Chapter 45
Sol
“What do you think?” Max juts his chin to the building in front of us. My steps are too slow. I’m ready to have these babies already. I slide my arm around his middle, and he drapes his long, muscular arm over my shoulder.
“It’s perfect. You found a great location.” It’s a great place for a boxing gym. I’m so excited for him. He’s certainly made a name for himself, and I’m eager to see where the next years bring him.
“Next week, we sign, and it’s ours,” he says, dropping a kiss on my head.
“Have you decided on a name?”
“Cano’s Boxing Gym.” He lifts a shoulder. “It’s probably not the most original, but I can’t think of anything else right now.”
“I like it. Especially since many people already know you. It will get you a lot of students.” He’s had more and more fans approach him now that the fight is less than two weeks away.
He always gives me the panicked look when it’s a woman asking for a photo.
I simply nod, letting him know it’s okay.
At times, Max will just reach for me to take a photo with him. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, but we did this together, you and I.” This man always has to include me.
Getting on my tiptoes, I pucker up my lips.
Max bends to my height to kiss me. The kiss is short but sweet.
It’s been two weeks since we got married and since we locked ourselves in the penthouse suite.
The entire time was spent tangled between the bedsheets, and I would fall asleep right after, which would only last an hour, if that, when the twins would start wrestling in the womb.
Then back to Max’s lips all over my body. It was a week to remember.
“You don’t need to give me credit. It was all you. I’ve been your cheerleader the entire time.”
“You’re wrong. It’s you who is not giving yourself credit. We have been a team since the beginning.” He taps my nose. “What’s mine is yours, remember?”
“Okay, but it goes both ways.”
“Fine,” my husband says, his lip curling into a smile. It’s one of those smiles that says, “The café is all yours.” It truly isn’t; he’s put money and time into it. Especially with the remodel.
“Are you ready?” Max’s voice is soft and gentle.
A whoosh of air exhales from my lungs. Am I ready?
My husband palms both hands on each side of my cheeks. “I’ll be right next to you if you need me to be. You’ll never be alone.”
“I know,” I say. Max is one in a million.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a random number. I answer anyway.
“Hello.”
A pause.
“Hello.”
“Sweetheart. Please don’t hang up on me.” Dad…
“What can I help you with?”
His eyes narrow. I lift my hand, gesturing for him to wait before he takes the phone.
“You don’t have to say anything. Please just listen. I wanted to see if you were okay…at the gala…I wanted to let you know I overheard Carlos…” Rowan pauses. “I know it doesn’t matter now that he’s dead. But I wanted to warn you he was up to something.”
The volume is loud enough for Max to hear. We both stare at one another.
“I’ve made mistakes that have caused me everything. If I could go back in time, I would change things.” He sighs. A woman shouts for him in the background. The voice sounds like the same woman he left his family for.
I shake my head. “Goodbye, Rowan. You don’t need to be in my life, but if you’re going to be in Bethany’s life, set a good example, or it’s best you stay out of her life.” I click the line, bringing the phone to my chest.
Max furrows his brows, just as confused as I am. “What the fuck?”
“Maybe I should have heard him out at the gala.” Would it have saved Leo?
Max opens the car door. “Nope. Don’t go there.
You’re only going to make yourself crazy.
” He shuts the door and goes around getting in.
“He’s nothing but a bloodsucker, feeding off people.
We don’t know if he was trying to bullshit us at the gala.
Come on, baby, you heard his bitch on the line.
He hasn’t changed. He obviously is still making deals with Daniel if he overheard shit with Carlos. ”
I groan. “I know.” Ugh. “Let’s just forget he called.” Talking to him and hearing his voice didn’t give me that feeling of longing to speak with my father. It was like talking to a stranger. I’m grateful for the love they showed me. It was a different type of love.
We drive up the gravel road that leads to the cemetery, tires crunching over loose rocks. I realize this is the same cemetery where Leo is. “This is…”
Max nods. “It is. I didn’t tell you your parents were here because, for one, we were here for Leo, and also because I wanted you to be ready and not pressured.”
I appreciate his thoughtfulness. I’ve been ready to come see my parents, but so much has happened.
With all honesty, it has been a little hard for me to visit their grave.
Only those who’ve been in the same shoes will understand.
I spent half of my life literally in another life.
I know none of this is my fault, but it just feels like I’m meeting them for the first time.
The family tree online has helped me learn more about my parents and the cousin I found. I even called her.
A gust of wind passes us, the pine trees swaying beside us. “You know where they are buried?” I ask. He’s walking like he knows exactly where he’s going.
“When I learned what cemetery they were at, I walked every stone until I found them for you.” His fingers tangle in mine as we walk the grassy path. His consistent generosity melts something deep inside me, turning my resolve to warm honey.
I yank his arm back, stopping him. His brows dip. “Are you okay—?” My lips slant on his sexy mouth, parted, ready for my tongue to meet his. It’s short and passionate, with the words, “We’ll finish this later,” hanging in the air between us.
My husband blinks, focusing his fiery gaze on me. He runs the pad of his thumb on his bottom lip, which I had just ravaged and bruised. “That was—”
He blinks.
“Thank you for doing this for me.” We weren’t together when he did this.
He always… “You never let me down. You always show up for me. I once thought I didn’t deserve you, but now?
” My fingers graze his sharp jawline. His beard prickles under my warm flesh.
“You’re precious to me. You love me, show me how much with kindness, loyalty, respect, and faithfulness.
You listen to me, and you never judge me.
I want to be that person for you because you deserve it.
God, Max, you deserve to be showered with love, and I want to be that woman for you.
I wish every man out there were just like you.
Every woman deserves to be loved unconditionally.
” I shake my head. “The way you look at me every day with new eyes. I want women to have that with someone. I’m selfish.
I’ll never give you up because I deserve to be loved.
I deserve you…” My voice trembles. “I know my worth, Max, because you’ve shown me.
I’m in love with you, Max Cano. I can’t wait for our kids to meet you. You’re going to be an amazing father.”
My husband’s mouth unhinges, and his eyes are glassy.
God, I should have said this in my wedding vows.
Those dark green irises drink me in. He takes a breath that makes my skin tingle.
I know whatever is going to come out of this man’s lips is going to make my heart flutter.
Anyone who sees Max would never think a broody man could be so gentle and loving.
It’s me who gets to see this side of him.
“Mi vida, you’re right. You deserve to be loved and happy.
We both do. My joy is having you. I know what life is like without a little money, food, and no shelter.
I also know what life is like without you.
I can handle not having food, money, and shelter, but not having you in it… ? I can’t. You’re my way of breathing.”
The things I want to do to him… I knew he would whisper sweet nothings.
He laughs. “We should have had this talk at home because the things I want to say and do to you are very inappropriate. Your parents are probably rolling in their graves right now.” He glances behind him.
My heart thunders against my ribs as my legs move of their own accord, bringing me to move behind Max. I stare at the polished headstone: In loving memory of Lisa and Alejandro Mendoza. Next to it lies a smaller stone plaque, the words, Beloved Josefina Martinez etched into its surface. Abuela.
“I guess they heard my declaration of love for you.” I laugh faintly.
“At least they know their daughter is loved.” He’s right. The palm of his hand strokes the back of my head. “I’ll be right back.”
Gripping his biceps, I shake my head. “No, stay.” My voice comes out urgently.
“I’m only going to the car to get a chair for you.”
“A chair?” He brought a chair? Of course he did.
“You can’t exactly sit on the ground.”
It would take me a year to get up. I swear he thinks of everything. He jogs to the car, pops the trunk, and jogs back with a folding chair.
“Here, so you can be comfortable.” He unfolds it.
I sit my big ass on it and exhale. These kids need to pop out already.
Max’s large hands knead my shoulders from behind, working through the knots of tension.
I find myself absently rubbing my belly as I begin.
“Hi, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to find my way back.
” The words tumble out—meeting Max at the foster home, the adoption, the years between.
I tell them I survived, that I thrived even, despite the lies and secrets.
No one had hurt me, at least not physically.
When I speak of Max, what he’s become to me, my voice wavers.
Tears stream down my face throughout, but Max remains steady behind me, silent and strong, his presence more reassuring than any words could be.
My therapist promised that the visit to my parents’ grave would help.
She was right. It did. I’m no longer a stranger to myself.