Page 60 of Cartel Devil

I finish the call by giving her my phone number and email address. I hang up, not having taken my eyes off Joaquin since I heard the midwife’s name. I know exactly who she is. Why the hell did Paola refer me to his fucking aunt?

Chapter Thirteen

Joaquin

Welp.

It’s been a good—if not gory—life. I had a good run.

Now my life’s over.

My tía’s going to kill me.

Like gut me like a fish. Like cut my head off like I’m a beached trout.

I’m so fucking fucked.

“Joaco?”

“Sí.” There I go again, retreating into Spanish.

“That’s not some other Margherita Diaz, is it?”

“Nel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nope.”

English or Spanish—I sound downtrodden—because I am. I won’t live to see my baby born. I’d hoped to tell Mamá before anyone else in my family finds out. I hoped I could hide behind her when everyone else finds out. I’m in my thirties, and I’m not ashamed to admit I want my mamá to protect me.

“I guess we better tell your family tonight.”

Tre sounds as resigned to this as I do, and I feel horrible. This isn’t how either of us envisioned sharing our news. I pull my head out of my ass and sit up, reaching my hand out to her. She rests hers in my palm. I wrap my fingers around it and lean forward to kiss her. It’s a light one that I hope conveys my support and affection rather than making her think I’m lusting after her at such a serious moment. She presses her lips against mine, and I know she gets my message.

“Tre, do you want to tell your family first?”

“Not particularly.” She cringes. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

“I get it.”

“I just meant I’d rather not do it over the phone.”

“Are you going back to Boston?”

“Are we going up to Boston? I hope so.”

I inhale and release the breath slowly. “I better tell Mamá and my brothers to order the coffin now. I’ll pick out the suit I want to be buried in and leave it to air out.”

“Joaco, they may make life miserable for you, but they won’t leave me to raise the child alone.”

“You sure they won’t want you to go home where your family can help you?”

“Of course, they will. But when I refuse, they’ll respect my decision—though they’ll still question my sanity.”

She stares at our joined hands where they rest against her left thigh. Her other hand is in her lap too. Her shoulders hunch a little. Not enough for most people to notice, but I do.

“Tre, what else is bothering you?”