“Earth to Harper.” Snapping fingers in front of my face pull me from my thoughts. Camille stands in front of me with one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. What’s with you?”

I shake my head and plaster a smile on my face. “Nothing.”

Camille rolls her eyes, not believing me for one second. “How was dinner with our sexy new owner? Can he be our boss? He can boss me around any time.”

“Camille!” I can’t hold in the laughter.

She shrugs, barely concealing a smile. “What? I bet he likes it kinky. He’s so perfectly polished in that suit. You just know he only gets dirty in the bedroom. I’ll gladly volunteer for that job.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Oh. I see what’s going on here.” She holds her hands out in front of her taking a step back. “I’ll back off.”

My face scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’re into him. Did y’all bang last night? Please tell me he dragged you into a coat closet and fucked you while all the other tenants were out at his little shindig. Jesus, that man is fine.”

“Camille!” I can’t hold in the laughter and can’t bring myself to scold her for talking like that in my store. I just hope she’ll keep her mouth shut if a customer walks in.

“Give me all the dirty details.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“No details to give. Dirty or otherwise.” I say, walking away. At least no details like she wants. A bomb dropped on the life I thought I knew? That’s a different story. I had stayed awake most of the night, trying to recall any memory of a mention from Santiago. He was a constant in my life—cheering just as loudly as my parents at my kindergarten graduation, coming with bouquets to every dance recital, and consoling me through my darkest days. Why would he lie to me?

“No details to give because nothing happened, or no details because you don’t want to share?”

“No details because nothing happened and nothing will happen. He’s my landlord. That’s it.” I glance down at my watch. “Get out of here, it’s your lunch time.”

Her shoulders drop as she grabs her purse from the counter. “It’s a shame you’re letting that go to waste. He was totally checking you out yesterday.”

I point toward the door. “Get out of here! You’re lucky I don’t fire you.”

She struts away, swaying her hips in a dramatic fashion, flinging open the door as she calls over her shoulder, “You wouldn’t dare.”

The smile falls from my face the second she walks out the door, my mind going back to its endless questions. Why would Uncle Santiago lie? Why would he keep a child a secret? Is Rafael lying? No, it’s not a lie. I don’t know how I know, but I know in my gut he’s telling the truth.

I wish there was someone I could ask. My parents are gone. My sister is gone. Uncle Santiago is gone. I’m not friends with anyone from my past and even if I was, none of my friends knew my father and uncle like I did, except one person.

My dad and Uncle Santiago grew up in rough neighborhoods, bouncing around from house to house in the foster system. Santiago made one of his missions in life to give back to the old neighborhood, hoping that at least one kid would be able to walk away from the threats of that life. The one person who might know more about Uncle Santiago than me is the last person I want to think about, much less speak with. Santiago took him under his wing and led him to the path that he’s on today.

Roman Marx. My ex-boyfriend. The only boy I ever loved. He was intricately woven into my life before my family died. It’s as simple as picking up the phone to call him; there’d be no hesitation on his end, and he’d fill me in on everything he knows. Or he’d dig into the past until he could answer any question I throw at him. He doesn’t tell me things are impossible. If I ask, he will find a way. No questions, no hesitations. It doesn’t matter. Even after all this time, I know I can call him. If I begged him to break the world down to its core, he’d make it happen. He may not love me anymore. We may not be together, but my soul is bound to his.

It should be as simple as picking up the phone.

It’s really not that simple, though.

I could never bring myself to delete his number from my phone, and even if I did, I have it memorized. It’s ingrained in my memory just as much as his touch. Do I call him and ask, but risk having my heart broken when I hear his voice? Or do I let this go and move on, accepting I can’t have answers from the grave?

I’ve never been good about letting things go.