.
I look through the peephole and see the profile of a woman I don’t recognize. Athena and Santino Leone were on my list of people to research, but my attention has been elsewhere lately.
I unlock the door and pull it open, ready to finally meet Zara’s mother.
The moment Athena turns toward me, I stop. There’s something familiar about her face.
I know those eyes.
They’re older now, but there’s no mistaking them. I’ve seen the same ones on Matteo without ever making the connection, but this woman knew my father.
Her small gasp and the way her eyebrows draw together tell me she recognizes me too. She’s looking at the little boy she once knew, except that boy is standing in front of her as a man now.
“Thiago?” she whispers, taking a tentative step toward me.
Hearing my name in her voice strips away whatever doubt I had left. This is Athena, the woman I first met as a toddler in Miami, then years later in Rio. She was a friend of my father’s.
“Thiago, is it really you?” She takes another careful step. “What are you doing here?”
I back away from her, trying to make sense of something that shouldn’t be possible.
Athena is Zara’s and Matteo’s mother, which makes her Remi’s aunt.
“What...?” I shake my head. “This can’t be.”
“Mommy!” Zara races past me and throws herself into Athena’s arms. “Officer Thiago, look! This is my mom.”
I know, princesinha. I just don’t understand how.
Remi comes up beside me and gently touches my forearm. “Thiago, what’s wrong?”
I can’t bring myself to look at her.
My mind drags me back to Rio, to the day a woman took a grieving little boy for ice cream. She told me everything would be all right and promised she would check on me from time to time, but then she disappeared from my life.
Until now.
Athena’s gaze shifts between the two of us.
“How do you know each other?”
I finally look at Remi, and the concern in her eyes makes it even harder to get the words out.
“Baby, you’re scaring me.”
I swallow and force myself to say the one thing I can make sense of. “Athena knew my father.”