Page 191 of When Lies Unfold

Gordo sidles up beside me, taking in the festive atmosphere. Aside from the dunking booth, there’s a booth for face painting, one for making beaded necklaces and bracelets, and an inflatable water slide with a ball pit.

Did we go overboard with Alma’s birthday? Possibly, but if we’ve learned anything, it’s that life offers no guarantees. It can all end in the blink of an eye, so we need to cherish these moments and make the most of them.

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. You know that, right?”

I slide him a glance. “You mean with the other moms?”

“With any other woman, Lola.” He slings an arm around my shoulders, his expression turning somber. “I ever tell you how glad I am you were in that house when dipshit pulled his stunt that night?”

A little laugh escapes me at how he’s referring to Andro. “No, I don’t think you have.”

“Well, I am.” Features thoughtful, he peers down at me. “Santy’s not the only one who loves you. Gotta know we all do.”

“I know.” I scan the crowd of individuals who’ve become my family—our family. “And the feeling’s mutual.”

When Alma calls out, “Uncle Gordo! C’mon!” and waves him over, Gordo plants a quick kiss to the top of my head and drops his arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Alma we’d get matchin’ unicorn face paint.” His tall, broad-shouldered torso cuts a distinctive path through the crowded yard.

Alma waves and blows me a kiss before taking Gordo’s hand and leading him to the face painting booth.

My heart is so full, I have the urge to pinch myself to ensure it’s reality and not a dream. When something in my periphery catches my attention, I turn toward the area of the yard bordering part of the jungle. It takes a moment to focus, but once I do, a sense of peace washes over me.

A gorgeous ocelot stands watch beside a thick tree trunk, its tan coat embellished with black streaks and spots helping it blend in with its surroundings. When he shifts, I notice he’s no longer favoring his front left leg.

I haven’t seen him in over a month, and he was initially reluctant to let me tend to his wound. Somehow, I managed to gain his trust, and he allowed me to help him.

We hold eye contact for a moment, and I get the impression he’s come to thank me and tell me he’s better.

I cast a quick glance around before setting Santy’s shirt and tiara on a nearby chair. Crossing the border of our yard, I venture into the jungle. The ocelot regards me cautiously once I stop a few feet away.

“Hola, amor.” Hello, love. I slowly extend my hand, and after a brief hesitation, he approaches and allows me to pet his head.

“¿Cómo está tú pierna? ¿Está mejor?” How’s your leg? Is it better?

He purrs and presses his head against my hand, silently demanding more petting. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Some of Alma’s friends squeal with delight, and the animal startles, going stock-still, his muscles tensing.

With a calm tone, I coo, “It’s okay. The girls are safe. They’re just having fun.” I slowly stroke along his back and repeat my words until he’s relaxed once again.

“I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” He peers up at me, and I ask, “Can I take a look at it one last time? Will you let me?”

There’s a brief pause before I slowly bend my knees and lower myself to inspect him. He shifts to sit on his hind legs before offering me his front paw.

“Good boy.” I maintain a soothing tone as I carefully examine him. Thankfully, he’s healed perfectly. He got caught in an illegal trap since ocelot fur is coveted by many.

“You’ve healed so nicely.” I release his paw with a small smile. He lowers his head to give my hand a swipe of his rough tongue before turning and slinking away.

“Mamá! Look at us!” Alma’s voice rings out, and I straighten and emerge from the jungle.

My daughter approaches alongside a grinning Gordo, each of their faces beautifully painted like a unicorn. The large man doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by it, which makes me adore him even more.

“You both look exactly like unicorns,” I gush, and Alma giggles.

Gordo excuses himself, and my daughter peers up at me expectantly. “Will you make a necklace with me?”

“I’d love to.”

Alma takes my hand, leading me toward the designated booth, and a sense of rightness washes over me. It serves as a reminder that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

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