Page 35 of Sapphires and Snakes
Pat chews on that. Father supposedly only brought his perpetual shadow, and I’m not sure if that means he’s insulting Tamayo by assuming she poses little threat or if he’s trying to counter any assumptions that he’s here to finish what was started at the engagement party.
“And Tamayo?” Pat asks.
“She and Darius will be in the hallway, just in case.”
They nod. “Perimeter?”
“Ask Darius.”
“Fine.” Pat shakes their head, like I should bother myself with the details of security when I have them for that. They turn, heading for the atrium.
“Pat?” My voice is soft, barely heard over their footsteps.
They stop, frowning in concern. I scrunch my nose at the words stuck in my throat. They make me feel small. I’m a mafia princess, a threat in my own right, and yet…
“Do you—” I almost swallow the question back down, but instead it spills out in a rush. “Do you think he’s here to hurt me?”
Pat closes the gap between us and takes my arms in their hands. Their blue eyes melt, a glacier cracking in the sun. “I don’t know.”
“I know he fucked up. A lot.” Each transgression rolls through me like a waterfall of poison—investing poorly, arranging the marriage, aligning with the Accardis, conspiring to kidnap me—and yet that girl sitting in the depths of the black hole of my soul still yearns. She wishes for the moments when he’d smile at me wide, when his eyes would crinkle with fondness, when he’d take care of me. “But we—he?—”
“He’s your father,” they finish for me.
The word doesn’t feel like it’s enough, like it’s a paltry descriptor of what I’m trying to say.
Pat rubs their hands up and down my arms. “The only way to know is to find out.”
“Yeah.” I know that’s true, but it doesn’t make the wish any lighter in my chest. I suck in a steeling breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
They turn to walk beside me. “I’ll be in the atrium with you.”
I nod, understanding their need to make up for the last time I was alone with a parent. Pat had guarded the door rather thanme and had almost let the worst happen. And it’s not only them—I want them near, too.
Tamayo and Darius stand at the end of the hall, speaking in murmurs while they wait. Pat goes to Darius immediately, likely to ask about the perimeter and other security things. I grab Tamayo’s hand and peek through one of the small windows of the double, metal doors.
Father’s studying the bulletin board of news, flyers, accomplishments, and events. Photos of the youths who were once here and are here now litter the corkboard, protected by a glass cabinet. His hands are in his pockets, his suit a muted gray, like the clouds hanging low in the sky over Louredo. His bodyguard, G, stands at the door leading outside, eyes scanning everywhere, all the time. He spots me in the window and whispers a word of warning to Father. I step back before he can turn.
Tamayo squeezes my hand. “You got this.”
“I know.” And I do know. Whether our encounter is painted with disappointment, unexpected amity, betrayal, or something else entirely, I know that I will be able to walk back through these doors and be okay. That I can ask Tamayo to wrap me up in comfort, Pat to make me laugh with my whole belly. I have them. Rita and Darius, too, in their own ways. And I will be okay.
I release Tamayo’s hand and pull on my armor—chin high, spine straight, face bored. “Pat.”
They stand on my right, one step behind, as we step into the atrium. Father watches me enter, brown eyes darker than mine scanning me from head to toe as if he expected injuries. The door clanks shut behind us, the sound echoing through the tiled hall.
I stop about ten feet away from him, unwilling to close the distance. “Father.”
“Zarina.” He says my name like a sigh of relief. “Thank you for seeing me.”
I don’t say anything. We’re in Tamayo’s territory, and while I may not be its queen, it means I owe him very little in the way of deference here.
It must bother him, or maybe everything about our current situation bothers him, because he immediately begins to guilt me. “Have we really come to this? Having to chase you down for a conversation?”
“It’s not so unreasonable considering the last time I talked to you.” I do my best to ignore the images and subsequent echoed emotions that roil through me. Last time I was alone with a parent, it was the lowest betrayal.
He shifts his weight, and I read it for the fidgeting it is. “That’s one reason I’m here—to apologize.”
“For which part?” I challenge. Because this shouldn’t be easy, not for either of them.
