Dancing in a Hurricane (35 page)

She used her snottiest voice, "
Socio
, there's no way that girl will let you under her skirt until there's a ring on her finger."

He poured coffee and brought it to her with a spoon and sugar. He saw the bakery bag. His eyes lit up. As he sat on the barstool next to her and dug out a
pastelito,
he said, "I think she'll cave."

"I'll bet you a thousand dollars she doesn't."

"Uh uh. No way, sister. If I bet, you'd make sure she didn't."

"True. A thousand bucks is a lot of money to a homeless, unemployed girl."

He eyed her. "Is that what this visit is about?"

She swallowed her eggs and with them the urge to cry. "Nope." Might as well get it out. "I'm in trouble."

He looked at her levelly. "Meaning?"

"I'm pregnant and it's not Rico's."

He threw his pastry on his plate. "You've been screwing around on Rico?"

Chapter Twenty-Six

Marisa looked at Sixto. Did her brother think that little of her? She shook her head, the thought that he held such a low opinion of her made her want to start crying again. "No. It's Victor's."

"Victor?" His brow furrowed. "From Orlando? How long have you known?"

She dipped her bread in her coffee, fighting to keep her emotions buried. "I suspected for a couple days. Took a piss test this morning."

"Shit." He sat unmoving for a few minutes before picking up his fork and eating his breakfast.

She grinned, envying the way he could always eat, no matter what was happening. His body was a furnace that he fed regularly and burned off the calories just as quickly. But he was thinking, too. She knew his pattern of careful deliberation followed by decisive action. She waited silently for his reaction.

They were close since they'd been kids, she looked out for him when the other girls picked on him. When he grew bigger than any of them and no longer needed protection, she began to rely on him—they all did. He was the stable one, willing to jump into the middle of fights and calm things down. Always had a solution to their problems.

When their parents' business was in danger of bankruptcy, he'd bailed them out, as well as helping Dayami and her with their college tuition costs. Family was everything to him, and he was… She cleared her throat to chase away her blubbering emotion. Sixto was her favorite man in the world.

She ate her eggs. "Sixto, these are great." Everything he did, he did well: cooking, bartending, modeling, construction. But the one thing he should be doing, he wasn't—social work. He'd be so great with marginalized kids. She looked at him. Was he trying to do too much for everyone else, and not enough for himself?

"What are you staring at me for?" he asked.

"'Cause I wuv you little brother." She pulled a goofy face.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes filled with worry. He stood and pulled her into his arms. "Riss. What the hell are you gonna do?"

Her tears came immediately, sobs shook her whole body, and her knees turned to soup. He held her up and walked her to the couch. Sitting her down, he reached for a box of Kleenex and plopped down next to her, pulling her back into his arms.

When she couldn't cry anymore, she coughed and blew her nose.

"Have you told him?" Sixto asked, quietly but firmly.

"Victor? No."

"He has a right—"

"He has no right!" She yelled. The tears came again. "Sixto…" She couldn't say the words. She touched the scar on her thigh, a souvenir of the night Victor hit her in the face. While she lay on the floor, kicked her. With his shoes on.

The shame was almost too much to live with, but her mother was right. Writing her story had been a healing experience. They were printing it in next week's paper, with an anonymous byline. She'd hoped to talk to her siblings about it before it was published, but that was before she found out she was knocked up.

Sixto sat patiently, waiting for her as she cleared her sinuses into a tissue.

"He used to hit me," she whispered.

He stiffened, his lips thinned, his jaw clenched. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have stopped him."

She shook her head. "It wasn't often and we worked it out afterward, but I finally realized I didn't want to live in fear."

"I'm proud of you. You made the right decision."

Her bottom lip quivered. How did he always know the perfect thing to say? "That's sweet of you, but I don't deserve it. I got away from him, but he got the last laugh."

He shook his head, his face confused.

"I think he got me pregnant intentionally."

"Damn." He tensed. After a minute, his eyes narrowed. "You're not thinking of terminating the pregnancy, are you?"

Her brother, the Right to Lifer. "If I did, it would be my choice because it's my body and your—"

"Marisa." His tone was exactly like their father's. "You were not brought up that way."

Her temper rose. "We were both brought up in the same home, in the same church. Neither of us is there on Sunday, and God knows we treat the commandments as suggestions, not rules."

"There's a hell of a difference between not going to church on Sunday and killing an unborn child."

She put up a hand to stop him. "Brother, dear, we've had this same conversation dozens of times and neither of us will ever convert to the other's point of view. But that's all theoretical." She touched her belly, still flat and tight. "This is my baby." She fought back tears as she looked into Sixto's eyes. "The one and only plan I have for my life is giving birth to a healthy child."

Sixto nodded and the corners of his mouth curved up. "You know I'll be there for you."

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "You always are."

The garage door opened and Bree walked in.

Sixto smiled at his
cariña
, but Marisa could see the tension in his face.

"Marisa, hi." Bree wore compression shorts and a t-shirt and carried a gym bag and a grocery bag. "I
thought
that was your car."

"Hi Bree, how's it going?" she asked, trying for a pleasant tone.

"Great." She walked over to them and stopped short, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I'm interrupting."

Sixto nodded and Bree gestured behind her. "Let me just put this in the fridge."

She quickly put a couple things in the refrigerator, took a yogurt and a spoon, and went to her room.

Marisa watched her. Nice girl. Her brother made a good choice. She hoped they'd make it. She'd love to have Bree for a sister-in-law. After Bree closed her door, she turned to Sixto. "You can tell her if you want."

He shrugged. "Is that what
you
want?"

"Yes. I feel like she's part of the family. And I'm going to tell everyone about Victor and the abuse. But…" She turned fully toward him. "…don't tell anyone but Bree that I'm pregnant, okay?"

"Sure. What about Rico?"

"Rico." She flopped back and dropped her head onto a pillow. "He's next." She glanced at her brother. "Any advice?"

"What are your options?"

"I could tell Rico it's his." She watched for his reaction.

His eyebrows lifted. "You could."

She huffed out a sigh. "No, I couldn't. I was testing you."

"It's your life." He squeezed her hand. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. But the truth is always best."

"I know." She whined. "I've been avoiding him for a couple weeks."

"Why?"

"Mom talked me into writing my story for the paper."

He nodded. "Right. That's what Rico's talking about. He's freaked out that you're writing something about him."

She laughed. "Like what? An exposé on hair grease?"

He chuckled and scratched his cheek. "He likes you, you know."

Her stomach gave an anxious flip. "Yep. And I like him." She sat up and slapped his leg twice. "That's why I'm going over there right now to break his heart." She stood.

He got up and gave her a quick hug. "You gonna be okay alone?"

"You really wanna come with me?" she teased.

"Not unless I have to." He ruffled her hair. "Good luck, I'll be thinking about you." He looked serious. "We should talk somemore—about Victor and why you think he got you pregnant intentionally."

"Yes, but let's save that fun for another day." She left and headed straight for Rico's condo. Before she lost her courage.

***

Sixto knocked on Bree's bedroom door.

"Come in."

He walked in. Her face peeked out of the bathroom door, behind her, she reflected off the steamy bathroom mirror. Just a blurry outline, but enough to turn him on.

"I just got out of the shower. Give me a minute?" She swung the door shut.

He wanted to ask if he could help her work the towel, but he behaved. Sitting in her big stuffed chair, he looked around at the things she had sitting out. A family photo of the four of them when she and Cloe were probably about ten. Cute little blonde girls with pigtails. A more recent picture of Cloe he hadn't seen before.

The bathroom door opened an inch. "Sorry, would you please hand me my clothes? They're on the bed."

"Sure." He got up and picked up a t-shirt and capris, a lacy blue bra and panties. He handed her the lingerie first. "These are nice."

"Your sister—"

"What?" He cringed.

She giggled. "Your sister made me buy these and throw away all my white cotton.

"I'll have to thank her."

She reached a hand out. "The clothes, please."

He complied and she shut the door again.

Turning on her stereo, he chose a Cuban jazz station. He looked at the rest of her decorations. On the wall, she'd hung a painting of a fishing village—it must remind her of home. Or was this her home now? She hadn't found a buyer for her house in Washington yet and he encouraged her to drop the price. He didn't want her to have a place to run off to if anything…

He shook his head. Why was he imagining the worst? Things were good between them. Other than his lying to her about the company. But he'd find the right time to tell her. Soon.

Sixto picked up a small statue of an angel that served as a paperweight. That was her. An angel. And he was—what—the devil intent on seducing her?

She came out of the bathroom, her wet curls hung down her back, her face clear of makeup. She looked like a teenager. Yeah, he was horny and he couldn't resist. He walked to her and bent to kiss her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and opened for him, the kiss was sweet and easy.

When he pulled back, she looked up at him, her eyes murky. "I like your kisses."

He smiled and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. The scent of strawberries clung to her skin. He pressed his lips on her flesh and felt her shiver. "I'd like to kiss you all over."

"Mmmm. That would take a long time."

"All night." He touched his tongue on her earlobe. "Then I'd like to taste every inch of you."

"Even my stinky feet?" She pulled back.

"Hang on." He frowned. "You never told me you have stinky feet."

She laughed again. He liked seeing her this happy.

"Well, now you know." She went up on tiptoe and kissed him.

"My feet are pretty bad too, if I wear anything but sandals."

"Don't worry. I'm not getting anywhere near them." Bree touched his bare foot with her toes.

He stepped back and looked down. "I don't know how you can resist."

"You do have perfectly sexy model's feet, I'll admit that."

He looked at hers. "Yours are sexy, too."

"Is that what you came in here to talk about? Feet?"

He shook his head. "Something serious. Marisa."

She instantly looked concerned. "Oh." She took his hand and led him to the bed.

They sat close together, she held his hand tightly. He liked the comfortable feeling, the knowledge that he could share his concerns with her. He wouldn't be alone in his pain.

"I don't know where to start."

She nodded, waiting.

"Riss is going to Rico's right now to tell him she's pregnant."

Bree's face drained of color. "But they've only been dating for—"

"It's not his baby."

Her eyes opened wide. "How does she know?"

"She said she's a couple months." He made a stop sign with his hand. "She didn't go into detail about all the woman stuff, but she's sure it's her boyfriend from Orlando's kid."

Bree closed her eyes for a moment opened them and looked at him. "What's she going to do?"

His hands fisted and Bree pulled her fingers from the clench. "Sorry,
cariña
. It makes me so damn irate." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.