Page 15 of Keepsake

We waited in silence, thankfully, but when she sat at the table, hands wiggling all over her lap, I went to her.

Grasping her hands on mine, I promised, “Nothing bad will happen to the kids. Logan is a good girl.”

Mamá looked at our hands, her cold fingers gripping mine. I continued, “She loved Sofia. She’s a good person.”

“She’s not from our world,” Mamá said again. “I don’t want the kids to lose who they are.”

“They aren’t going to be less Cuban if they move in with Logan.”

Mamá shook her head. “Cuba is not just blood, Alvaro. It’s a culture. It’s who we are. I don’t want them missing out.”

“Mamá…” I shook my head, bringing my arm around her. “That’s something you can say to Logan.”

“If they forget where they come from? They won’t understand—”

“I know. But that’s not what is happening here. You’re not giving away your grandchildren. Logan will take the toll, but we are going to be right there with her.”

“Will we?” She unglued from my chest, watching me with an expression that made me uncertain.

I opened my mouth to ask, but steps interrupted me. Soon Papá and the kids were back. Lachlan on Dash’s hip. Lachlan could walk. Of course, they just came from upstairs, but still. What toddler didn’t want to run around the house and make the adults wince at every corner?

I filed that under one more thing I needed to investigate.

“Hi, tío.” Vienna smiled, jumping on me before I even got a chance to respond.

I kissed her soft brown hair, and she smiled at me so brightly it almost made things better.

“Why were you being a dumbass?” she surprisingly asked.

“Vienna!” Mamá scolded.

“Excuse me?”

She lifted a shoulder, taking a seat just beside my chair. “That’s the only reason Dash ever gets a black eye.”

My eyes darted to my nephew straight away, panic flaring through my veins.

“Don’t listen to her,” Dash mumbled, taking a seat opposite Mamá with Lachlan on his knees.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I started. “How are you doing?”

“I’m best friends with Cierra again,” Vienna informed me.

“Great.”

Dash snorted. “Believe me, it is not.”

Vienna gasped. “Shut up, Dash!”

“Language, Vienna,” Mamá warned.

“Cierra is a bully, you know it. No one will care if you come home crying again, Vienna,” Dash insisted.

“Stop, Dash!” Vienna’s voice was so loud, dogs responded to it.

“I’m telling the truth. You have the worst friends.”

“You’re telling lies! I’m gonna tell mo—”

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