I Still Wanted Her

Elena agreed to the paternity test on Sunday.

"I want to know," she said. "I don't want everybody looking at my face like it's an answer sheet."

Sofia sat beside her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You?"

"I've always been sure about who your father is. This is for you and Luca."

We used an independent service, with the arrangements explained to Elena before anything happened. I made no calls to hurry the result. For once, waiting was a responsibility rather than an insult.

It arrived later that week.

Sofia read it first, then handed it to Elena. The girl examined the page for a long time before looking at me.

"Okay," she said.

I had imagined tears. An embrace. Something large enough to match the feeling in my chest.

Instead, she folded the report.

"You can stop looking so worried."

"I'll try."

"Does this change anything?"

"It tells us something we wanted to know. It doesn't mean you owe me anything."

She considered that, then nodded toward the chair.

"Sit down, then. You're making me nervous."

I sat.

After a moment she passed me the paper. My hand wasn't steady when I took it.

"You can keep a copy," she said.

That was what nearly broke me.

Enzo was walking short distances by then, furious about it. He called from the room next door and demanded an audience.

"You made a person," he said when I entered.

"Apparently."

"Poor kid."

I pulled a chair beside his bed. "She already agrees with you about most things."

He smiled, then moved carefully and winced.

"We need to talk about the river."

I put my phone away.

Enzo had received a message from a former associate in Antonio's office. The man claimed to have information about Sofia and a child. He arranged a meeting using the phrase bringing you the truth.

"I didn't tell you because I thought it was a scam," Enzo said. "If it wasn't, I wanted something solid before I dropped it on you."

"So you went alone."

"With a driver. I wasn't entirely stupid."

The associate gave him a folder containing copies of surveillance reports and old financial records. Before Enzo could get back to his car, the ambush began.

"One of them asked whether I'd called you," he said. "Another said Hale wanted everything returned."

"Victor."

"That's what the investigators are looking at. The driver heard part of it too. He's given a statement."

The warning finally became a warning about something real, not a riddle pointing toward every person I loved.

"Daniel's brother had copies of some of the same records," I said. "Elena was taking them to him when she crashed."

Enzo closed his eyes briefly.

"They were cleaning up both ends."

"They thought nobody would connect them."

He watched me. "What are you going to do?"

I had spent years knowing the answer before anyone asked.

"Keep them safe. Give the investigators what we have."

"And when that isn't satisfying?"

"Then I'll be unsatisfied."

Enzo nodded slowly. "That's new."

That evening Rosa took over Elena's bedside so Sofia could rest. I found her in the family room with the blue box open and a vending-machine coffee cooling beside her.

"That tastes terrible," I said.

"I know."

"Why drink it?"

"Because it's here."

I brought her a fresh cup from the cafe downstairs. She took a sip and looked suspiciously at me.

"You remembered."

"Cream. No sugar. You always said sweet coffee tasted like someone had melted dessert into it."

"I still say that."

I sat beside her. Not across the table this time. She didn't move away.

The photographs lay in little piles. Elena at the beach. Sofia in a graduation gown. Mateo holding a fish smaller than his hand.

"You graduated?"

"Night classes. Accounting."

"When?"

"Elena was nine. I thought I'd be too tired to attend the ceremony. She threatened to wear my gown herself if I didn't."

"You should have told me."

Sofia turned her head.

"I know," I said quickly. "That's not fair. I just wish I'd been there."

"She cheered so loudly that everyone looked at us."

"Good."

Sofia smiled, properly this time. It changed her whole face.

I had to look down at the pictures.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Luca."

"I've missed that."

The smile faded, but she didn't close the box.

I picked up a photograph of Elena wearing a crooked paper hat.

"She looks like you here."

"She looks like you when she's annoyed."

"That seems unfair."

"It's been unfair to me for seventeen years."

I laughed. She laughed too, then put a hand over her mouth as though the sound had surprised her.

Without thinking, I reached to touch the loose strand of hair against her cheek.

I stopped before I got there.

Sofia watched my hand.

"You can," she whispered.

I brushed the strand back. Her skin was warm under my knuckles. She closed her eyes, and I felt her lean toward me by the smallest possible distance.

"I don't know how to do this," I said.

"Neither do I."

She touched the side of my face, the place where a scar had faded since she last saw me.

"What happened?"

"Something stupid."

"Of course."

Her thumb rested near my mouth.

"Sofia."

She kissed me before I could ask.

It was brief at first. Then her fingers tightened against my shirt, and I put my arms around her. The familiar weight of her against me hurt so much that I almost pulled back.

I had remembered kissing her. I had forgotten the little breath she took afterward, the way her hand stayed at my neck.

When she drew away, her eyes were wet.

"I missed you," she said.

I touched her cheek.

"I missed you too."

She caught my wrist gently.

"That doesn't mean I trust you."

My arms loosened.

She stood and began putting the photographs away.

"The doctor thinks Elena can leave next week. I've spoken to my employer about a branch position near my mother's town in Wisconsin."

"You're leaving Chicago."

Sofia closed the box.

"Yes."