With a deep breath, Rafa made himself look up. His heart skipped as he saw the tears shining in his family’s eyes. In his mother’s eyes.
“But we argued with Dad about it,” Adriana said, sniffling. “Didn’t you know we would have had your back?”
“You guys were hardly ever here. I should have talked to you, but I was still afraid.”
Ramon was silent for a few long moments. “There have been many occasions when I’ve wished I could go back in time and change a decision I made, but none as much as I wish it now, Rafalito. I’m sorry.” He raised his hands. “I know that sounds hollow. Paltry. But I’m so sorry. I let the party pull my strings. I didn’t even believe a word I was saying. You know what I really think? The Bible is a storybook created by men, and used by men to further their selfish goals.”
“Ramon,” Camila murmured.
“Haven’t I bitten my tongue all these years? If I can’t be honest here with my family, then where?” He gazed at Rafa again. “I’m so very, very sorry.” He stood and circled the coffee table, pulling Rafa to his feet and into a rib-crushing hug. “You’re exactly who we want. Who you were meant to be.” He kissed Rafa’s head, and Rafa sniffled as his father held him.
“Anything to add, Mom?” Adriana asked sharply.
“Rafa knows I’m sorry.” Camila blinked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Of course I am.”
“Mom, we don’t always know,” Chris said quietly. “Sometimes it’s really nice to hear it.”
Camila stood, and Ashleigh did as well, scooting off to the side of the couch, saying, “I’m just gonna…”
Rafa turned from his father and into his mother’s arms
“I’m sorry, Rafael. I wanted what I thought was the best for you. It blinded me.” Camila leaned back and kissed his forehead. “When I thought I might have lost you… Rafa, nothing else matters as long as you’re healthy and happy. Nothing.”
“Even if I want to move to Australia and be a chef?”
She sighed and brushed back his loose curls. “If you must, my darling.”
“That’s as good a blessing as you’ll get, bro. Take the money and run,” Matthew said, popping a cookie into his mouth.
The thick tension broke, and it felt good to laugh. Even their mother smiled wryly. “You know I only want what’s best for you all.” Her smile faded. “I do realize I’m not the easiest person at times. But I love my family.”
“Of course we know,” Ramon murmured, kissing her cheek and sliding his arm around her shoulders. “Rafa, if cooking is your passion, then that is what you’ll do.” He cleared his throat. “But you will finish your degree at UVA first. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“Absolutely. I promise.” Rafa realized he was grinning. “Thank you.”
A quiet knock came from the door, and when Ramon called out to enter, his top aide stepped inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Sir, the media is growing extremely restless without a direct statement from you.”
“Yes, yes.” Ramon nodded.
“Is Rafael up to being on camera?”
The comforting warmth that had filled Rafa evaporated. “They want me to go on TV?”
“Are you kidding?” Adriana asked. “You’re the top news story around the world. President’s son kidnapped by apparent terrorists? The media’s losing its collective mind.”
He remembered what Ashleigh had said about cameras at the airport when she arrived, and his stomach twisted. “Oh. I really don’t…do I have to?”
“No,” his parents answered in unison.
Camila addressed the aide. “The president and I will make a statement in the Rose Garden. We’ll be down in two minutes for a briefing.”
With final hugs, his parents left, and Rafa flopped back down on the couch with Ashleigh beside him again. For a moment, he just sat there. “Wow. So that happened. God. I think I need a drink.”
“Hell yes you do.” Chris clapped his hands together while Hadley and Matthew laughed. “Baby brother, it is high time you got drunk at the White House. We’ll show you how it’s done. We’ve got your back.”
Laughing, Rafa nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“And ohhh, we need to talk about boys,” Adriana exclaimed. To Ashleigh, she added, “And girls. There is so much to catch up on!”
Rafa thought of Shane and blushed furiously. He couldn’t breathe a word of it yet, and he wouldn’t. But one day Shane wouldn’t be his agent, and he let himself imagine that he’d be so much more.
Chapter Eighteen
As the knock came again, Shane sighed and pulled a T-shirt over his head. His flannel pajama bottoms had a hole worn through in the ass, but whoever wanted to talk to him now could damn well deal with it. With his hand on the knob, he checked the peephole in case a reporter had gotten his address, which was only a matter of time.