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“Ayla Amada, do you have something to tell me?”

She swallows, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Lux told you. I was going to tell you. I spoke to Noris.”

“Don’t you mean mommy? Isn’t that how you have her in your phone?”

Her face falls.

“And no, Lux didn’t tell me. She also lied to me.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean to lie to you?—”

“But you did. For weeks now. You sat here and pretended, all while talking to Noris behind my back. Why would you do that?”

“Papi—”

I hold a hand up to stall her words. Her eyes are so impossibly wide, and this is when I would normally back off her. She’s so small, and I don’t want to terrify her. I’ve never wanted her to know what fear of any man is. I take a step back and breathe, but I can’t control the pain that courses through me like acid eating its way inside my veins. I can’t make it hurt less.

“You lied so well…” I clamp my lips together so I don’t finish the sentence with the words on the tip of my tongue.

Like your mother.

She recoils, her eyes filling quickly with tears, like Noris used to do. And I have to stop. God, I need to stop. I can’t keep seeing her in my baby girl’s face. No matter how much this moment takes me back to those days when I would catch her mother lying, and she would cry and make excuses. Ayla is different.

Is she, though?

She takes a step toward me, and I take another one back. I need space.

“You’ll never lie to me again, Ayla.”

She shakes her head. “I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. Grandma called?—”

The flash of pure anger that courses through me has me raising my hand again. Grandma. The woman who knows the piece of work her daughter is, how she left us behind without a look back. She facilitated all of this. She’s the one that brought Ayla together with Noris.

Is this the first time?

“How many times have you seen her?”

“Only once, Papi. It was two days ago.”

“How long have you been talking to her?”

“Since Grandma’s birthday.” Her voice is so low, and it breaks me. And in this one second, my love for her is not more potent than the pain in my chest.

“Have you ever talked to her before?”

She shakes her head. “I always asked grandma why I don’t ever see her, and I asked her if she ever thinks about me. Then Noris called on her birthday, and Grandma let me talk to her.”

I believe her.

“From now on, I want you to tell me every time you speak to her.” In truth, what I want is to tell her she’s not to speak to her again, but I am not going to traumatize my daughter.

Ayla nods.

“I mean it, Ayla. Don’t break my trust again.”

“I’m sorry.”

I nod. “I know you are, but I’ve always told you that actions and decisions have consequences. You decided to lie. Now I can’t trust you.”