5
MIRANDA
Ava was a natural. She pirouetted and flung her arms up, stopped right on the beat, and clapped to the rhythm, as Lachlan’s mom instructed. Her eyes were glued on Ava.
We’d plainly lost my niece to that fiery art form.
A little boy with big dark, friendly eyes stared up at me.
“Hello. Who do you belong to?” I asked.
Lachlan joined him, towering over the child. “He’s with me.”
Before I had a chance to respond, Lachlan kissed me and stroked my cheek affectionately. His blazing blue eyes held me spellbound, as they often did, and I remained transfixed on his handsome face.
The little boy, meanwhile, raced off into the center of the class and stomped his feet. Flamenco seemed to be an appealing art form for children, and he looked the part with his dark curls and big chocolate eyes.
While Lachlan laughed at the child’s impromptu dance performance, my heart froze.
What isn’t he telling me?
Everything went crazy from that point on. While the question remained stuck in my mouth, Belen, after seeing the arrival of the boy, shook her head at Lachlan and held her arms wide. She appeared just as puzzled as I was.
“Un momento,” she said to the guitarist.
After she acknowledged me with a greeting, her attention returned to Lachlan then to the boy, who’d scampered over to join us again.
Belen looked as though she was about to burst into tears. “He is exactly like Brent.” She stared at Lachlan. “Is this his boy? Tell me.”
“No. Of course not.”
I felt like an intruder, considering how personal the situation had become.
Is this Lachlan’s weird way of introducing me to his child? And why only tell his mother now?
“The babysitter’s sick, and as always, his never-there, couldn’t-give-a-shit mother is in Miami. Manuel’s my half brother,” Lachlan said to me.
A sense of relief flushed through me, even though I had no right to feel that way. And I already knew about Manuel. For some reason, I’d totally forgotten—like many things, since Lachlan had entered my life.
“He’s your father’s son?” Belen’s brow wrinkled. “But he doesn’t look anything like him or that bitch.”
“Mom, please. Not now.” Lachlan cast me an apologetic smile.
Belen kept studying the child, who’d gone over to join Ava again. “Dios mio. He’s exactly like Brent. I thought I was having a vision.”
Manuel ran up to her and smiled sweetly. As much as her resentment toward the boy’s parents was obvious, she melted at the sight of the beautiful boy.
She tousled his dark waves, and he giggled. And the longer they were together, the more I could see a resemblance between Belen and the boy. Their eyes were identical.
I also noticed that Lachlan’s face hadn’t relaxed the whole time.
“Venga,” she said, taking the boy’s hand. “Go in there and dance.” Holding up her finger, she became stern. “Only what I show you. All right?”
He flew over to the dance floor and stood by Ava.
Ava and Manuel looked so cute together that I couldn’t stop smiling.
They were both naturals. Manuel took to the steps like a double-jointed person to yoga. Belen looked at her guitarist every now and then and shook her head in wonder.