Page 52 of One Rule

Even when they moved him out of the mayoral estate, so Joseph Wilburn could settle in, I didn’t go. Couldn’t.

Instead, I let Micah and my mother handle it, and she herself seemed different after. Mom’s been nervous and antsy for a while now. It’s actually getting worse. She’s mentioned wanting to get away a few times now but hasn’t because at the time Lionel had not regained consciousness, yet now that he has, there’s nothing really stopping her. Not really.

I need to get away, Mamita. My heart isn’t here and I need to mend it. Make myself whole again, and one day soon you’ll understand why.

She said that to me more than a week ago, tears in her eyes and although I want to be mad at her for leaving again at a time like this, a part of me understands. He was my father, but that was her soul mate—and they never stopped loving each other.

Their divorce never quite made sense to me or anyone close to the family, but they went through with it never once being angry. No mudslinging. No outrageous demands. The entire ordeal was the most amicable thing I’ve ever seen—no bitterness, but full of hope—and it hurt them equally.

Mom wanted him to be around more, travel and enjoy their empty nesters stage in life.

Dad wanted to push his political career as far as he could without holding back.

There wasn’t a mistress or hatred, just two adults who drifted apart yet still adored each other. And it was because of that love that Celia Armas stepped aside so Joaquin Armas could fulfill his dreams without her holding him back, something my father was always aware of.

He never stopped trying to coax her back home.

She enjoyed those moments when his attention was solely focused on her.

But where did that leave me now? Sure, I could ask for her help—his passcode to everything has always been a combination between all three of our birthdays—and it’s usually in the order we were born in, from oldest to youngest, but involving her would be a mistake. The last thing I want is to put her in any kind of danger, but thereissomeone who could help me.

Grabbing my phone from beside me on the mattress, I open up my texts and send out a message to Micah.

Are you at the office today? ~ Rebel

Within seconds he reads it and three dots appear on my screen indicating he’s writing back.

All day. Why? Need me? ~ Captain Grumps

He has no idea how much I need him, all of him more than ever and it runs deeper than the sexual response he evokes in me. I’ve always loved him, that’s never gone away or dimmed, and right now that’s the only thing holding me up.

I want to be in his arms and find my peace. Need to feel more than this hollowness that’s taken over my soul.

Can I cash in last week’s rain check and swing by? I need to talk to you about something. ~ Rebel

For a beat, he doesn’t reply, but just says read beneath my last message, but then his reply comes in and my sad heart gives a soft, happy thump. And while he might not mean it the way I wish he did, reading it again has a smile tugging at my lips.

Come to me, sweetheart. I’m ready. -Captain Grumps

* * *

Royce Cruise Lineslooks exactly the same, and yet the moment I cross the lobby the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I’ve never felt unease here, but today I’m crawling with the need to turn around and walk right back out.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, accepting a greeting from the girl who works the lobby’s front desk. The wordcondolencesmeet my ears seconds after the call of my name and I give her the same appreciative nod I’ve become a professional at doing.

Head tilt. Sad smile. Slow blink.

It’s a combination people understand and it stops them from probing with the follow-up question ofHow are you holding up?

I truly despise that. There’s never going to be an answer of optimism or elation after losing someone you love, contrary to what my brother and Micah, or even Thiago thinks. That stab of sadness will always be there.

“Liliana, hey!” I’m stopped from reaching the elevators by a smiling Beverly, and I give her a slow blink. We haven’t interacted much after her demotion, her bitchiness isn’t my cup of tea, and I have no idea what on my face readsplease come talk to meat the moment. “I’m so sorry about—”

“Beverly, I’m really on a tight schedule and have Micah waiting for me. Can we continue this at another time?”

“I deserve that.” She doesn’t step aside, though. Instead, Beverly gets a little closer and gives my shoulder a squeeze while the happiness of a few minutes drops into an expression of sadness. “I’ve been an asshole to you, and I’d like to apologize. Can we talk for a minute? I promise it’ll be quick, but after what happened to your father…”

As she droned on, I stopped listening after she mentioned my father. No one outside of his closest knew about his passing, higher officials asked it to be that way for the ongoing investigation, but somehow this woman whom I’ve barely exchanged words in the past with has this knowledge?

---