Straightening, he clears his throat again. “Miss Dornan enlightened us about a few things that we were unaware—” He winces, shakes his head, then quickly says, “No, that we werewillfullyignoring. I don’t blame you for being angry with me.I’mangry with me, hijo. Not just for what happened to Jamie, but for disregarding whatyouobviously needed in the aftermath.”
My chest seems to cave in around my heart, crushing it. This isn’t like him. We don’t talk about this. We don’t talk about Jamie. We don’t ever talk about what happened.
But then…that was always the problem.
“That choice…” It’s only when he sniffs that I notice the sheen of tears in his eyes. “The guilt that’s followed me since is something I’ll live with every day for the rest of my life, but what Ican’tlive with is knowing that I have failed both my children.” My eyes widen as he turns in his chair to face me, his hands clenched into trembling fists in his lap. “It was foolish of me—ofbothof us,” he adds with a nod toward my mother, “to think that if we never talked about Jamie then, somehow, our grief would just go away. It was foolish of me not to see how much you were hurting, for focusing on what you were doing and not the why behind it. For not seeing that you were acting out from a place of pain. And for that, I’m so incredibly sorry.”
Tears burn mercilessly at the corners of my eyes and at the back of my throat. I don’t dare to speak. One word and I know the floodgate will break.
“I’m not a perfect man,” Dad whispers now, his voice barely audible, “but I want to be a better one. I want to be a better father. I don’t want this rift between us to be irreconcilable. I know I can be stubborn, but I’m not above owning my mistakes. And it would be a mistake not to tell you howproudI am of you. Ofthis.” He raises his left hand and rests it on the table again, on top of my proposal. “If your abuelo was here…he’d be so proud of you, too, Damian.”
Proud. That’s a word I never thought I’d hear out of my father’s mouth—not in relation to me, anyway. And even though I realize now it’s something I’ve wanted him to say for far longer than I’m even aware of, and it’s totallynotthe appropriate response to this situation, I snort.
“Wow, Lexi must’vereallygotten to you,” I say because years of unresolved grief and a penchant for sarcasm have both completely warped my knee-jerk reactions.
To my immense bemusement, my dad’s face splits into a grin. “She’s a very impressive young woman. I can see why you like her.”
I more than like her,I think, but I don’t tell him that. It’s not for my parents to hear. Not yet. Not before I muster up the nerve to tell Blondie.
On my other side, my mother gently nudges my shoulder.
“Perhaps you could convince her to come work at Hallazgo,” she says with a coy smile, and when I catch my father nodding at her, I know this isn’t just some off-the-cuff suggestion, but something they have both seriously talked about and considered. “With a mind like that, she’d be a real asset.”
I stare at each of them in turn, my eyes swinging back and forth between their expectant faces like a pendulum. Blondie…come work at Hallazgo? With me? Not that I haven’t fantasized about that—about spending our days together. About what our future would look like. But this? Even this is beyond my wildest fantasies.
What is even happening? These people can’t be my parents.
Seriously…doppelgängers. Theyhaveto be.
“Lexi still has two years left at Conwick,” is all I can think to say, and just like that, the dream fizzles away. “There’s no way she could come work at Hallazgo right now.”
My father shrugs. “If it won’t interfere with her studies or scholarship requirements, she can always come on board part-time as a private consultant to help implement the program until she graduates, after which time we can offer her a full-time position.”
I gape at him, my mouth hanging slightly ajar. “A private consultant? Seriously?”
“Just a few hours a week to go over the numbers with the rest of the team, ensure everything is in order,” he explains, as casually as if we’re discussing what to have for lunch.“And under our specialized contract for high-level consultants, she would be eligible for certain benefits in exchange for her expertise, such as stock options…and access to Hallazgo’s health insurance plan.”
His words strike me like a fist to my sternum, and I push out a loud, whooshing breath. Is he saying what Ithinkhe’s saying?
“But it’s her mom who’s sick, not Lexi,” I breathe, my voice strangled. From what I learned while researching for the proposal, and from what Blondie told me since opening up to me about her mom’s cancer and their family’s financial struggles, healthcare insurance only tends to cover spouses and dependents. Which means any insurance she might obtain through employment wouldn’t pay for her mom’s treatments or meds, leaving them right back at square one. Sure, they might be better off with a salary from Hallazgo, but those costs add up, and it might still not be enough.
As if he can hear my frantic thoughts, my dad says, “Our status as a private company gives us flexibility with our coverage. Our insurance plan has a QOL clause, so we can cover not just our employees but their immediate family members, even extending to parents. Which means her mother would qualify.”
My breaths, the blood pumping through my veins—it all seems to freeze.
This feels way too good to be true…but could it be? I don’t have access to the financial inner workings at Hallazgo, and I never had cause to ask about their insurance plan, so I genuinely wouldn’t know. But if it is…
“So, you’re saying her treatment…” I falter, licking my lips, trying to gather my thoughts. “Her medications?—”
“It would all be paid for,” my father assures me.
A sudden warmth barrels through my body, and I instantly recognize it as comfort. Happiness.Hope. What my dad’soffering…it could erase Blondie’s money problems. It could help her mom and see them through the financial side of her illness so they only have to focus on her getting better.
It’s more than I could imagine. More thanIcan do for her. And I’m eager to reach out with both hands and grab onto that offer before it slips away.
I don’t even realize a tear has slipped down my cheek until I feel my mom’s hand on my shoulder. I meet her gaze, but she says nothing—just offers me a barely-there smile.
It’s my dad who breaks the silence.
