Chapter 21


    “Yes,” I mutter.


    “What a lovely portrait of Ana.”


    On the wall facing my desk, a monochrome Ana looks captivating as she stares at us, her smile sweet


    and shy, hinting at her amusement and belying her strength. I like to think she’sughing at me in that


    way she does; in that way that makes meugh at myself. “My newly acquired portrait. Her friend from


    WSU, José Rodriguez, took it. He had an exhibition in Pornd. You’ve met him at my ce. The night


    Charlie Tango went down. There’s a series. Seven in total. I had this one installed earlier this week.


    She has such a beautiful smile.” I’m babbling.


    Carrick’s look is warm but guarded, and he runs his hand through his hair.


    “Christian, I—” He stops, as if he’s had a particrly painful thought.


    “What?” I ask.


    “I came to apologize.”


    And just like that all the wind is out of my sails, and I’m becalmed and lost at sea.


    “What I said was wrong. I was angry. At myself.” His gaze sears mine as his fingers grip the handle of


    the old valise that he’s had for years. My throat tightens and burns as I search for something to say,


    and I remember how his briefcase always sat on a weathered chair in his study.


    “Christian, this is the second school that has been forced to expel you for your belligerent behavior.”


    Dad is beside himself. He’s in full asshole mode. “This is totally uneptable. Your mother and I are at


    our wits’ end.” He paces in front of his desk, his hands behind his back.


    I stand before him, my knuckles raw and throbbing. My side aches from the kicking I’ve endured. But I


    don’t give a fuck. Wilde deserved it. Stupid bullying prick. He likes to pick on kids smaller than he is.


    Poorer than he is. He’s garbage, and the fucker’s been expelled, too.


    “Son, we are running out of options.”


    Dad and Mom are connected. I know they can find some other school. Fuck it, I don’t need to further


    my education.


    Còntens bel0ngs to N?(v)elDr/a/ma.Org


    “We’ve even discussed military school.”


    He removes his sses like he’s in a movie and res at me, waiting and wanting a reaction. But fuck


    him. Fuck military school. If that’s what they want to do to get rid of me, fuck them. Bring it. I lower my


    eyes and stare at the stupid case he carries everywhere, ignoring the fire in my throat.


    Why doesn’t he take my side?


    Ever.


    The guy jumped me.


    I stood my ground.


    Fuck him.


    Now the lines around his eyes are deeper and the lenses in his sses thicker, and he’s watching me,


    waiting for an answer to his apology in his calm and patient way.


    Dad.


    I nod. “Me, too,” I murmur.


    “Good.” He clears his throat and nces once more at Ana on my wall. “She’s a beautiful girl.”


    “She is. In every way.”


    His eyes soften. “Well, I won’t keep you.”


    “Okay.”


    He shes me a quick smile and before I can take another breath he’s gone, the door closing behind


    him.


    I exhale and the knot at the back of my throat tightens and pulls at my heart.


    Fuck. An apology. From my dad. This is a first. I can barely believe it. I look at Ana with her secret


    smile, and it’s as if she knew this wasing. Christian, he’s your dad. He’s only looking out for you. I


    hear her voice in my head and I realize I need to hear her in real time. Now.


    I return to my desk and grab my phone.


    Ana answers in one ring as if she’s been expecting my call. “Hi.” Her tone is soft and breathy, a gentle


    salve to my ragged soul.


    “Hi,” I whisper. “I’ve missed you.”


    I can almost hear her smile. “I’ve missed you, too, Christian.”


    “Ready for this evening?”


    “Yes.”


    “Council of war?”


    “Yes,” she giggles.


    Tonight. We sort the wedding. At her ce.


    Ana opens the door to her apartment and stands silhouetted in the kitchen light. She’s wearing a floaty


    floral dress I’ve not seen before that’s sheer against the light. All her lines and nes and curves are


    etched like a fine sculpture, outlined just for me. She’s stunning.


    “Hi,” she says.


    “Hi. Nice dress.”


    “This old thing?” She does a quick twirl, the skirt clinging to her legs, and I know she’s worn it


    especially for me.


    “I look forward to peeling you out of thatter.” I hold out the bunch of blush peonies I bought from Pike


    ce Market.


    “Flowers?” Her face glows as she reaches for them and buries her nose in the bouquet.


    “Can’t I buy my fiancée flowers?”


    “You may and you do. Though I believe this is the first time I’ve had a personal delivery.”


    “I think you’re right. May Ie in?”


    Sheughs, opening her arms, and I step into her embrace and hold her close. I nuzzle her hair,


    inhaling her intoxicating fragrance.


    Home. Is. Ana.


    She is my life.


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