Page 92 of The Prez

After we read the first letter from Elena, it became easier to read more. She wrote one when she found out she was pregnant and told me if she had a boy, she’d name him Rafael after her hero. It’s hard to really absorb her words when I wish she had told them to my face. In a few of her letters, she said she wished she were braver so she could send the letters to me, but was afraid she wouldn’t get a reply. I wish I could turn back time and go to her, but as she said about herself, Iwasn’t brave enough to face her rejection. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.

Little Raf’s father, Alejandro, was adopted, with no family or close friends around since they’d only been in North Carolina for a few months before they died. We tried to track down his birth family, but we haven’t had much luck yet. We plan to keep trying for Little Raf. I have some home videos of him and Elena that we packed up from the house. Hopefully Little Raf can glean some information about him from the sparse bits we have. And maybe we can go looking into his past so he can learn of his father’s childhood.

I head to the shower, washing myself so I can take over for Omari. Though he’s not my nanny anymore, he does the bulk of taking care of Little Raf. Mostly because he says I don’t do things how he likes them and instead of getting frustrated, he’ll do it himself.

I smile as I dry myself, thinking about my boyfriend. He was an unexpected but welcome surprise. He burrowed his way into my heart when I wasn’t paying attention and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not only is he tough and brave, but he’s also kind and gentle, able to comfort me when I’m feeling down and wrangle in a toddler just entering his terrible twos. Though Little Raf was becoming a handful before that if I’m being honest.

“Alright,” I say, entering the large kitchen. My eyes lock onto Little Raf, who’s sitting in his highchair eating vegan waffles. “I got it from here, precioso.” Omari smiles and kisses my cheek before hustling down the hallway to take a shower.

Little Raf has his appointment with an allergist in a few weeks and we’re hoping it gives us more insight on his allergy. His pediatrician said he might be able to eat foods with eggs in them, but we shouldn’t try them until we speak to an allergist. Luckily, Omari found a vegan market that hasall the same things we eat without eggs so Little Raf doesn’t feel left out.

I sit down in front of Little Raf and pop a piece of his waffle in my mouth. He does his best to scowl at me as he picks up a piece for himself. “Mine,” he grumbles.

“No sharing, Rafelito?” I joke with him, frowning.

He sighs dramatically. “Okay. Here go.” He slides a piece over to me and I laugh, scooping it up and tossing it in my mouth.

“Thank you,” I say, kissing his forehead.

“Welcome,” he says absently, arranging his food into a pattern that makes sense only to him.

When I’m sure he’s doing okay, I get breakfast for me and Omari started.

As I’m grabbing the bacon from the fridge, my phone pings. I pull it from my pocket to see a text in the group chat with me, Jace, Pete, and Zeke. I roll my eyes as I open it. They said it’s easier to make plans if we can all see the messages. But those three fuckers get in there and shoot the shit, blowing up my phone at random hours. I’ve taken to putting my phone on Do Not Disturb until we figure this all out.

It’s Zeke, sending a picture of his dog, Zeus. The dog has on a shirt, but I can’t read the words printed on it.

Zeke: Isn’t he adorable?

The other guys hop in the chat.

Pete: Aww, he is.

Jace: Makes me want to get one.

I roll my eyes and text back.

Me: Why did you send that?

Zeke answers back quickly.

Zeke: Why are you being grumpy today?

Pete: He’s always grumpy.

Jace: You can’t be grumpy when you need our help.

Again, I roll my eyes, but I smile too. After the night with Brock, we’ve all grown closer. I love all my brothers, but Pete and Jace have worked their way into being my inner circle. Zeke already was, he and Rax my best friends besides Christian, but with two of them gone, the other two took their places.

Pete and I have talked one on one about Christian a lot. He’s still sad about losing what he called the love of his life, but he’s also bitter that Christian kept putting off them being public about their relationship. Then he wrestles with his bitterness, not enjoying being mad at a dead man. He’s stillfighting in that underground fight club, but he’s more careful and isn’t taking fights to help him forget.

I shake my head and go back to the texts.

Me: I’m not grumpy. This is a planning thread, not show off your fucking dog thread.

Zeke: Did you even read the shirt?

Me: Can’t make out shit on that shirt.

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