Page 89 of The Prez

After Little Raf has had his fill of cake, we clean him up and allow him to waddle around the house, touching and grabbing to his heart’s content. It’s not long before one of the brothers—Pete—scoops him up, walking around the house with him.

We open gifts and take pictures, eat finger foods, and mingle for the next few hours. Little Raf is in heaven, getting all kinds of attention. His feet barely touch the floor the entire day.

Pete comes to stand beside me as I watch Omari and Little Raf. Little Raf is sitting on Omari’s lap as Omari flips through a book the twins picked out for his birthday. Pete crosses his arms over his chest with a sad smile on his face. “Guess lovin’ out loud paid off for you.” He looks over at me. “I’m happy for you, Prez. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you after what you’ve been through. Omari is a good man. We all like him.”

“Thanks, hermano. You’ll find that love too.”

He shrugs. “I doubt it. My great love died six months ago. I think we only get one in our lives.” Pete pats my shoulder, leaving me to ponder his words.

If we only get one great love in our lives, mine is Omari. He’s everything I didn’t know I wanted. I thought I’d live my entire life alone, my brothers and hangarounds my only company. I didn’t want anyone else as company. I didn’t want anyone else around.

But life has a way of throwing curveballs that we don’t anticipate. I never thought I’d have a kid or have to hire a sexy as fuck nanny that would breeze in and make my life easier and fuller than it’s ever been. And a baby that would break down all my defenses, leaving me open for more love than I could handle.

Fuck, my life is so fucking good.

Three hours later, everyone is leaving and Little Raf is out like a light for the rest of the evening.

Omari and I decide to clean up now instead of waiting until the morning when Little Raf is walking around and making more mess.

By the time we’re done, we’re both exhausted, our day full of playing and entertaining.

After our shower, I try to get to sleep, but I remain restless. No matter what I try, rest is hard to come by.

Omari is laying on my chest, his fingers tracing up and down the scar on my side. “What are you thinking about?”

I smile in the dark. “How did you know something was on my mind?”

He slides his hand up to my chest and pats it. “Your heart rate sped up.” He sits up and I barely make out his face in the dark. “What is it?”

I sigh and squeeze his waist. “It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”

“Tell me please,” he whispers.

Sitting up, I reach over and click on the light. Omari turns to face me, sitting cross-legged. “I keep thinking I should read Elena’s letters. But what if they’re blaming me for her life? Blaming me for not coming for her. I need to know what they say, but I don’t think I can handle that.” I chuckle uncomfortably, running a thumb over my eyebrow. “That makes me weak.”

Omari grips my hands. “No, it doesn’t. It makes you honest. There’s nothing weak about wanting to protect your feelings. But if you want to read one, I’ll be right here with you. We can read it together.”

Pulling in a deep breath, I let it out slowly as I nod. “Okay, yeah. Thank you, baby.” I kiss him slowly, opening him up for me just so I can get a taste of normal for just a moment more. I have a feeling that what I read will change me forever.

When I release his lips, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and pull the box from under it. I don’t make a move to retake my earlier position, so Omari saddles up behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder so he’ll be able to see what I’m reading from that position.

I rummage through the box, picking a letter at random and pulling it out. The envelope is a faded yellow, soft to the touch, so it must be one of the older letters.

Blowing out a shuddering breath, I slide my finger under the lip and open it. I pull out the flowered stationery, an involuntary smile crossing my lips.

With a sense of trepidation, I unfold the letter and begin to read.

Dear Rafael,

It’s been five years since I last saw you and I regret how I treated you with each day that passes. Since I was ten and my father took me away from Cuba, he told me you were just like your father. That you would beat women, abuse them, and make their lives hell. And you know what? I believed him. I soaked up all the hate and vitriol my father spewed and I began to hate you.

I hated that your father killed my mother. I hated that your father was the reason I had to leave the only home I’d ever known, and I hated that you were my brother. For years, I practiced what I would say when I finally saw you, though I never thought you’d come for me. My father said you never cared about me or Mama, that’s why you let her die.

I stop reading for a moment, a lump forming in my throat. It kills me that she felt this way, especially when I worked so hard to get my life together and find her, so she could stay with me. So we could be a family again. The edges of my soul unravel, the words from Elena’s letter hitting harder than I imagined.

“Keep reading, baby,” Omari whispers and his words give me strength.

Nodding, I clear my throat and continue.

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