Page 47 of Velvet Deception

The house doesn’t matter.

Looking at them, I knew we would make a home wherever we were, so long as we were together.

My heart couldn’t be fuller with love, and I dared to wonder how Diego might react if I were to tell him that he’d stolen my heart. That I was falling deeply, solidly, and swiftly in love with him. All of him, like he’d beseeched me to accept and take. All of him that he’d freely offered to me, not because he felt obligated to me but because he cared.

And maybe because he loves me, too. Loves us.

“Have you always used these same ornaments?” he asked as he perused the box I’d brought out by accident. I’d set the ornaments and lights for the tree aside until the living room’s decorations were complete.

“Yes,” I replied, watching him closely. I had a hunch that he was dipping into that confusion and frustration again.

“I wish…” He set it down, sat back, and rubbed his hands down his face. “I wish I could remember. I had to have celebrated Christmas, but I can’t recall how. What ornaments I used. What my family did.” He looked at me, peeved. “I had to have come from someone, somewhere.”

“You can’t remember any traditions?” Ramon asked.

I ceased giving him scolding looks to his asking questions. Diego never minded, anyway.

“No,” he said. “And yes. I remember stuff, but not participating. I’m aware of all that goes into Christmas, but not a personal involvement in it.”

Juan knocked on the door, and Ramon popped up. “I’ll be right back, Mama and Diego. He wants me to help him wrap a big box for his abuela. He painted her a picture for Christmas.”

After he ran out, Diego sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I want to remember something, my angel, so I know who I am.”

“You are still yourself,” I replied, sitting next to him and leaning against his side. “In your heart and mind, you are stillyou.” Behavioral changes and mood swings wouldn’t be surprising after a traumatic head injury, but it seemed that his curse was simply selective amnesia.

“I know. But the more I feel like you and Ramon are my family and the further I look ahead and plan how we can stay together like this, a family I will protect, I want to know where I came from to avoid another incident like what I faced before.”

I watched him, understanding that he’d want to reconcile with his past. It didn’t hurt me that he was clinging to the hope to resume his former identity in some way, or at least to know what it was. I couldn’t fault him for that.

But what I could do was help him now. I resolved to make sure he was content with me and my son, that the idea of forming a real family with the three of us could be something good for him, for us.

“Do you understand?” he asked softly.

I nodded, but he shifted to face me more.

“Something happened to me,” he explained. “I was knocked out and lost who I was. We still don’t know whether it was an accident or an attack. But deep down in my mind, I am convinced it had to have been the latter, that someone wanted me to be wounded.”

I swallowed hard, hating this topic. “Or dead. I agree. From the wounds you had and where I found you…” I nodded. “I don’t think your wounds and head injury were accidents.”

“And if they weren’t, someone had it out for me. Someone wanted to hurt me. To kill me. I realize you want to assume it’s the Cartel, but lately, I can’t shake off this worry that it might not have been.” He took my hand and held it, seeming to need the comfort of my touch the same as he wanted to soothe me. “What if I had an enemy and they will persist if I start a new life again? What if I did something terrible to warrant so much malice like that?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe that.”

“Sofia, my angel. Yousawme kill those men. With ease.”

I couldn’t dismiss that, nor could I agree with him that he could’ve been a bad person to deserve someone attempting to kill him.

“I want to make sure that I am not a danger or threat to you, my angel. I want to be deserving and worthy of your love, of being the man Ramon can look up to. If my past is stained with dark crimes and ill deeds, I need to know.”

I sighed before leaning over to frame his face and kiss him. “I understand, but I don’t care.” I laid my hand on his chest. “In here, I know you are good. And I refuse to believe you aren’t true to your character now, regardless of what you know of your past.”

He kissed me back, seeming to want more of this connection we fostered, but as the doorknob jiggled, heralding Ramon’s return, we parted and I stood.

“Diego!” Ramon said as he came back in. “What if we try more of those questions?” He plopped back on the couch next to Diego. “Like how you knew your age.”

Diego nodded and smiled. “Okay. I’m game. Shoot.”

I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but I let them play twenty questions. Ramon asked simple, easy questions that any person could answer without much thought. Diego was aware of a lot, just not anything deeply personal about himself.

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