“What are you keeping from me?” I demand, gripping her by the upper arms.
She clenches her jaw for a second, giving me a hard stare as if she’s digging her heels in about something, then finally relents. “My parents had an open marriage. But before that they were in a triad with someone else.”
“Tell him,” Leo says.
“Does it matter who it was?” Celeste snaps at him. “All that matters is that Papá will understand this. And he’ll accept Maddox because he helped us that night. I know there’s no love lost between Papá and Julian Santos, but Maddox is Marcella’s son, so that must count for something.”
“It’s not the kind of secret you keep from someone you love, Celeste,” Leo says. “You of all people should believe that.”
A pained look crosses her face, and now I’m really worried. Should I sit down for this? When she doesn’t say anything, I back up and collapse into the ratty armchair behind me. Whatever it is, it can’t be any worse than the revelation about my mom’s extracurricular activities. But Celeste doesn’t seem fazed by the idea that her dad was kind of a man-whore, so maybe I should chill out.
She scoots to the end of the bed, draping her legs over the edge, and squares her shoulders. I raise my eyebrows. She’s gearing up for something a lot more in depth than just naming names.
“The night Leo was shot, Gustavo had, unbeknownst to me, scheduled a gun deal that was not sanctioned by my father. Papá doesn’t deal guns anymore. He hasn’t in several years. Most of our regular income comes from black-market antiquities. I didn’t realize this was happening until later, and it isn’t really important. What’s important is that the man Gustavo was dealing with was someone called Amador.”
I swallow and look away, not sure what this has to do with the discussion at hand, and really wary of letting on that I already know all this.
“Amador is—”
“I know who he is,” I say.
When I go silent again, she takes a breath and continues. “Amador and my father were once as close as brothers . . .” she begins, but what she tells me next has nothing to do with Amador’s reputation as the leader of the most dangerous drug cartel in Mexico. It has everything to do with her origins and her father’s love for her mother. The three of them were—What? A thruple? Is that what we have now?—and were together a long way from Los Angeles when Mom and Dad got married and had me.
This news doesn’t really settle the question of my siblings’ paternity, but Celeste was right about my brothers—we’re all our father’s sons. Even Sam has the same piercing gray eyes as our dad, eyes that see more than I want, at least when he’s actually paying attention. Elle is the spitting image of Mom except for her eyes, which are a gorgeous hazel, not unlike the eyes looking at me right now.
Celeste lets out a breath and drops her hands to her knees. “Anyway, does that ease your worries?”
I nod but I’m not sure I’m very convincing. It does ease my immediate worries, but it doesn’t answer all my questions by a long shot. “The woman who rejected your father before he moved back to Mexico, did he tell you her name?”
She frowns and shakes her head. “I didn’t think it mattered, but if it was Marcella, that would explain the animosity Papá has for your father.”
I snort. It would explain a lot more than that. What it wouldn’t explain was why Mom stayed with Dad all these years despite his frequent absences and how awful he treats her. Especially if Arturo was kind to her and has been a widower all these years.
Celeste stands and closes the distance between us, slipping into my lap and hooking her fingers behind my neck. I reflexively slip my hands around her waist and look up at her, relieved but still uncertain.
“The important thing is that Papá isn’t a stranger to a relationship like ours. He knows what you did for us. And if he really does have a soft spot for your mother, that’s even better.”
That wasn’t my big takeaway from her story, but I concede that she’s right. It’s at least worth testing the waters and maybe not worrying that he’ll have me killed.
“I think we can both protect you,” Leo says. “If he’s pissed about it, anyway.”
I sink back into the armchair with a weary sigh. This whole night has been exhausting in both the best and worst ways, and I’m ready to get back to the good parts. I take in Leo, who has moved to the end of the bed and sits with his elbows on his knees, watching me with concern creasing his brow. Celeste’s plump ass feels amazing on my lap, both her bare thighs draped across my legs.
“Is this even real?” I blurt, looking between them both. “All that craziness aside, I still can’t believe you two are here. That you’re serious about . . . about me. Please tell me if you’re fucking with me because I would rather know sooner than later. And you.” I point at Leo. “Jesus, man, I thought I disgusted you the way you ran out of here that night. What changed?”
He shakes his head, his hair a wild, dark tangle brushing his shoulders. “It wasn’t what you told me that made me run. It was the fact that you kept it a secret from me for so long. I thought of you as a brother after all those hours I spent in your chair, under your needle. You know all my secrets. More than any other artist, even Toni, and she’s been my best friend for years.” He tilts his head, then adds, “Maybe I was running from myself a little too. I might have had a bit of a man-crush on you but wasn’t ready to admit it.”
Laughing, I say, “Well, obviously, the feeling was mutual.
