Angel nods and heads for the kitchen. Ozzy and I float over to the ratty couch by the old-fashioned antenna-television in the corner of the little underground hideaway. Before I can blink, Angel’s collapsed down on the sofa beside me.
It almost feels like we’re a family.
Almost...
Oscar wriggles under my grip, reaching over to Angel and his bottle of formula. “Come here, buddy,” Angel calls. He reaches over, groaning as he shifts on the couch. I can hardly imagine how sore he must be from all of his fighting. I probably would be sore, too, if I could feel anything—but despite being with the two people I’ve yearned after most for the past two years, I feel numb.
Oscar squirms free from my grip and makes his way over to Angel. He doesn’t get far before Angel picks him up and whisks the little boy onto his lap. Oscar laughs with amusement—he may be small, but neither Lady or I have the strength to roughhouse with him like that; he seems to like it. Hell, he seems to like Angel.
... I guess that makes two of us.
“Come on, drink,” Angel insists, putting the bottle up to Oscar’s lips, but the stubborn boy isn’t having it. To me, it’s clear what he wants, but Angel doesn’t seem to catch onto it. So, I push him in the right direction.
“He wants you to lift him up again,” I say, resting my cheek against my palm. I watch my two boys, exhausted, but wearily content, as their eyes both light up at the same time.
Angel lifts Oscar above his head and Oscar screeches with glee. It’s funny, whenever I think of my son, I picture him as this fragile little seed, but in Angel’s hands, he looks anything but fragile—though, he does look even smaller than usual. Oscar might grow to be big someday, but right now, his daddy’s hands are long enough to wrap around him nearly twice over.
An unwelcome prick of dread pinches my heart at the thought of Oscar growing up. What kind of world are we creating for him? Is Angel serious about this revolution business, or was he just doing it to get me? What’s next? Will we even last that long?
I don’t ask any of those questions out loud, not yet. Instead, I just watch the two most important boys in my life as they make each other happy. The genuine smile on Angel’s rugged face is like nothing I’ve ever seen from him before.
His dimples are back in full force and sharper than I’ve ever seen. My heart flutters and butterflies flap around so hard in my stomach that I wonder if it was them who caused the hurricane-like winds at the wedding.
No, it couldn’t have been my butterflies. I didn’t know Angel was coming. My belly was filled only with dread, and nothing else.
I try not to think about the horror of what I just came from, or the terror of what’s to come. Right now, the three of us are safe. Right now, we’re a family.
17
Angel
I wake up on the couch with my head on Catalina’s lap and a baby boy in my arms—but he’s not just any baby boy; he’s my baby boy. Oscar Luis Alzate-Montoya. Future king.
His soft breaths lull me back to sleep, but before I can drift into dreamland a buzz comes from my pocket. I sigh, knowing that I can’t ignore the outside world for much longer, not if I want to preserve this slice of domestic bliss.
Cat shifts under my head and the memory of that night all those years ago, when I walked in on her cooking at my condo, hits me like a tidal wave. What I smelled wasn’t spaghetti sauce or pasta, I realize, it was this.
My phone doesn’t stop ringing for long enough to let me relax again. It keeps buzzing and I tighten my grip around Oscar, before slowly sitting up on the couch. I hand him to his half-asleep mother and she unconsciously cuddles him in her arms.
Lady’s resting over by a cot near the kitchen. I don’t want to wake anybody, so I step out into the dark dank tunnel to take my call.
“Where have you been!?” Juan immediately asks. His voice isn’t panicked, but it definitely isn’t calm either.
“With my family,” I respond.
That eases my advisor a little bit. “Good,” he sighs. “You’re all safe and unharmed?”
“Yeah.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a yawn. My muscles are sore, but the wounds on my hands seem to be healing well and my head is mostly clear, if not a little drowsy. “How’s everything with you?”
“Things are getting hectic, Angel,” Juan’s voice breaks just enough to snap me fully awake. This is serious. Juan isn’t easily shaken.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?” he replies. “Dante escaped the wedding, unharmed and absolutely furious. The fucking army was called in and it tore up Capital street with a fucking tank. Your revolutionaries sustained heavy casualties. I’m already worried about morale, but not nearly as worried as Dante’s retribution. For the first time ever, I was actually in the room when he spoke to this Enzo Barella fucker. He’s prodding Dante for a big response... a
very violent show of power.”
My fists clench and my heart slows. “What’s he going to do?” I knew Dante wouldn’t take this lying down, but I guess I allowed myself to get lost in another world for a little bit—now, reality is coming back to kick me in the ass.