The morning after my father’s arrest, I awake to the sound of a Telenovela blaring from the living room and the aroma of espresso coaxing me out of bed. I didn’t want to be alone last night, so I spent the night at Julian’s since I’m still ignoring Moses. 

A tattooed arm full of butterflies from wrist to elbow is draped over me, and I glance to the side at Julian’s sister, Sofia. She looks like an angel sleeping face down with her dark waves fanned across the pillow and the slightest smile painting her lips. Her dreams must be peaceful, unlike mine. However, Sofia is far from angelic since she loves terrorizing her parents by not wanting to get married or have kids, which is unheard of in Julian’s family. 

Most of their cousins married young and started popping out babies before their twenty-fifth birthdays. So, for Sofia to be twenty-one years old, and have zero desire for either of those things, makes her a rebel in her parent's eyes. Especially her mothers.

Trying not to wake her, I pluck Sofia’s tattooed arm off me. She stirs and mumbles something about bacon, and I have to stifle a giggle because there is drool on her pillow. Then, like a vampire awakening, her eyes pop open, and she bolts into a sitting position.

“Did we have sex?” She holds a hand to her chest.

“What? No,” I laugh.

“I mean, not that I’d be opposed since you’re such a babe, but I am strictly-dickly.”

“It’s ok, Sof. Nothing happened.” 

“Wait. Where am I?” She glances around the dim room, taking in the furniture and music posters of K-Pop bands.

“You’re at home. I slept over last night, and Julian said I could take your room. Then, around 3 AM, you stumbled in here drunk and collapsed next to me.”

“Oh… right.” 

“You didn’t drive home like that, right?”

“Of course not. I Uberd,” she yawns, and her stale booze breath wafts towards me. “I met a really hot guy last night.”

“Where?”

“Bruno’s. It was reggae night, and OMG!” She turns to me, the sheets swooshing with her movements. “He was an amazing kisser. Like caramel melting on my tongue.”

“That good, huh?”

“Yes! Except, we never exchanged numbers.” She frowns. “Ah, well. He’s probably just some fuck-boy anyway.”

“Please tell me you at least learned his name?”

“I did!” She grins. “His name was Noah, and you want to know the crazy thing? He was there with his brother named Moses. He said something about their parents liking biblical names.”

“Moses?” I squeak and bring a hand to my chest. “He was there?”

“Wait, you know him?”

“He’s my… well, he was my…”

“Oh, no, Val! I’m so sorry, but if it makes you feel better, he looked super miserable the entire time. Like, he was just sitting there, babysitting his drink and not talking to anyone.”

“We kind of broke up, I guess. I haven’t even told Julian because of everything happening with my dad.”

“So, does Moses know what happened yesterday?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“You should call him!” She nudges me. “He really did look miserable last night. I bet he misses you. Plus, I wouldn’t mind seeing Noah again.”

“I can’t. It’s complicated.”

 “How?”

“I found information in his apartment about Valentina and me. He says a reporter ambushed him with it, and he was going to throw it away, but I don’t know. I think I’m at my wits end with surprises.” 

“Val, I know you’re going through a lot right now, but I don’t think he would lie about that. I think he was trying to protect you.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, then swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand. What if Sofia is right, and I’m being too hard on Moses? 

We make our way to the kitchen, where Julian’s mom is in a robe with pink curlers in her hair as she stirs scrambled eggs. Their home is full of life as the television blares with two actresses bickering while bacon sizzles in another pan and Julian chases his nibling around the kitchen table. His older sister, Catia, leans against the kitchen counter, with coffee in one hand, a cell phone in the other, and yells at the kids in Spanish to settle down. 

Catia doesn’t share the same mother as Julian and Sofia and was born in the Dominican Republic. After her mother passed away when she was five, she emigrated with their father to the US, where he met and married Mari. However, no one would ever guess that Catia and Mari don’t share DNA since they have such a strong bond.

Watching them over the years makes me wonder if people put too much emphasis on biological connection.

Maybe it’s enough just to love someone?

Or maybe love isn’t enough, and we need to understand when it’s time to cut off the rotting fruit. 

If only my situation were that simple. I love and hate my father. I need him out of my life, yet I can’t imagine him not being in it. So, I slump against the kitchen island as Sofia passes me a cup of coffee and releases a long breath.

“You hungry? I made extra.” Mari asks in her thick Dominican accent.

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” I hold my stomach and flatten myself as the kids rush past me with Julian chasing them. “But thank you.”

“Julian mentioned your biological mom flew in from Mexico,” Catia says and gives her brother a slap across the back of the head. “We are talking! I swear you’re worse than my kids,” she reprimands, then focuses back on me. “Are you going to meet her before your father’s arraignment?” 

“I hadn’t even thought about that.” I clutch the coffee mug to my chest as the kids whip around me again. “The FBI mentioned something about meeting my biological family, but I figured I’d just see them at the courthouse.”

“Have you thought about what she’s like?” Catia asks, then blocks her children’s path and directs them out of the kitchen with a glare that could melt Antarctica. “Do you think you’ll have similar traits?”

“Gosh, Cat, let the girl breathe. Her dad was arrested yesterday.” Sofia rolls her eyes.

“Speaking of yesterday.” Catia narrows her eyes at her. “Didn’t you leave here last night wearing that outfit? You should probably shower. I can smell your hangover from here.” 

“Hangover?” Mari turns around, waving a spatula. “Sofia Maria Martinez! What time did you come home last night?”

“Midnight…” Sofia toys with the hem of her shirt.

“Try three AM,” Julian snorts, and Sofia cuts her eyes to him.

“Traitor!”

“Slut,” he hisses with a grin. “I saw you doing the walk of shame through the door.”

“Sofia Maria!” their mother gasps. “Que vergüenza.” 

“Oh, whatever!” Sofia objects. “I’m not ashamed. It’s 2022. Women can have sex whenever they want and with whoever they want.”

“Ay, por Dios, no.” Mari prays to the ceiling.

“Besides, Julian always comes home late, and you never say anything to him.”

“Because I’m mom’s favorite.” He winks.

“I hate it here,” Sofia mumbles and walks away, slurping her coffee.

“And on that note, I should probably get going too,” I say.

“No, stay, eat.” Mari points to the table, then shouts. “Julio, breakfast is ready!”

“I’m coming, cariño!” Julian’s father shouts from somewhere in the basement, followed by his heavy footfalls up the stairs. When he emerges, his face lights up with a smile. “Ah, Valeria!”

“Hey.” I wave, but he pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head like the friendly giant he is. At six foot three, Julio towers over his entire family, along with the husky frame I can’t wrap my arms around. 

“Are you staying for breakfast?” he asks.

“No. I’m not really a breakfast person. Plus, I should get going.”

“Ándale, have some breakfast,” he urges.

“No, really, I need to get going.”

“Ok, fine,” he concedes, then says something to Mari in Spanish and turns to me with a smile. “She’ll fix you a plate to go.”

Minutes later, I’m sitting in Julian’s Chevy with a warm plate of breakfast covered in tin foil on my lap. It smells delicious, and my stomach gurgles the entire drive. Perhaps I have an appetite after all? Julian steers onto my street, and he’s been silent the whole time but clears his throat in a way that suggests he’s about to make things uncomfortable.

“So, um, Sofia mentioned you and Moses broke up.”

“Yeah.” My mouth pulls into a flat line. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? It happened days ago.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I was involved in a sting operation where the FBI arrested my dad for kidnapping me. So, I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I quirk my brow.

“Get passive aggressive. It’s a defense mechanism, and this isn’t an argument. I’m your best friend, and you didn’t come to me about your boyfriend. I’m concerned, that’s all.”

“Moses is small potatoes compared to what’s happening with my father, don’t you think?”

“Val, it’s ok to be upset about breaking up with him,” he says, and I roll my eyes as I stare out the window because, of course, it’s ok. “All I want to know is if I need to beat his ass?” 

“No, I don’t need you to do anything. I’m not even sure we’re broken up. He’s been calling and texting, but I keep ignoring him.”

“Ouch. That’s cold, Val.”

“I have more important things going on.”

“Still, ignoring him is cold, and as much as I don’t care for the guy, I doubt he deserves to be ignored.”

“I know,” I sigh and fuss with the tin foil covering the plate. “I just can’t handle Moses and my dad right now. One thing at a time.”

“You’re not alone in this. I’ve got you.”

For the last few weeks, I’ve told Julian I don’t need him to protect me. I’m about to stop fighting it and tell him thank you, but as he pulls up to the apartment, a small throng of people stands on the curb.

“Weird,” Julian says.

“What the…” The horde turns our way, cameras, and microphones in hand. They bend and squint their eyes, assessing who is in the car with recognition blooming across their faces as we lock gazes. 

“Reporters,” Julian says and shifts the car into drive. “Let’s go back to my place.”

“No.” I place my hand over his on the gear. “They’re not going to make me feel unwelcome in my home.”

Removing my seatbelt, I even my breaths and step out. The reporters shove their phones and cameras in my face while yelling questions. They sound like clucking chickens. I can only make out certain words like Valentina, kidnapped, and when did you know, as I push through them. They remain on my heels, their camera lights flashing, and some are bold enough to grab me. I shrug them off and slink away, but they follow like hounds tracking a scent. It isn’t until Julian reaches me and barks at them to step back do they leave me alone. He curls an arm around me and ushers me up the stairs to my apartment, my keys clanging between my fingers as I search for the right one, but we should have known how cunning the reporters are. In front of my door is a woman with red hair, black skinny jeans, a red leather jacket, and thick-framed glasses propped on her nose. It’s clear she doesn’t plan to move as we approach. She pivots, allowing me inches of space to get the key into the lock, so I stand my ground with hands on hips.

“Get the hell away from my door, or I will call the cops!”

“Relax.” She holds up her hands, surrendering. “I just want a chance to interview you and write your story."

“Why?”

“Because I've been studying your case for years, and now here you are. I want the first crack at the story.

“No.”

“Will you at least think about it?"

"No."

"I know your biological uncle, Alfredo Suarez," she says.

"Ok..."

“Well, technically, I work for Manny Herrera, who runs Voice News network and is a mutual friend of Alfredo. But anyway, I tracked down your boyfriend—”

“You!” I point at her. “You’re the one who’s been following him and leaving things on his windshield!”

“Yes, well, I didn't want to alarm you, so I thought I'd approach him first."

“Well, you did alarm me.” I turn away from her and shove the key into the door. “Now leave.”

“Amelia Moreno would like to meet you. Away from cameras.”

“What?” I freeze.

“Your father, or should I say your kidnapper, will be arraigned tomorrow—”

“What!” I face her, shaking my head. “No one has told me this.”

“Well, I’m telling you. Amelia would like to meet after the court hearing.”

“I… I can’t deal with this right now!” I push through the door and yank Julian inside, then slam the door on miss wannabe Sherlock Holmes.

“I know you’re going through a lot right now, so I’ll just slide my business card under the door,” she says from the other side. “I’m Margie Gill, by the way. You can call me anytime, and I’ll pick up.”

The little, square card pushes into the apartment from under the door, but I don’t move to grab it. So, Julian plucks it from the floor and tucks it into his pocket.

“I’ll hold onto it.” He winks.

When I go to the window, she’s gone, but across the way, Moses peeks through his curtains, and my heart squeezes with shame. I reprimanded him when he was telling the truth. I should apologize, but pride keeps my feet planted.

Besides, I need to chew someone out from the FBI for not telling about my father getting arraigned tomorrow.

This is all moving so fast, and I’m not ready for any of it.

As if hearing the scramble of thoughts coursing through my head, Julian pulls me against his chest. 

“It’s going to be ok. I’ve got you,” he whispers. So, I relax into him and allow his arms to hold me tight. 

What would I do without him?