Page 130 of Unbreakable Thread

“I see you and the kids are already ganging up on me,” I smirk.

He opens the passenger door and gives me that look. The “I’ll get the door” look he always gives me. I would say it’s a control thing, but it’s not. He’s a complete gentleman. Max unbuckles me, then pushes the lever to move my seat back. My stomach is a lot rounder now. It’s like it grew overnight.

He helps me out, then unexpectedly, his lips devour mine in a short but passionate kiss that takes my breath away. “What…was that for?” I manage to say.

“I don’t need a reason to kiss you, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine, I thought my name was ‘whatever the fuck your name is.’”

He slaps my ass with one hand, then opens the door with the other. “Hey, I got tongue-tied. My life was flashing before my eyes.”

“Exagerado.”

“I don’t exaggerate,” Max exclaims, checking his phone that keeps buzzing with text messages.

“I made your life flash before your eyes last night.” I tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “When I was on my knees.”

The tip of his tongue swipes his top lip. “That you did.”

“See, now that’s worth dying for,” I joke, and he just laughs. “Table for two,” I tell the host.

Max groans. “Henry texted. There’s a gala fundraiser for Parkinson’s disease, open only to high-profile people. They will have a ring for amateur fights and dinner. I kinda have to go. Will you go with me? Be my date?”

“Of course, Max. I support you all the way.”

“Thank you, tesoro.”

“When is it?”

“In three weeks.”

What can possibly go wrong? Everything. It’s just a public appearance.

Chapter 38

Sol

“How’s everything going?” Mrs. Sanders asks. Max has been dropping me off for my sessions every week. Then Mrs. Sanders switched to every other week since I have been improving.

“Amazing. I’m so, so happy.” I sigh with a smile on my face.

“I’m glad to hear it, Sol.” She writes on her pad. “Tell me how you feel about your past now.”

“I’m slowly getting there. I stare at my photo album all the time. The one Max held for me from my birth parents. I hold on to the memories like a vice.”

“Do you still get flashbacks of memories?”

“Yes, every so often, something I do or say will trigger it. At times, they are overwhelming; at others, they are beautiful. I had one a while back of me playing with a young girl. I don’t know who she was. Maybe a friend or family.”

“Memories and flashbacks are something we all get. The other night, I was washing dishes, and something just popped into my head. It was a family trip when I was eight, I think. I had completely forgotten about it. The way the mind works is astonishing, but confusing.” Mrs. Sanders grins.

Mrs. Sanders met Max two weeks ago—just briefly, in the waiting room. She waggled her brows at me after. I didn’t mind.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Now, how about your adoptive parents? How do you see things now? Has your view of things changed?”

I take a moment to really think of this. To be honest, I haven’t thought of them. With everything going on—Carlos, mainly—he distracted my mind from them because I was so focused on looking over my shoulder and on the happiness of being pregnant and of Max and me being back together. I love every waking moment with him. Sometimes it feels too good to be true. Like happiness is something that can be taken from you without warning. I hate feeling that way. I want the ending we were promised. We’ve earned it, dammit.