Page 104 of Always You
“I’m sorry, Mila.” His voice is no more than a whisper.
I swallow. He reaches over and wipes the blood trickling down. My heart races; it’s the only organ in me that seems to be working; the rest of me feels numb. I watch as the paramedics arrive.
“Mila,” he says, his voice strained.
I can’t look at him, not when he lied to me. Not when he left to be with another woman. When he knew his mom killed my father and had not had her arrested. I could have been killed; this wouldn’t have happened if they had detained her the day they found out.
“I’m going outside to check on Dante. The paramedics are here to check on you.”
I nod once again.
He sighs. The sound of his voice echoes in the broken chamber of my heart.
* * *
It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m baking chocolate chip, peanut butter, and sugar cookies for Santa. Yesterday, I spent the day making tamales, not that I had the energy to do it. I forced myself to keep the family tradition alive. Nana insists I keep it going. Every year, Nana makes tamales. It’s a family tradition passed down.
It’s been four days since Rachel showed up on my doorstep, attempting to kill me for the second time. I’ve kept myself busy with cooking and cleaning. I haven’t spoken to Dominic. I know he tried. I overheard Liam telling him now wasn’t the time. Whatever that means.
The day of the incident, Sophie and Dante slept in my bed. I needed Dante close to me. Sophie was scared out of her mind. She had overheard shouting and called Liam when she peeked through the window.
I sigh as I unfold a tamal and savor it. I think back to the night of Dante’s school play. I didn’t expect him to show up. It shocked me to see him; it had been a while since I’d seen him. That was the night of our date. Damn, he looked good. I was expecting to see his blonde, snobby bimbo next to him. The minute my eyes met his, all I could see was his betrayal, his lies, and her all over him. My phone pings startling me and bring me back from my thoughts. A text from Dominic.
Dominic:Merry Christmas, Mila. I left gifts at the door for Dante. Tell him I love him.
I didn’t envision Christmas this way, not this year. I imagined we would be together as a family. Opening the door, I find five gifts wrapped up in beautiful wrapping. Picking up each one, I place them under the tree. I find one that says to Mila from Dominic. Wow, I wasn’t expecting it. I bought him a gift from Dante, so maybe he’s doing the same.
Mila:Merry Christmas, okay thank you, I’ll let him know.
I text him back, shoving the phone in my jean pocket. I miss him but the betrayal stings and the pain he’s caused me festers in me like cancer reminding me of what he’s done.
“Mom, can I have a cookie?” Dante peeks his head out from the living room into the kitchen. We are having our annual Christmas Eve movie night. We count the hours until Santa comes while we watch all our favorite movies while cuddling under the blankets.
“Yes, of course, baby, you want some milk too? Oh, and your daddy dropped some gifts off for you.” I pour a glass of milk for us both, and we dunk our cookies in our milk.
Dante licks his lips, then wipes the milk mustache off with the back of his hand. His eyes trail to the gifts under the tree. He cocks his head to the side and frowns. “Why didn’t he come inside?”
“Baby, he left them on the doorstep. I think he thought no one was home.”
He huffs. “Are you not talking to him? Are you mad at him or is he mad at you?”
My chest tightens. Smart kid. One minute Dominic’s here constantly and now he’s not. It’s my fault for letting him in too soon.
“Everything is fine it’s just adult stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. Let’s go watch the Grinch.” I take a stack of cookies with me, we all sit on the couch enjoying the night.
* * *
I sit at my wooden desk, its deep mahogany grain almost the same color as the leather camera strap in my hands. It’s handmade, and its smooth texture is embroidered with my name in a subtle script font. I’m bewildered—I wasn’t expecting something so personalized or a gift at all —and I can’t help but question what this could mean. Maybe I’m just overanalyzing it, he gave it to me because I’m the mother of his son.Right?Ugh Mila, get over it! He’s engaged. My fingers work in a circular motion, massaging my temple, when the door chimes.
I watch as a tall, handsome, well-built man walks in. Bright sea blue-green eyes and a sharp jaw suggest a late twenties age.
“Hello, good evening. Looking for a Ms. Amaro.” Mr. Handsome’s husky voice booms with authority, and it snaps me out of my daydreaming.
I realize I’ve been staring into those blue-green eyes. He smirks. I clear my throat.
“Yes, I’m Mila Amaro. What can I help you with? Do you have an appointment?”
“No, Ms. Amaro, I’m Detective Mike Johnson with the San Diego Police Department.”
