I sat there, listening to their back and forth for a while before my mother dismissed me in a not-so-subtle way. "Go! Get out of here," she added, shooing me. "Go find your father and do something manly. We'll take good care of your Brynn until you get back."
I smiled at the way she worded that-my Brynn-and then shot Brynn a look, making sure she was truly comfortable before I left her. I'd made a promise before bringing her in today and I intended to keep it. She looked more than content being fawned over by my mom and sisters, so when she gave me a nod, I headed out to the garage. On my way, I shot her a quick text, letting her know all she had to do was message me if she needed rescuing.
The smell of motor oil and saw dust was welcoming and familiar-the aroma of my father's sanctuary. His head popped up from behind the Cutlass and he smiled when he saw me coming toward him. The sound of sandpaper running over wood came to a stop.
"You made it," he said enthusiastically as he placed whatever he was working on aside, setting it on top of his workbench when he stood.
We hugged briefly and then I shoved my hands inside my pockets.
"And your lady friend?" he asked next. "She's with you?"
Again, I nodded, aiming a thumb over my shoulder toward the house when I spoke. "She's inside with Ma, Luce, and Lorna."
A broad smile stretched his face. "And they're on their best behavior?" was his next inquiry.
I laughed a bit. "As much as can be expected. Brynn hasn't come running out of the house screaming, so I suppose that's a good sign."
He laughed and then stood beside me with his back resting against the car. The word "So … " came before a loaded pause and I turned toward my dad to see what it meant.
"So?"
He nudged me with his elbow. "A few months have passed since finding out you're gonna be a dad," he started. "Is it starting to feel real yet?"
I thought before speaking. There was a good stretch of time that all this felt like a dream-at times a bad one, before I came to my senses-but now the idea of being a father had actually grown on me.
"Yeah, it definitely feels real," I said, as a smile broke through. "I think seeing her, the baby, during the ultrasound made it even more real."
I thought back to that day and remembered what it was like to see those tiny hands and those tiny feet. I'd never wanted to protect anyone more in my life.
My dad grinned big as he thought back. "I remember going with your Ma to all four of you and your sisters' ultrasounds. It was … it was incredible," he added. "I know technology has come a long way since then, with the 3-D imaging and all of that, but it was enough just for me to get to see that you all were safe and sound." Another nostalgic pause crept in and he stayed with that thought when he spoke again. "There's something about bringing a life into the world that changes people.
I agreed with that wholeheartedly. If I had to guess, Brynn and I would both be evolving throughout this process, even more than we already had.
Coming out of his own memory of the life he and my mother made for themselves, my father lifted his brows suggestively, drawing a laugh out of me with the expression.
"And what about Brynn? I know you've been saying you two are just working on being friends, but," he paused and nudged me again, this time smiling, "you know … has anything changed?"
Several thoughts crossed my mind, none of which were definitive. Had things between Brynn and I changed since I first found out she was expecting? Yes, drastically. There was no more animosity between us and I was always thinking about her; wondering how she was doing, wondering what she was doing, but we weren't moving toward anything solid. My father's question lingered inside my head and I wasn't really sure how to answer it, so I just said what was on my mind.
"I care about her," I confessed. "And now that I've gotten to know her, I like her."
"See?" My dad grinned. "That sounds like progress to me."
I shook my head, though, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "She and I are clear on where we stand. We're friends. I care about all my friends. I mean, she's carrying my little girl, so yeah … naturally, I care about her more than my boys, but … " I paused in the middle of my rationalization, wondering if I was making excuses for some of the things I'd been feeling lately, like not being able to think about anything other than Brynn most days. Even with Elena last weekend, my thoughts were on Brynn's big, pretty eyes, her curves, our baby.
I lowered my head and I swear my father was reading my mind.
"Are you sure it's not more than that?" The question was asked, but I didn't get the impression he expected an answer. It was more like he wanted me to think deeper, harder.
His hand came down on my shoulder and I looked his way. "A man's desire, a good man's desire," he corrected, "is always his family."
I let that sink in and he went on.
"And while, yes, your mother, sisters, nieces, and I are your family, Marco … you've also started your own." He pointed toward the house where Brynn was. "It doesn't always matter how things come to be. Sometimes the more important thing is what you do with what you've been given."
Brynn
Dinner smelled delicious. My eyes wandered over the spread in front of me and I remembered Marco saying his mother went all out like this every Sunday. Cooking for a family this size was a chore, so it was clear these gatherings were a labor of love.
A metal storm-door closed somewhere toward the back of the house and heavy footsteps came right after. One last dish was brought out to the table as the faucet was turned on in the kitchen. In Spanish, Marco's mother playfully chastised him and his father, reminding them to wash their hands before heading to the dinner table. They obliged, of course, and then he appeared in the entryway-tall, handsome, smiling-but he wasn't alone. Behind him stood a man of equal stature and similar features-the same bronzed complexion, a stern jaw, and piercingly dark eyes. This had to be his father.
"Brynn, I'd like for you to meet my dad," Marco said, confirming.
I was just getting ready to stand and shake Mr. Rios' hand, but he wouldn't hear of it. With quick steps, he moved toward me.
"Don't, don't, don't," he beckoned softly. "I'll come to you."
I smiled, seeing where Marco got babying me from. Apparently, he inherited his father's chivalrous nature. My hand was taken and a kiss was placed on the back of it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he greeted me, but then added a warm, "And welcome to our little family."
My heart squeezed inside my chest. This … they'd all been so sweet to me and I knew that had everything to do with Marco. His introduction of me, of how he wanted me to be treated, had preceded my first interaction with his family. Yes, the kindness I encountered today was genuine, but it was also because of him. If I had to guess, before bringing me, he'd made it clear that I was to be respected just like he respected me.
"The pleasure is all mine," I replied to his father, and then my hand slipped from his as he moved toward a seat.
The family gathered around the table and there were a couple empty chairs. Marco's brother-in-law was with his own side of the family today and there was also a sister and a niece missing if I remembered correctly. I no longer worried about meeting the rest of his people. I was sure that whoever else showed up would welcome me in just the same manner as the others had.
Marco filled the seat beside me and a content smile settled on his lips. Beneath the table, he found my hand in my lap and our fingers slipped between one another's, interlocking like second nature. Mr. Rios said grace over the meal and then dishes were passed quickly, but yet in an orderly fashion. They clearly had a system after having done this for so long.
Conversation during dinner was light and I got lost in it. One thing became clear to me, though. While, yes, Mr. Rios was very much respected among them, Marco was regarded as the patriarch. I wasn't sure what the cause of that dynamic was, or even if the others were aware, but I saw it. Whenever someone sought approval for something, they looked to Marco. Whenever an opinion was needed, their eyes went to him. It was interesting to watch, especially the fact that his father didn't seem to mind his son being held in such high regard. In fact, there was pride in his eyes as he watched and listened to Marco as he interacted with the others.
Plates were cleared away and new ones were brought to the table for dessert. And just like Lucia had predicted earlier, someone knocked at the door and I assumed it was the missing sister and her daughter.