Page 92 of Unbreakable Thread

“They had ordered pizza before you two arrived. I’m not too hungry. You need to eat. When Marabel was pregnant with Max, her cravings would hit at all hours. One in particular is chilaquiles.”

The mention of my mom hits hard. It squeezes my heart. It’s been years since he’s spoken her name. I don’t know how or what Sol did to get him help. It only makes me love her more. I brush my thumb along her soft skin.

She gasps, her hand going to her chest. “What a coincidence, those have been my absolute favorites. I crave those with an egg. I’m sure she passed it on to Max because, considering how I was raised, I hardly had them. And now, out of the blue, the craving hit. The baby must have Max’s strong genes.” She lets go of my hand and tugs her sweater off. “Finally, I can take this off. My armpits were getting sweaty,” she mumbles and leans back in her seat. Her hand goes back on my thigh for me to take.

My dad laughs.

I glance at the rearview mirror. My father is watching Sol talking with his hands about something, that smile still on his face. The kind of smile I’d spent nineteen years not seeing. I look back at the road before he catches me looking. He said grandchild earlier, and that tells me he wants to be part of our family’s life. Our baby couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. It’s just what we all needed—healing. I know this baby will give us just that.

We finally make it to Sol’s place to get her clothes and pick up Daisy. My dad waits while we go gather some of her stuff. “Just get what you need for the week, and then we’ll figure out what to do with the rest. You still have the majority of your stuff at our home.”

She gives me a nod, and when she’s done, I take her luggage and carry it out. Daisy follows behind us.

In less than ten minutes, we arrive at our house. My dad steps out and pulls Sol’s luggage and his own from the truck bed. He stares at the home I’ve worked my ass off to earn. “You have a beautiful home, Maximiliano. I’m very proud.” His voice lands like stepping on broken glass.

I’m not accustomed to his praises nor the shakiness in his voice. It will take some time to become used to the new Hector Cano.

“This is your room.” I guide him into the bedroom downstairs. There’s only a bed, a dresser for his clothes, and a nightstand.

“Thank you. I know I don’t deserve your hospitality, but once I get myself together and find a job, I’ll move back home.”

“Stay as long as you’d like. I think it’s best you do it until you are strong enough not to go back to old habits. I was thinking maybe it’s time you sell the house. Start fresh. When you’re ready, we can clean it up.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, the motion pulling his shirt tight across his newly developed biceps. “I’d like that. A fresh start.” He nods. Standing eye to eye, with me, his face softens into a look that makes something unclench in my chest. The smile on his face gives me hope and a sense of peace for the first time in years.

Awkwardly, I say, “I’ll get you a TV for your room tomorrow. Make yourself at home. Eat what you’d like. Cook whatever you want. The remote is on the living room coffee table.”

“Thank you, son.”

I hand him the noise-canceling headphones. “You might need these at some point. They’re Bluetooth; connect them to your phone.” I don’t even know if he knows what that is.

His body shakes with laughter as he waves them at me. “I’ll figure it out.”

“If you hear us shouting, you don’t have to rescue her. I’d never hurt her.” I know my dad has developed a soft spot for Sol.

“I know, Max. You love her like I loved your mother. And she loves you. She proved it when she stepped on my doorstep with a baseball bat, ready to beat the shit out of me.”

“She did?” I laugh, surprised and proud of her.

“Oh, she did. It’s best to stay on her good side,” he suggests, setting his luggage on the bed. “I’m going to bed early. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m beat.”

Before walking out, I say, “You look good, Pops. Keep it up.” The word feels strange in my mouth. Right, but strange. I turn to head up the stairs to Sol.

Opening the bedroom door, I slip off my shoes and place them in the closet, where Sol is already hanging her clothes. She doesn’t look my way. I wrap one arm around her middle, bringing her to my chest. Her loose blouse falls to the side, leaving her shoulder bare. The softness of her skin against my lips as I kiss my way up to the curve of her neck sends a rush of blood to my groin. Goosebumps scatter at my touch. “How far along are you?” I ask, my voice a whisper to her ear.

“Close to four months.”

She was pregnant when she left. Gently, I spin her around. “When did you find out?”

“I was ten weeks when I went to my first doctor’s appointment. That’s two months.”

A flash of outrage flares through me. “You figured you were pregnant, made an appointment, and didn’t include me? Three months have passed, and you still haven’t bothered to let me know I’m going to be a father.” I point to my chest, following her out of the walk-in closet. “Did you just not want me involved!?”

Anger whips over her face. “You would have found out if you answered my damn calls!” Her sharp nails are digging into my chest. “I called the day of my appointment. No answer... The night you were out at the ball with that bitch and Carlos, or whoever went. You were too busy to pick up. Not even bothering to call back.” She heaves, walking back and forth.

I haven’t received one call from her. “Don’t lie to me. You know I would always answer you in a heartbeat.”

“I thought the same thing. Then it all made sense that you didn’t have the time for me.”