"Yes," I said, and even if the words glazed over everything I'd been through with Rafael up to this point, they weren't a lie. When I thought of how things could have played out as a consequence for my foolishness in going to Ibiza in the first place and being naive enough to fall into a temporary relationship with a man I didn't know, I'd been incredibly lucky.
My father's footsteps thudded down the porch steps, his shocked brown eyes meeting mine briefly before he tugged me away from my mother and crushed me to his chest. "Isa," he muttered, swaying side to side as his fingers ran through my hair. His voice murmured gently, a soft thank you on repeat that I didn't think was for me, but to the ancestors for returning me home. To God, for bringing me home safe.
To any being he might have ever believed in, even vaguely and in a distant sort of way.
"You're never leaving the country again," he said, a sob catching in his throat as he tried to huff a laugh.
My heart stalled, reminded of the truth that I knew we would need to confront. They wanted me to be home for good, but this place wasn't my home any longer. "We should move inside,mi reina,"Rafe said softly, drawing me away from my father with the words.
I turned, nodding to him and drawing away from my father to take Rafe's hand in mine. The tense lines of his jaw relaxed, reassured by me actively seeking him out despite the presence of my family.
"Yes, let's go inside," my mother said, nodding her head though she looked at Rafael in confusion. It occurred to me that neither of my parents had made any indication that they even saw him, and I'd been so consumed by the reunion that I hadn’t even realized how odd that felt. "Thank you for bringing her home. I can't thank you enough."
My mother turned, heading for the steps with that confusion still etched on her face when Rafael followed at my side. I realized with a start that she thought he'd just delivered me home.
She didn't realize that the strikingly beautiful man beside me was the very same man Chloe had warned them about. The murderer who had stolen me away. As we approached the stairs, my grandmother emerged in the doorway, her aging face tight with suspicion.
"Nohsehsaeh, what have you brought home?" she asked, her eyes not on me, but settled on Rafael's face. Her lips stayed pressed together tightly, her words hovering in the air as she stepped back into the house and made her way to the living room where she dropped into her favorite chair.
My parents stood together in front of the old fireplace that they never used, staring at me expectantly. I looked up to Rafael, finding him staring down at me. The fact that he waited for my cue and allowed me to begin the introductions warmed the space in my chest that had filled with guilt at seeing the physical symptoms of my parents' worry. I turned to my husband. "Rafe, these are my parents, Waban and Leonora, and my grandmother Alawa.” Ignoring the tension in the room at my brief mention of his name, I soldiered forward even though I knew that what would come would be far worse than the slight hint. “This is Rafael," I said, squeezing his hand. I knew they would recognize the name, that it would fill in the gaps of their knowledge.
The room went still as they processed my words, the joy melting off their faces as they turned to look at the murderer in their living room. "Her husband," Rafe added, turning that tense stillness to pure silence.
Nobody breathed. Not even me as I turned and leveled him with a glare.
What a dick.