Finding Fate

by Charisse Spiers

  I smirk, remembering the day. She called me an asshole like it was my fault, ready to tear my head off until our eyes locked. It was an instant attraction I’d never experienced. I asked her out for drinks as an apology and it turned into dinner and a night cap before I finally saw her home—a penthouse in a wealthy part of the city that I could easily see cost a fortune. I couldn’t get her golden eyes out of my mind. They were somewhere on the spectrum between green and brown, leaving the result a shade that looked like neither.

  Needless to say, I took the first job I was offered to be where she was, and while it was salaried much higher than the average college graduate saw, my father was disgruntled I didn’t hold out for something better. We were together every waking moment we could be, and I did my research. It took me six months and careful planning to put her on my dad’s radar. Three years after we met, I was waiting at the end of an aisle for her in a cathedral in Greece. The ceremony was everything my parents wanted. We moved here to build a life together per my father’s request. Twelve months later Gabrielle was born.

  Everything was real for me, even if I didn’t often show it. I was raised to keep my emotions hidden, though I’m not always as good at it as my father. I never stepped out on her, even when I had plenty of opportunities. She made a fool of me. Bitch.

  I return the frame to its residing place just as my office door opens without a knock, meaning it could only be one person. The staff knows better. Gabrielle is more considerate; plus, she’s not in the state. I take another drink of whiskey as a body parks itself in the seat opposite my desk, already loosening my tie a notch from the stress he brings; although, he’s a walk in the park compared to my grandfather—may his soul Rest in Peace.

  Just after finishing off my glass I pour another, keeping my focus on the task at hand. I’m going to need it. “I don’t recall you telling me you were coming for a visit.”

  “Do I ever?” The cigar box sitting on the edge of my desk is opened and closed, then seconds of silence follow, forcing my almost black eyes to lock on his—a trait that seems to carry from generation to generation. He runs the length of the cigar under his nose, inspecting it, and then he smiles, all of his dark features similar to mine. The men in my family age well. He barely has any gray, even at his age. “I see you still have good taste and a blind eye for American law. Cuban.”

  He places the end between his lips and lights the end, puffing on the end until it’s burning, smoke immediately billowing. “Like father like son?”

  His chest quakes as his laughter rolls, but he makes no quick reach to remove the cigar from his mouth. “When you aren’t soft like your mother.” He stares at my face, and I know he’s looking at the remnants of the bruises from my fight with Maddox several days ago. He knows I’m not going to elaborate. “Where’s my granddaughter?”

  “In Miami with the boy.”

  “The boy?” I nod. He arches a brow, still smoking on his cigar with a stern look on his face. He’s displeased, as I knew he would be, which is exactly why he’s just now finding out about it. I was handling it. “Haven’t gotten her in line yet, I see. I thought you took care of that.”

  “I thought I had too. We underestimated them both.”

  “Is that why your face looks like it’s been used as a punching bag, because you’re still letting her run around with lower class trash? It’s a disgrace to our heritage. She can come back to Greece with me. I’ve been telling you this for some time. If you can’t man up and break her, I will. I have male prospects that would make respectable alliances for us should they marry—none of them American,” he adds, making me feel two inches tall.” Yeah, I know, I’m the one that couldn’t get it done and control my whore of a wife. He still hasn’t let me live it down. It’s a mistake I won’t make twice. He continues. “A change in scenery may do her some good. She needs to learn her place. It’s time for her to fall in line. Might even be surprised what she’ll find when she’s there.”

  I run my hand over my tired eyes. The fight is exhausting, and I’m getting older. I want my daughter back, and that girl in Miami with him is the first time I’ve seen her in a long damn time. The girl she was here was someone else. When I first saw her and took in her blonde hair, I saw so much of her mother in her. She’s beautiful, and it comes out more when she’s happy. I don’t have it in me anymore to take. “No eligible bachelor is going to want her.”

  “Of course they will,” he booms, like I’ve lost my mind. “She’s a Thanos. She’s beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

  “She’s also pregnant . . . again.”

  “Jesus Christ, Adonis. Is it such a hard task to keep that boy’s cock out of your daughter?”

  I stand to my full height of six-four and bang my fist on the desk. “You’re in my house, Nicholai. Watch your tone.”

  He matches me, both of us toe to toe and eye to eye, the desk the only thing separating us. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to, boy.”

  “Last time I checked I was a grown man and not a boy,” I grit.

  He blows smoke in my face. “You’ll always be my boy. Don’t forget it. I own your ass just like you own hers. We operate under a circle of life, and I’m higher on it than you.”

  I hold my arms out, giving up. “What do you want me to do? She’s an adult. You push her and she pushes back twice as hard. She rebels. I’ve forced her hand, I’ve held her captive, and I’ve beat her. She has no fear. She takes it and still runs to him. It’s been years. Maybe it’s time to let it go. They love each other. He’s asked her to marry him. I’m not losing my daughter over my pride. I already lost one woman I loved. If that makes me soft, then so be it.”

  “Yeah, and how did marrying for love work out for you?”

  I snap my jaw shut, my teeth gritting and my blood boiling. “We all have to live our own lives; make our own mistakes. She’s just like me and you. She’s not going to be controlled.” My shoulders drop. “She wants to get married in the same cathedral we did. She’s not numb to family values. She just wants to choose who she lives them out with. Is that really all that wrong? She’s herself with him. I’ve spent so much time trying not to lose her that I’m pushing her away. Can you honestly stand there and tell me you don’t love Mom after all these years?”

  “I didn’t for the first several years of our marriage. I tolerated her for so long I started to love her. It’s not the same, but it can be done. She’s kept her legs shut, though, unless I tell her to spread them.”

  “And you think Gabrielle would hesitate on castrating a man that stepped out on her? I may have lost my wife, but I gave her an ultimatum. She sure as fuck didn’t take our daughter or she wouldn’t be living to tell about it. I wasn’t spineless. No one in our direct bloodline is.”

  He smirks with the cigar in his mouth, then removes it and stubs it out in the ash tray to save the rest for later. “My granddaughter wouldn’t even need a blade. She’d use her teeth. It appears she passes the right genes down too.”

  My heart slams against my chest; something that doesn’t happen often. “We both knew this was a possibility, and we both believe in family, which is why I did what I did. He was male bloodline. She’s ready. They’re—” I smile at him, knowing he’ll appreciate it. “He wants to know where his son is or I get to wear a bullet . . . and he meant it. They’re ready.”

  “So the boy isn’t a pussy, after all . . .” He walks across the room to the large window and braces his right hand against the frame, his left hand in the pocket of his slacks like he’s thinking. “You think he can be in this family? Adapt to who we are? We aren’t candy asses.”

  “He fights like he can be. Took me by surprise, and you made sure I boxed all my life. Loves her like I expect him to. Apparently can’t keep his dick out of her, which means he’s not likely sticking it somewhere else. If he does, I’m not afraid to get rid of a body if she doesn’t get to him first. As for the rest—only one way to find out. But I have a gut feeling he wants
to provide for her in ways that will please us, which means he’ll likely be open to more, like I used to be.”

  I stare at the back of his head. “I remember a time when I invested in you. Now look at you. This subdivision was only the beginning. I don’t tell you often, but I’m proud of the man you’ve become. We all have to pass the torch at some point. It’s your turn. I’m not going to pretend I think he’s good enough for my granddaughter. I was raised to move up, not down, but you’re my son, and if you think it’s right, I’ll go along with it.”

  “I think it’s our only choice to keep her. I’ve been trying to break her for years. She just adapts. I may not have had it easy, just like you didn’t with grandfather, but I still had someone to call dad that looked like me. There’s someone else that deserves the same shot.”

  “Very well then.” He pushes off the window and starts walking toward my office door, stopping with his hand on the handle. “I have some business to attend to in the states. The holidays are upon us. You have three days to get them both here with a passport ready and bags packed to get my support on this. We’re going home. He has to meet the family. Do I need to ask if they have a sufficient place to live?”

  “It’ll be taken care of.”

  “Then I’ll make some calls.”

  He walks out the door, saying nothing more, seeing himself out like he always does. I sit back down in my chair and lean forward on my thighs, working my tie knot loose. Suddenly it seems too tight. Six years of secrets are about to unravel in a matter of days. With a Thanos, the result could easily go one of two ways: bad or destructive.

  Gabrielle is a fighter. After Maddox left, Madden was born, and she went to high school, she did anything to act out, to piss me off. She drank and partied. There were times she didn’t come home to prove a point. Thankfully I was smart enough to put a chip in her. I was a little shocked to find out recently that she wasn’t having sex. Makes me damn proud, though, and is probably the biggest reason I’m doing this. She held out for him not knowing if she’d ever see him again. She sure as hell doesn’t get that from her mother. She was suspended for fighting once or twice a year. My financial contributions to the school kept her from getting expelled.

  She’s always loved him, but I thought it would pass like most first loves do. I was wrong. I’m man enough to admit it. And as I remember that November day like it was yesterday, and how much it hurt me to hurt her, she’s more likely to hit me than anything. She’s just like me. That day has haunted me for years, so this once, I’ll stand there like a target. I’ve owed it to her since the day I took him out of her arms, because had someone taken her from me, I would have killed them—father, wife, or a perfect stranger. Who it was wouldn’t have mattered, because buried they would be.

  Forty-Seven

  Maddox

  I play along to one of our songs, my eyes closed as I feel the beat through my body and the vibration of my sticks in my hands as they strike the drums. It helps me when I’m nervous to drown out everything but music. I can’t write with a pre-occupied mind like Riggan can, but I can play; prefer it even. He writes best in love. I write best emotional.

  Gabby should be back any minute from confirming her pregnancy with a blood test. I offered to go, but she told me to stop being ridiculous over something as simple as a needle stick, so Sayler went. I don’t have a clue why it was ridiculous for me to sit by her but not for another chick. Maybe she just wanted some space but didn’t want to tell me. Fuck if I know. Girls are nuts. Where guys just come out with what they’re thinking they beat around the bush.

  My nerves are overworked. I’m stressing. Never thought I’d be more scared of it saying this was all just a big misunderstanding versus another positive test, but I am. I want this with her. God only knows why. She’s still pretty young. I’m about to turn twenty-five come January. We have plenty of time we could focus on our relationship before bringing something complicated into it, but the second it came out something clicked into place inside, as if my life was finally aligning.

  My phone vibrates on my thigh. I stop playing to pull it out. It could be Gabby. When I dig it out of my pocket the screen is lit up with a message from my mom. She makes sure to send me a text once a day, and often asks when I’m going to come visit again, filling my heart with guilt. There is so much shit to tell them and I don’t have the slightest clue where to start.

  Mom: Hey, sweetie, just checking in. Anything new with you?

  I hang my head as I stare at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard as I sit and try to figure out what to say. At some point my answer of ‘same ole, same ole’ is not going to cut it anymore. I have to give her something, and I refuse to tell her I’m going to be a dad or that I have a kid out there somewhere over a fucking text.

  Me: I met someone.

  I hit the send option on the screen before I have time to change my mind and erase it. There. Not a total lie. I mean, technically I did run into her at random after years of no contact, which is sort of the same thing. It dawns on me that not only do I have to tell them of the pregnancy and Madden, but also that their youngest son is getting married after I popped the question when they didn’t even know I was dating someone. God, I’m such a fuck-up. My dad told me when that time came I was supposed to call my mama the second I bought the ring. Why couldn’t Micah have already done all this shit and paved the way for me so all my drama is overlooked? It’s only natural. He’s older by a good bit.

  Mom: Oh, honey, that’s great! Is it serious?

  I stare at her question, hating myself right now. I have a good mom; as good as they come. She’s worked hard in life to help provide for our family as a dental hygienist, which is why her and Dad went to the camp so much on the weekends, because she was always off on Fridays. She tried to teach me to live right. She loved us. Always put us first. Made sure we didn’t do without. And I didn’t even have the decency to pick up the phone and call her at any given time out of the past few months that Gabby has been back in my life to explain what was going on.

  Me: She’s the one.

  I want to kick my own balls, and that says a lot.

  Mom: I’m so happy for you! What’s her name?

  She is going to murder me.

  Me: Gabby.

  The response comes almost instantly

  Mom: Gabby? ... My thoughts are scattered, honey.

  As they should be . . .

  Me: Yes, that Gabby. We got back together in October. Things have been a little crazy. Sorry I haven’t mentioned it. Kind of wanted to see where it was gonna go, you know? Because, drama . . .

  Mom: Can you call me?

  Only a parent from a generation where text wasn’t a primary source of communication would text you to call instead of just picking up the phone and doing it.

  I hit her contact information and place a call. She answers after barely a full ring. “Hey, Mom. You wanted me to call?”

  I’m such a tool.

  Are you telling me you’re dating the same girl that almost destroyed your future?

  I can hear the panic in her tone. “She didn’t do anything.”

  Baby, I thought we went through this. There are girls out there whose parents won’t put you through that. If he wouldn’t let you date her back then, do you really think he’s going to approve now? Someone shouldn’t have to have a bottomless bank account to be worthy of dating your child. Do you really want that for yourself?

  My heart rate kicks into full gear as feet coming down the stairs draws my attention, and as my eyes rise to her circling around the bottom of the staircase to face me, my eyes meet hers. Even with her hair pulled up and activewear on she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’ve never understood what the hell is wrong with her to be with a guy like me. I’ve always said I dated up with her. She had no experience when I found her. Had she gotten any older I likely wouldn’t have been so lucky. Guys would have been knocking down her door.

  “I love her.”


  Who is that? Gabby mouths.

  I wave her off for now. More important things to worry about. With the phone screen pressed to my ear, I give her a thumbs up briefly before turning it down, asking the question that’s been making me a nervous wreck. She holds her knuckles out to me, making a fist with all fingers except her thumb, which is pointing out. She’s giving nothing away as she makes an invisible wavy line with her hand, staying lateral, not diving up or down. My heart is pounding. “Are you pregnant or not?” I belt out. “You’re making me nervous.” She gives me a thumbs up, the smile already cracking. I smile back at her. “You are. Thank God.”

  “You’re going to be a dad?” Mom asks, reminding me I’m on a call. How had I forgotten? My smile falls and I can feel the heat drain from my face.

  Gabby notices the change instantly, just staring at me. “Yeah, Mom, Gabby is pregnant. I asked her to marry me on Halloween.”

  “Maddox, it’s December. The main reason I texted was to see if you were coming home for Christmas.” She sniffles into the phone. I made her cry. Fuck! “Why wouldn’t you share that with us? Did you think we wouldn’t approve? We just want you to be happy, son. If Gabby is it, then she’s welcome in our family.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” Gabby drops her shoulders and walks toward me. “Don’t take it personally. I was dealing with some things. Things were hectic around here. Then we had to deal with her dad. I just . . . Look, there’s more, but this I’m not getting into over the phone. Can I talk to Gabby and figure out when we can come and call you back?”

  She sighs. “I’d like that. We’d like to get to know her in a way that doesn’t involve putting our son in prison.”

  Wait ‘til you find out she gave up your grandson to keep your son out.