What a mess.

Abena stood in the middle of the suite with her arms wrapped around her waist, watching Santiago pace the floor like an irate lion. They’d made record time walking back to the hotel with him holding onto her hand, forcing her to nearly run the entire way to keep up with his long, angry strides.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He stopped moving. “No. I want to forget and pretend the meeting with them never took place.”

A pinch of guilt niggled her chest. If she hadn’t encouraged him to see his father and meet his fiancée, none of this would have happened. During her brief meeting with Constantino in Buenos Aires, she gauged the type of man he was. Too slick and too abrupt, he rubbed her the wrong way. His bully tactics included making demands as if she were a lowly worker who didn’t merit his time or respect. Seeing him today confirmed her first impression, but also demonstrated he was so much worse than she imagined. His unwanted attention made her skin crawl, and the way he treated Santiago made her want to smash a bottle of vino over his head.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Santiago snapped open the curtains with a vengeance and stared out at the sunny day. His shoulders moved up and down with his heavy breathing. “Be glad you have a parent who loves you, no matter how imperfect. Some people don’t have even that.”

His words broke her heart. She wanted to tell him he had her, she loved him, but she didn’t think he wanted to hear an admission of love. She certainly wasn’t yet brave enough to share the words that trembled on the edge of her lips every time she saw him, or they made love, or he simply touched her.

At Larios, she experienced every emotion he did. His shock and pain had been real for her, as if the wounds had been inflicted on her own heart. She wanted to protect him, but didn’t know how. She could only imagine the maelstrom of emotions coursing through him at the sight of his old lover and father together. How Constantino could stoop so low and do something so vile was unfathomable. He’d purposely set out to hurt Santiago, of that there was no doubt.

Since she spoke Spanish fluently, she understood everything they said. Constantino all but admitted the revenge he sought took root when Elena left their marriage for another man.

“Why don’t I get you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” Santiago said in a clipped voice.

“Santiago, you can’t let—”

“Abena.” One hand clenched into a tight fist, and he turned to face her. “I want to be alone right now.” She opened her mouth to argue. “That’s non-negotiable.”

She swallowed and resolved not to feel sorry for herself. He was not rejecting her. He simply wanted alone time. “Okay. I’ll get my things.”

She went up to the bed and after pulling her clothes from the closet, quickly stuffed them in her overnight bag. In the bathroom, she swept her toiletries atop the clothes and then swung the bag over her shoulder. When she stepped out, Santiago stood right there. They faced each other in silence.

He took her hand in his. “I need time to myself. To think,” he said.

“I understand. Sometimes we need a moment to sort things out. Don’t take too long.” She ran the back of her fingers along his hair-roughened jaw.

He gave her the semblance of a smile. “Or else what? I’ll never have another chance with you?”

“Nothing so dramatic.” She didn’t want anyone else. They were two workaholics in a chaotic field. Not too many people understood her drive or the love of the job. But he did. And she understood him. They understood each other, and she couldn’t imagine waking up next to anyone but him. “Don’t get lost in your head too much.”

Santiago placed a hand on her bare shoulder and pulled her closer. She leaned into his touch, and their lips touched in a gentle kiss. She sighed against his mouth, already missing him and wished he’d let her stay and keep him company while he was hurting. But that was her selfishness talking.

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered.

Then she left.

---

This place was her refuge. Abena parked in the driveway of her aunt’s house like she’d done too many times to count.

The one light in the front of the house shone from the window of Kwei’s room. Her aunt and uncle’s bedroom was located in the back, so unless she walked around the side of the house, she wouldn’t know if they were also awake. She didn’t doubt it, though. It was early enough that the entire house—except for the littlest ones—might be up.

At the condo earlier, she spent a lot of time thinking—about Santiago’s nonexistent relationship with his father, and her relationship with her mother. His words haunted her all day, not allowing any rest while she tried to relax at home.

Be glad you have a parent who loves you, no matter how imperfect.

The familial bond was such an important part of her culture. The concept didn’t limit family to father, mother, and children, but included the extended family of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. And right now she wanted her family.

Abena trudged up the walkway and let herself into the house. The light from the TV screen flickered in the back. She found her Aunt Baaba dozing on the sofa, but her head snapped up when she sensed Abena’s presence.

“Maadwo, Auntie. You were asleep. I should have called first,” Abena said in a low voice.

“Of course not. You are always welcome here.” Baaba patted the place next to her and Abena sat down, leaning into her aunt. “Something wrong?”

For a few seconds, Abena watched a political pundit review the latest developments in the current administration. “I missed you and I was thinking about Mommy. There is a lot of ugliness in the world, but I’m so lucky. I have two mothers with different points of view to guide me. And though Mommy drives me crazy at times, I know she loves me.”

Baaba’s ample bosom shook when she laughed. “She does love you. You are her world. Before you were born, your parents tried to get pregnant for many years. You are truly her gift. She just does not want you to turn out like me.” She patted Abena’s hand.

“I would do well to turn out like you. You’re brave and smart. You have a happy family.”

“I was a very wild girl. I caused a lot of problems and gave Effia many headaches as she raised me.” Baaba shook her head. “That’s how she remembers me, and that’s why she is so hard on you.”

“You never told me that. You must have some great stories.”

“Stories I will never repeat.”

They both laughed.

Abena rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder. “I’m seeing someone.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“You don’t dress the same. You show more skin with your pretty shoes.”

“Do you think the way I dress is bad?”

“No.” Baaba patted her hand again. “Your character is not determined by how you dress. There are terrible people who wear suits every day.”

Abena smiled, and they quietly watched television for a few minutes.

“I’m worried Mommy will not approve. He’s not African or black,” she said.

“Are you happy?” her aunt asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we will work on your mother. When do I get to meet this young man?”

“Not yet. One day, when I’m sure.”

“About what?”

“About him,” Abena said quietly.

She didn’t need to explain further. Baaba grunted her understanding. They sat quietly, and after a while, Abena heard her aunt’s snores.

“Me dor wo,” she whispered, using Twi to express her love for her aunt.

The snoring stopped. “Me nso dor wo.” I love you, too.