Page 70 of Cara

Holyfuck. Dio, sii con me. Don’t fail me.

I exhale and walk the length of the gate until I can slip beyond their sight into the shrubbery. Giulia’s rose bushes are blooming just as abundantly as they did before I left. With my eyes fixed on his father’s parlor window, I smile when I notice that the light is on.

I pull myself onto the A/C unit with much more ease than I would have a year ago. The window creaks as I slide it open carefully, still undetected. I grip the panel with both hands, heaving myself through the small space, sliding down onto the hardwood floor of a painstakingly familiar room.

My God.For a moment, I'm paralyzed. My limbs forget to work. I hadn’t planned this far.

What do I do? Call out his name? Search the house?

My knees buckle as I stand, catching sight of a cluttered desk. His father always had a lit cigar on an ashtray and a stack of neatly arranged papers. Now, the work is scattered alongside drained bottles of bourbon, an accessible laptop. I hesitate to touch the chair as my nose pinpoints his scent.

“Give me a minute. I'm coming.”

His voice.

It’s him.

Heat rapidly flushes my cheeks as I drape my hair over my shoulders, nervously tucking it behind my ears.

I can hear him.

My heart soars.

My chest swells…

I’m still trying to untangle my hands from my hair when a small girl jumps through the doorway, her bright red hair bouncing around her fair face. “Daddy! Daddy, let’s go!"

I hit the ground like lightning.

“I'm coming, Iz,” Xavier says. Firm footsteps cause the floorboards to groan. I close my eyes tightly, my hand clamped over my mouth. I'm going to be found. I'm going?—

“X, are you sure about this?”

“Rosa, I'm not going. Use them.”

Rosa.Rosa is in his house. There is a child in his home, a child who calls himdaddy. I shrink, cringing at the jarring rustle of papers on the desk, retreating further beneath it.

Her gentle voice is as soft as velvet. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, take them. They’ll go to waste if you don’t.”

“Daddy, come!”

“Next time, okay?”

As their voices trail off, I open my eyes to blurred vision.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be.

She said he wasn’t married. She said she lied.

The child. The little girl.

He’s had a child.

I stifle a sob, pulling myself up from the ground, rushing to the closest window. All I can think of is escaping, getting thehellout of here.

I swing my leg over the edge, too frantic to consider the guards.