Page 172 of Ricardo

I only know the wrong ones.

Do not chase Dante.

Do not summon Julia into the middle of what he left behind.

Do not let hurt take action.

I sink slowly into the chair behind my desk.

My jaw throbs. My mouth tastes of blood. My house feels too quiet without my son in it; even his anger would be better than this emptiness.

I think of Mario in my office, his voice low.

Let her stand beside you.

I think of Julia in my arms this morning, soft and sleepy and trusting.

I think of Dante standing where she stood only hours ago, looking at me as if I had stolen something from him; something he might never get back.

My hand curls into a fist on the desk.

I can survive my son’s anger.

I deserve much of it.

What I do not know is whether he can survive the feeling that love made liars of us all.

Chapter Twenty Three

Julia

Ricardo’s mouth is split.

It is the first thing I see when I walk into his study where Marisa directed me, even though he turns his head slightly as if that will make it less obvious. The skin at the corner of his lower lip is swollen, darkening already. There is a faint smear of red near his jaw that he missed when he tried to wipe the blood away.

My chest tightens so hard I have to stop just inside the doorway.

“Julia,” he says.

His voice is gentle, which somehow makes it worse.

There is a towel with ice sitting on the desk that I suspect is Marisa's work.

Marisa stands near the desk with a small bowl of ice wrapped in a towel. Her expression before she walks out of the room is pinched with worry, and when her eyes flick to mine, I can tell she knows more than she wants to know.

For a moment, I do not move.

Ricardo is standing near the window in shirtsleeves, his tie gone, the top button of his shirt undone. For the first time, except when we're in bed, he looks uncomposed. There's tension in his shoulders. And I know without him even telling me that Dante was here, furious enough and hurt enough to hit him. To hit his own father.

And it’s my fault.

I press my fingers to my lips.

“Oh, God.”

I walk across the room toward him, eyes burning. I lift a trembling hand toward his face, then stop before I touch him.

His gaze softens.