Page 115 of Wicked Savage Cruel
“Fuck that. Tell me the truth. Is. He. Mine?” I nod, and Emilio shrugs Dominique off again, his movements sharp as he begins to pace. “She kept my kid from me. My son.” He slaps a hand over his chest. “My son.” His jaw clenches. “What the fuck, Bibiana? What did I ever do to you to warrant that? Huh? Am I not good enough?” His voice rises with each word until he’s practically shouting at me, and all I can do is stand there knowing I deserve his anger. His rage.
Luis’s crying increases at Emilio’s harsh tone, and a silent tear slips past my defenses to trek down my cheek. This isn’t how I wanted this to go. None of this is what I wanted.
“Emilio—” Dominique tries again. He flicks his gaze toward me. “Maybe you should—”
“No.” He shakes his head, anger etched into every line of his body. “Give me my son.” Emilio holds his arms out but I take an involuntary step back.
His eyes blaze. “Let me hold my son, Bibiana,” he spits out my name with so much venom, I visibly shudder but manage to stand my ground and shake my head.
“You’re angry.”
“You would be too,” he snaps.
I rock Luis in my arms, running my hand over the back of his head in a soothing gesture as I struggle to remain calm. “I know. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be. But you’re angry and right now, you’re scary.” Really fucking scary. I don’t think Emilio would hurt me or Luis, but seeing him like this, it’s unnerving to say the least. “I’m sorry. But I’m not handing him to you. Not like this.”
I sway my body side to side and Luis’s cries finally stop. He sniffles a few times before his head rests against my shoulder. Exhaustion finally taking hold. When his eyes close, I release a small sigh of relief and turn back to the angry boy before me. Emilio’s entire body is taught like a bow string. I can tell he wants to argue but instead he gives me a stiff nod. He heads to the sofa and sits down, bowing his head and running his hands through his dark brown hair. His shoulders slump in defeat, and so many emotions run through me. Sorrow. Pain. Regret. I chance a look in Dominique’s direction, but instead of finding anger or disgust like I expect, I find resignation. I’m not sure that is any better.
“This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” I say the words in little more than a whisper.
“I’m sure you had your reasons for not telling him.” Dominique chimes in, not bothering to lower his voice, ensuring Emilio hears his words. “I can’t imagine being a single mom is easy. You’ve had to make some tough decisions. Sometimes they’re good ones. Other times maybe they’re not.”
I nod, worrying my lower lip. This obviously wasn’t one of my better ones.
“But, I can see you love that little boy.” He tilts his chin toward his friend. “Do right by him and give Emilio a chance to love him too.”
It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I didn’t mean to keep Luis a secret. I wanted to tell him. It just never seemed like the right time. I’m so angry with myself for letting this happen. For letting it come out like this.
Dominique tosses his keys beside Emilio and heads to the door. “I’ll catch a ride with Aaron. Call me if you need anything. We’ll fill you in later when you have time.” Emilio doesn’t respond, not that Dominique waits for him to.
When the door closes behind him, I stand there for a few moments, almost afraid to move, before I muster up the courage to say, “I’m going to lay him down in his crib. If …” I take a deep breath. “If you’re still here when I come back and you want to talk, we can do that.”
He doesn’t answer, so I head upstairs and gently lay Luis down in his crib before slipping into the bathroom. My cheeks are red and blotchy, my eyeliner smudged beneath my eyes and the small wing at the corners long since rubbed away. I wash away the emotions of today and go back downstairs, almost surprised to find Emilio in the exact same spot I left him in.
A part of me was sure he would have left. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he chose to stay.
When he hears me enter the room, he lifts his head and I freeze. Grief stands out in sharp relief across his face, and it twists me up inside to see him like this.
I sink down on the bottom step of the staircase, wrapping my arms around my knees. I don’t know what to say, or if I should even say anything at all. So, I wait. Seconds tick by, turning into minutes as we stare at one another. I hope he can see how sorry I am. That my eyes can convey what my words have failed to give him.
When a full five minutes passes, he shakes his head and stands up, but he doesn’t go anywhere. He just…stands there. The anger has drained out from his body, leaving behind a boy who looks lost and alone. Broken. And I’m responsible for that.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him sooner,” I say, my words whispered.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asks. “If I hadn’t found out today, would you have ever said anything?” His words are equally quiet as though he’s afraid of the answer.
I push to my feet and move closer to him. “I wanted to tell you the first day I saw you. I had every intention of letting you know right away but…” I bite my lip and Emilio tilts his head back staring at the ceiling. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows.
“But then you heard about my reputation.” I exhales a harsh breath. “And then I finger-fucked you in a classroom. Fuck.”
He reaches out and jerks me to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a fierce embrace. “I’m so fucking mad at you for keeping him from me,” he says into my hair and I tentatively wrap my arms around his waist. I have no idea why he’s holding me like this, but I don’t really care. I need this. Need the contact. I need to feel like things will be okay. That he isn’t going to hate me forever.
“You should have told me. I don’t give a fuck about everything else. You should have told me right away.”
“It’s only been—” He cuts me off, his body trembling beneath my hold.
“A week, Bibiana. It’s been a week that you’ve been here. That’s a week I can’t get back. A week of not knowing I had a son and of him not knowing me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, because he’s right. If roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way.
