Page 93 of Claiming Liberty

He shrugs. “I said everything I needed to before they died.”

I nod in understanding and rub his knee as he puts the car in drive and pulls away from the graveyard, heading to his dad’s house next. We’re having a big ‘celebration of life’ block party with family, friends, and several of Dario’s old buddies.

When Angel rests his hand on my thigh, I turn to find his face calm, his shoulders relaxed against his seat. This is the first time he hasn’t been nervous to see people from his and Dario’s past.

He’s finally at peace.

“I want to name her Martina,” I announce, pulling his eyes to me. My lips lift into a wide smile. “And call her Marti.”

“Marti Grace,” Angel adds, his eyes lighting up. He smiles and moves his hand from my thigh to my belly, flicking his eyes from me to the road.

“Marti Grace Rivera,” I say, putting my hand over Angel’s. My belly roils with her movement, and I tell myself that means she agrees.

I don’t fight to hold back the tears forming as I rest my head back. I’ve never felt happiness like this. Never knew happiness like thisexisted. That a man could make me feel so safe, so loved, soequal.

There are no secrets between us. Marti will be born into a world with parents who are open and honest with each other. Although I can’t say we won’t adjust the story of how we met when we tell it to her. I’ll probably leave out all the lies, all the deceit. I don’t know if anyone besides Angel and I could ever understand how that deceit liberated both of us.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Angel says with so much emotion, I lean toward him on impulse.

I smile. “I love you so much too.”

People like to say that nothing good comes from a lie.

But I beg to differ.

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