King's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (38 page)

“She was safer with
me until I got things under control, and she would have been a distraction for
you.”

I’m stunned. A
distraction?
Safer with him?
He’s not going to be safe
from me in a second, because I’m going to kill him myself. My entire body is
trembling with fury. It’s all I can do not to launch myself at him and claw his
eyes out.

He bows his head for
a moment and takes a deep breath. When he looks up, he looks past me over my
shoulder. I can hardly hear him when he speaks. His voice cracks and wavers on
the edge of tears.

“I saw you doing what
I knew you could do, what you wanted to do when I met you, and it validated my
decision. When the danger was gone, you were so happy and I didn’t want to blow
it all out of the water by returning too soon. I swear
,
I was planning to bring her back to you. God, Holland, I was so sure I was
doing the right thing, but then last night . . . the two of you curled in that
bed together . . .”

His quiet, gravelly
voice breaks, and my cold, angry heart lurches, but I shove that pity far away,
because the pain and loss I’ve experienced at his hands can’t compare to his
sudden realization.

“King, the life you
thought I wanted isn’t the life
I
wanted.
I love music. My dream was to be a professional musician, but dreams change.
You should have told me about the danger, you should have given me some
choices, you should have come back the instant the danger was gone, but instead
you railroaded my life, twisting and molding it into what
you
thought it should be.”

I cover my face with
my hands and rest my elbows on my knees. I’m so angry and hurt. I don’t want to
talk about this right now. I just want to start making up for lost time with
Juliette.

King is quiet. When I
look up, he’s slumped back into the couch with one elbow on the arm holding his
head, with his hand shielding his face. I see a tear fall from behind his hand
and land somewhere in his lap, and I wonder how many tears he left me. They
can’t compare with mine. I could have filled an ocean with my tears, maybe two.
I cried every day for six months. I cried when I woke up, and then in the
shower, I cried when I moved to New York, I cried in the bathroom between
classes at Juilliard and on breaks during performances, and finally, every
night, wherever I was in the world, I cried myself to sleep until one day, I
just stopped. I can’t say I gave up hope because I never did, but something
inside of me was broken.

I surrendered to my
fate and became a robot. I accomplished goal after goal, but I never enjoyed
the rewards. I had no one to comfort me when I moved to New York, but King had
Juliette, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow.

I stand to leave. I’m
finished talking. There isn’t anything left to say really. I know why he did
what he did, and I realize he was protecting me, but he knows the way he did it
was wrong. He doesn’t move until I pass him, and he reaches out to grab my
wrist.

“Don’t go.” He
doesn’t even look at me when he speaks. He has no right to ask me to stay.

“I wish I had been
given the chance to say those words three years ago,” I say and shake free of
his grip.

“I’m sorry.” His
words dissolve in the air behind me as I walk across the living room and open
Juliette’s door.

Sebastián is almost
finished dressing her in a grey and pink jumper with grey tights. He’s buckling
her little black Mary Jane shoes. Her hair is parted perfectly down the middle
and French braided down each side. I’m impressed.

“You’re pretty good
at that.”

He looks up, and
Juliette follows his eyes to me.

“Thank you, lots of
practice.”

I wince, and he drops
his eyes.

“Sorry, I don’t mean
to rub it in.”

“It’s okay. I know
you didn’t have a choice. King gets what King wants. So tell me why you refer
to yourself as Grandpa Sebastián. I never took you for much of a family man.”

He stands and helps
Juliette down from the edge of the bed. She runs to me and I pick her up. She
snuggles against my neck, and when she pulls away, she signs something in the
space between us. Her signs are so small and cute. I wish I could understand
what she’s saying.

I look at Sebastián
for help.

“She says she wants
you to go with us to the ballet. We are going to see Cinderella this afternoon.
You’re welcome to join us, of course.”

I nod yes, and a
smile that would light up the darkest night spreads across her face.

“Would you like to go
home and get changed and cleaned up first?” he asks.

I cock my head to the
side and give him an ‘are you out of your fucking mind’ expression.

“We can go with you,
Holland. I swear I’m not trying to keep you apart anymore. I never was. I told
him to talk to you, but you know him, he wouldn’t listen. I’m his father,
Holland. I had an affair with his mother, and we could never tell anyone he was
mine. Arturo would have killed me—her too, probably. I had to stand on
the sidelines and watch Arturo put his drug business ahead of him when I wanted
to claim him as my own. I participated in his life as much as a security guard
could without looking suspicious, so believe me when I tell you that I want you
to be with your daughter.”

“You’re . . . his
father?” Juliette has been swinging her eyes back and forth between Sebastián
and me, trying to catch some of our conversation. She takes my face between her
hands, forcing me to focus on her. When she has all of my attention, she begins
to sign again.

“She wants to go to
your house, she caught that much of our conversation. If you have more
questions, we can talk in the car.”

“Okay.” I nod so
Juliette knows we are leaving. She squirms out of my arms and bolts out of the
room. She’s probably going to tell King our plans.

“Is King going to the
ballet?”

“Yes, he takes her
every year when they come to watch you play on her birthday.”

“They come every
year?” I think he mentioned that before, but things are just now starting to
sink in.

“How many of my
performances does he come to?”

“Since you became
concertmaster, all of them. Before that, he came to as many as he could without
disrupting Juliette’s schedule.”

That’s a lot of
traveling. I’ve been in almost every country at least once over the past three
years, playing in concerts and auditions. I can’t believe he followed me
everywhere.

“I know you don’t
want to hear it, but he loves you, Holland. He loves you so much, and he’s so
incredibly proud of you. He never shuts up about how talented you are, and he
constantly fills Juliette’s head with stories about you. He shows her
photographs and videos. He wanted her to know you. He was planning on
contacting you this year, but I was tired of his plan. She was growing up, and
you were missing it. She needed you, and so did he, so I betrayed him, and I
don’t regret it for a second.”

I pace back and forth
while he talks. He’s right. I don’t want to hear that. I don’t care what he
wanted or why he wanted it. His plan robbed me of three years with my daughter,
and I’ll never forgive him.

“I’m glad she knows
me, but I was never allowed to know her, and I can’t forgive him for that . . .
ever. There were other ways. He could have talked to me. He could have kept us
safe together. I didn’t need to be a fucking professional violinist. I would
have chosen Juliette a million times over my career. He has a fucked up way of
loving people, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that kind of
love. I just want my daughter back. I want to get to know her, learn how to
communicate with her, and have her in my life.”

I stop and turn to
face Sebastián. His eyes are sad and defeated. He must have thought there was a
chance for King and me.

He was wrong.

“I was afraid you’d
feel this way.”

“Can you blame me?” I
cross my arms over my chest and stare at him hard.

“No, I guess I don’t.
You have no idea of the danger you were in, though, and I just hoped . . .” He
slides his hands in his pockets and looks at the floor.

“I can’t believe
you’re his real daddy.” I narrow my eyes and look closer at Sebastian’s
features. King has his strong chiseled bone structure and his dark eyes. I can
see the resemblance now.

“I know; it’s been so
good to finally get it out in the open. It’s what got him out of the drug
business.”

“He’s out of the
business? How?”

“He wasn’t a Romero.
His connection didn’t trust him anymore. He was of no value to the cartels
anymore, so they backed off.”

“When? When did they
know?”

He shuffles his feet.

“A year ago.”

“A year? He could
have brought her back a year ago?”

“I’m telling you,
Holland, everything he does, he does it for you or that little girl in there.
You were doing so well he—”

“Sebastián, just
stop. I don’t care anymore. I stopped loving him a long time ago. I almost died
when he left. And then when Dax gave me hope, he swooped in and squashed that
too.”

 
“Dax? You should thank King for getting
rid of him. He wasn’t worthy to breathe the same air as you. He was a major
player. He saw you as a challenge, and when he conquered you he would have left
you more broken than before.”

“I couldn’t have been
more broken than I already was.”

“I hear you're going
to the ballet with us,” King says, entering the room with an ecstatic Juliette.

“Ah, yeah . . . I
need to go home and get cleaned up first, but I’m not letting her out of my
sight, King, not for a second, do you understand?” I’m standing my ground on
this. I may never let this child out of my sight as long as she lives.

“Of course,
absolutely. The car is waiting for us downstairs. Are you ready?”

 
“I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

King

It’s been one month
since Holland and Juliette were reunited, and I’m no closer to convincing her
that everything I did was to keep her alive. We’ve been staying in Puerto Rico
for two weeks, and she has all but ignored me every single second since we
stepped off the plane. I’m not complaining, really. She’s building a
relationship with Juliette, learning sign
language,
swimming with her, watching movies, playing games . . . I just wish they would
include me once in a while. It’s torture living in the same house day after
day, seeing her in her sexy bikini, smelling her perfume on the cushions of the
couch long after she’s gone to bed, and watching her absentmindedly run her
fingers through her hair when she concentrating.

How could I have been
so wrong? It’s so easy to see now that this is where she belongs, raising our
daughter and living under my roof. She seems to have come to life these past
few weeks. She laughs often her skin glows, and I’m always catching her
humming. I’ve even heard her play her violin for Juliette. She’s fascinated
with the instrument. She may not be able to hear, but she loves to touch it,
pluck the strings and feel the vibrations when Holland plays for her.

I find Sebastián
drinking coffee on the terrace.

“Morning,” he says,
lifting his cup. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.
Retirement agrees with you, old man.”

“Thanks.”

 
“Where are the girls?”

I pull out a chair and
sit across from him under the perfect, warm Puerto Rican sun. He points toward
the beach, where Holland and Juliette are building a sand castle. They stop
occasionally to sign to one another, and my heart melts.

“I have to take them
to Houston.”

Sebastián stares
quietly as Juliette dumps water on Holland and Holland shrieks and sprinkles
sand in Juliette’s hair.

“She’s never going to
let it go, King.”

“I know.”

“Then why the trip
home?”

“I have to keep
trying. I love her. Now that I’ve seen how it should have been, I can’t give up
on us.”

Sebastián sighs and
pinches the bridge of his nose.

He thinks it’s
hopeless, but he hasn’t seen the glimmer of our old love in her eyes. He
doesn’t know that sometimes she stops to watch me before she enters a room. I
can feel her there. He doesn’t know her tells, but I’ll never forget the way
she rubs the side of her neck or how she puts her finger on her bottom lip when
she’s thinking about me.

“It couldn’t hurt to
make sure things are running smoothly at Ecstasy I guess,” he says.

“We could stay a
night or two in the apartment and a few at the house.”

“Why did you keep
that club, anyway?”

“Sentimental reasons.
I couldn’t sell the place where I met her.”

He lifts his eyebrows
skeptically. “I don’t think she’s going to go for that. She’ll never let
Juliette stay in a dance club, King.”

“Yeah, you’re
probably right. We will go to the house then.”
            

“I’ll call Candy and
tell her to stay in Houston with Leo. She was planning on coming back tomorrow,
but this will save her a trip. Does she know?”

“About Leo and Candy?
No, I feel like she’s had enough to process lately. It can wait.”
           
 

“She’s going to be
pissed when she finds out Candy was in on this.”

“Another reason not
to say anything just yet.”

“King, Candy’s my
wife now. You can’t keep avoiding her. Holland is going to find out about
Candy’s involvement as soon as she talks to her.”

“Then she won’t talk
to her for a while. I need time.”

He shakes his head
and takes a drink of his coffee.

“Forever isn’t long
enough for her to forgive you, King. I’m sorry, but I think the sooner you
accept, that the better off you’ll be.”

“Never. If it takes
forever, then I’ll spend forever convincing her that I love her.”

He stands to leave
and rests his hand on my shoulder.

“I admire your
tenacity, son, but I’m not sure what you’ve done is reversible. Some damage is
permanent.”

He squeezes my
shoulder and leaves me alone to watch my girls . . .
my
girls,
as in both of
them. They’re mine . . . I will never give up.

***

“Why can’t we go
together, Daddy?” Juliette signs.

“Because Daddy has to
go tonight to get some things ready, and Mommy doesn’t like flying in our
plane.” I sign back to her.

“Why doesn’t she like
our plane?” she signs with her adorable brown dimpled hands.

“Mommy likes people,
she likes to be with lots of people when she travels, and she likes big
planes.”

It’s not true. She
prefers the jet, but it’s the first thing that came to mind when she asked, so
I went with it. Holland doesn’t want to fly in the jet because of me. She said
she couldn’t stand to be in such a small space with me for that long because
she hates me that much. She agreed to go, though, so I didn’t argue about it. I
just need her in Houston, in our old house, so she will remember how it was
before I destroyed her life. I wanted to go back ahead anyway to make sure the
house is in order, and a few special things are waiting for her when she
arrives.

Juliette’s bottom lip
sticks out in a pout. She’s not used to being separated from me. Whenever I
have traveled in the past, she has come with me, but Holland refuses to allow
her out of her sight. She still doesn’t trust me. She sleeps in the same room
as Juliette every night. She even goes so far as to lock the door when they go
to bed.

Sometimes I think
Sebastián is right. She’ll never forgive me if she can’t even trust me not to
take Juliette from her bed in the middle of the night.

“I have a surprise
for you there. I have to go first so I can get it ready,” I sign, trying to
make her forget about traveling separately.

“A surprise? I want a
surprise,” she signs with excitement.

“Okay, then Daddy has
to go tonight, and you and Mommy will come tomorrow.”

She nods her head up
and down and her eyes sparkle with anticipation. I’ve tried not to spoil her
with material things like my father—or I guess I should say
Arturo—did with me. I keep the gifts down to a dull roar unless it’s a
birthday or Christmas, so a surprise is a big deal for her.

I kiss her on the
nose and then each cheek. She hugs me tight and signs, “I love you.” I sign
that I love her back, and Holland guides her into their bedroom without a
word—no goodbye, no safe travels, no fuck off, dickhead, nothing. I’m not
sure what else to do to win her back. I’ve sent her flowers—lame, I know.
I’ve left her gifts of jewelry, trinkets, electronics,
music
.
She returns them all to the floor outside my bedroom each night. I’ve pledged
my love and loyalty. The only thing I have left in my arsenal is something I
don’t want to give to her.

I kept a journal
every single day we were apart. I wrote down all of Juliette’s milestones and
her daily activities, from how many times she burped to what day she learned
which color of the rainbow. At the end of each entry, I wrote her a love letter—not
a note, but a
letter—
every day.
Every feeling and experience I had for three years is written down in those
books.

It’s a double-edged
sword. If I give it to her, she will see how much I thought about her and that
I never stopped loving her for one second, but she will also know everything
she missed, everything I took from her.