Page 176 of From Rivals to I Do

"The restaurant is important to you," he said.

"Very," she responded. "My father built the restaurant up from nothing. So, I have to make sure everything is right."

"I get that," he admitted. He looked over at Camilla. She was staring ahead, a light line of creases on her forehead. "I'm sure your dad's proud of you."

She looked at him sharply as if she wanted to say something about it. Then she looked away, thinking better of it. "Thank you for saying that."

Another lull between them, then she said, "Your brother's a good man," she said, "to stand up for you after you got out. But, unfortunately, there are a lot of families that do not do that."

"So, I'm told." Abel didn't need her to tell him that. He knew from the guys he shared cells with that many people do not have a family to support them. "How do you know him, anyway?"

"We've known each other for a while," she said. "We go to the same church. He comes in for pizza now and again. We supposedly went to the same high school, but I do not remember him."

He frowned thoughtfully. That must be how Camilla was familiar to him. He and Rafael were only a few years apart. Maybe she and Abel had the same classes? Mulholland High School was a big school, with classes of at least thirty or so kids each. It was easy to get lost in the crowd.

"You went to Mulholland?" he asked. "We must not have run in the same crowds. I do not remember you either."

"To be fair, I wasn't there long," she said. "When I was fourteen, my father shipped me off to live with my mother for a while. I didn't come back for a long time…."

She trailed off like there was more to the story. Abel was curious, but something inside him told him not to push it, so he did not.

"So, what's the tattoo about?" she asked, changing the subject. Abel raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her for a moment. Then he remembered he'd had his shirt off earlier that day.

"Oh, you mean Woodstock?" he asked, and she nodded. "Got it when I was a kid. Me and Rafael. He's got a Snoopy Tattoo."

She giggled, and Abel thought the sound was strange and pleasant, like silver bells ringing from out of nowhere. "That's sweet. You and your brother must have been close."

"Yeah," he said and noticed the flecks of sadness in his voice. "We're pretty close. We had to be. He practically raised me after our mom died."

She glanced up at him, blue eyes turned down at the corners mournfully. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It was years ago," he said, then like a second thought. "Thanks, though. I always wondered how different our lives would have been if our mother was still around when things happened, you know? Me and Raf would probably have a completely different life."

He glanced down and noticed her looking away, a memory passing over her eyes. "I understand that" she said. "Did she die when you were young?"

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe a little younger than Charlie. We lived with my grandmother until she passed, and by then, Raf was old enough to take care of me on his own."

He glanced over and saw her looking at Charlie on his shoulder. She reached up and rubbed his back gently. He stirred a little but stayed asleep. "Charlie's father passed a few years back," she said softly. "Cancer. I sometimes wonder if I'm enough for him. Like, he's missing something."

She looked so sad, her blue eyes like watery pools in the dim light around them. Abel gazed down at her, slowly realizing how painfully lovely she looked in the glow of the street lights above them. Abel was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to hold her in his arms.

It was then he realized that they'd stopped walking. Instead, they were standing on the sidewalk, looking at one another. He felt his face flush as he looked away from Camilla. "This your street?"

She looked up, and in the direction, he was facing. "Yeah, this is it."

They turned down a corner and walked down for about a block through a quiet neighborhood, passing darkened houses and trees with large branches that hung over the street. Abel thought it was a safe area and a lovely street filled with trick-or-treaters or holiday lights at certain times of the year. It looked like a nice place to raise children.

They stopped at a small ranch-style house. Respectfully, he stopped at the end of the walkway and leaned down to give the sleeping child to Camilla. He caught a whiff of her hair as she leaned into him and picked up a hint of something floral and sweet. His heart fluttered a little as she pulled away from him.

"Thank you for walking me home," she said, holding Charlie as he slept against her shoulder. She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling like jewels.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "Have a good night," he said. He turned away, walking back the way he came and trying to ignore the look on her face as he was leaving.

***

That evening when Abel got home, he entered a darkened living room bathed in the flickering light of the television. In the shadows, he could see his brother sleeping on the couch, the light from the television illuminating him and making his skin look a sickly pale color. Abel paused and glanced at his phone. It was a little late. Had he been waiting up for him?

He walked over and nudged him on the shoulder. "Hey, Raf. Come on. Get up, man."

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