I walked a full five blocks from the house, ignoring the fine sunshine of the late April weather as I whipped out my phone to call Xavier.
He answered on the first ring.
“Can you read my mind?” he asked. “I was literally pulling up your number. Are you around this weekend? I’d like to see Sof, but I also want to talk something over with you.”
“Is it true?” I demanded, ignoring all his questions.
“That I’m the best chef in England? Of course it’s true.” He was trying to joke, but uneasiness slid through his tone. “What do you mean? What is it, Ces?”
“You lied to me,” I said, voice quavering under the stress. “You lied to Sofia. Matthew’s—my brother’s—whatever. She told me everything!”
“Told you what?” His voice was oddly calm. Almost stony.
“Who you really are!” I exploded. “That you’re not really just estranged from your father. That he died four years ago. That you’re not just a restauranteur in London, but you’re a fucking earl, a member of the peerage, something like, I don’t know, probably eighteenth in line for the throne of England!”
“Forty-seventh,” Xavier muttered as if he couldn’t help it. “And it’s a duchy, not an earldom.”
“Oh my God!” I paced angrily up and down the street, kicking rocks, causing a few pigeons to fly up to escape my wrath. “You haven’t been flying back and forth between here and England to take care of your restaurants, have you? You’ve been taking care of your fucking estates. Still attending the Season or going to court or whatever else it is you stupid gentry do in your spare time!”
“What? No? Jesus, Ces, is that what you think of me?”
“I don’t know what to think of you anymore. I thought we were being straight with each other, Xavi. You said there were no more secrets. You said you told me everything!”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
Then, “Who told you this?” His voice was subzero in temperature. “What exactly happened?”
“Nina de Vries happened.” The name tasted sour on my tongue. I knew it wasn’t her fault per se, but right now I could have quite cheerfully shot the messenger of this particular news.
“Nina de Vries. You mean Eric’s cousin?”
“I mean yet another filthy rich person who apparently gets to know your secrets when your daughter and I don’t.” I swiped at my eyes, tears pricking their edges. No. No. He was not going to make me cry about this, of all things. Not again. Not ever. “You really think I’m an idiot, don’t you? Stupid, simple girl from the Bronx, too out of touch, too common to ever discover that you’re not just the estranged kid of some rich guy, but that you’re actually a duke!”
I shrieked, only barely stopping myself from throwing the phone into oncoming traffic. I whirled around to face two men about my age striding down the street, chatting cheerfully in a mix of Spanish and English. One of them looked me up and down, and the other grinned.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” I snarled, my inner bitch coming right up to the surface.
They scurried on their way, but only after one of them gave a low, foreboding whistle.
“Francesca!” Xavier was calling through the speaker. “Francesca, come back to the fucking phone!”
“What?” I snapped.
“Can I just ask, what’s really the problem here? Is it that I’m a duke, or that I wasn’t one before?”
I turned toward the street, which was mostly still except for the occasional car. “Neither. It’s that you lied. I could have looked you up on the internet. I’m not an idiot, Xavier. But I didn’t.”
“And why the fuck not?” he exploded. “Anyone else would have. If you’re so bloody smart, why didn’t you just find all of this out yourself instead of waiting for me to tell you, eh?”
“Because you should have told me!” I shrieked back. “Just like you should have told your daughter. Because I wanted to know if you really changed. But you haven’t, have you? You’re still the same lying, secretive, immoral bastard you always were. So what am I supposed to do now, Xavi? You’ve made us—you’ve made her, Sofia, fall in love with you.” I hiccupped over another sob that I was determined to keep buried. “What—what am I supposed to do now?”
There was another long pause. “You’re supposed to tell her I’m her dad, like was always planned. I’ll tell her the rest, Ces. I won’t lie to her. She’s my daughter.”
“She is,” I admitted through a hushed sob. “But what does that make me?”
He sighed, but then there was a muffled noise while he spoke to someone else on the other end of the line. When he came back on, he was clearly moving, almost out of breath.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything, Ces. Just let me explain.”
I stood there on the street, listening to the sounds of my neighborhood swirling around me. For years, I’d wanted nothing more than to escape these humble streets. I’d wanted something outside of the mishmash of brick apartment buildings and ramshackle houses, where no one had nice cars or nice clothes or nice anything, but everyone knew exactly who they were and what they wanted. A good amaretto or a ride downtown. Sin on Saturday, confession on Sunday. Work, play, pray, repeat. Simple.
I’d looked down on all of it for so long. But no more.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “You had your chance with us, Xavi, and you blew it. I think we’re done.”