All my life I’ve wondered if I looked like my dad and now, I know. This new knowledge settles something in me. As hurt as my mom was by him leaving her, I think she would be happy that we’ve reunited.
There’s still so much I don’t understand. Why didn’t she tell him about me? Why didn’t she fight for him? For their relationship? I know she loved him. It was obvious in the aftermath and all the warnings she gave me about men.
If it were me, and I was in a similar situation with Hart? I would fight. You don’t feel a love this intense and let it go. What was going through her head?
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything, Lauren.”
“Did you have anything to do with my scholarship?” This has been bothering me since I found out Professor Morelli was my father. I don’t know how I feel about being handed a free ride because of who I’m connected to.
I worked hard to earn my scholarship to Newhouse. If he somehow used his position at the school to get me here…
“No. I didn’t even read your entrance essay until after I saw you in my class at the beginning of last semester. Every year I looked for Alessa Wilson. She never showed up.” He turns the empty mug in his hands.
“When I finally realized your mom had passed and you weren’t living with a stepfather, I didn’t handle the news well. It sent me to a very dark place. I started drinking heavily. I quit working.” Morelli pushes his empty mug out of his hands as if it’s a painful reflection of how hollow he felt.
“It was Stephen who pulled me out of it. He reminded me of the kind of father I wanted to be. I was determined to be there for the boys and for you.” His eyes catch mine. The remorse is so intense it punches me in the chest.
“I tried to find you, but you were ‘lost in the system’ as they say. Without having any legal right to you, they did very little to help me track you down. I did the only thing I could.
“I went to every high school in the county and made sure they knew about the scholarships available at Newhouse. I had just finished my first year teaching. I knew I would be here for the foreseeable future. I hoped…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head slightly. “I prayed for the first time in years that you would see what Newhouse had to offer and would want to go to school here.
“So no, Lauren, you earned your scholarship on your own. You are a talented writer. The piece you turned in on Hart is just another example of how brilliant you are.”
The compliment does something funny to my heart. It isn’t the praise of a professor but pride of a father. He is proud of me, and his admiration is something I wanted at the beginning of the school year, but I didn’t know I needed it like this.
“Thank you.” The words feel too simplistic after everything we’ve talked about today. However, saying more makes me feel too vulnerable. I’m not ready for that either.
We talk a little while longer about my classes this semester. He asks about Carlos, Manny, and the rest of the kids but I don’t say much. That’s another part of me I’m not ready to share with him.
I steer him back to safer topics. After giving me a few tips on my résumé we say our goodbyes and make plans to meet up again next week. I guess this is going to be a regular thing.
“Shouldn’t you be at practice?” I question Hart, who is casually leaning against the driver side of my car. A Newhouse baseball beanie covers his head.
“Hola, cariño,“ Hart greets me and leans down to capture my lips with his. “I wanted to check on you first. How did it go?” My head hits the center of his chest, and he wraps his arms around me.
I let his strength wash over me and stabilize my emotions. “I don’t think I will ever stop feeling like I was cheated out of time with him, Enzo, and Marco. Every story you or Sydney tell me, I’m reminded of what I’ve missed out on.”
Hart gathers the flyaway hairs that frame my face and tucks them behind my ear. His fingers brush over my cheek, making my skin tingle below the surface.
There is a sadness in his eyes that mimics my own. “But it went well. I’m happy I saw him today. I’m happy he’s in my life again.”
“I’m glad you have your familia again too, cariño. If the stories upset you-”
“No.” I cut him off. Slipping my hands under his sweatshirt, I explore the warm skin on his back. His muscles flex under my touch. “I want you to tell me about your childhood. I love hearing the stories about you and Enzo terrorizing the neighborhood.” Hart grunts.
“Maybe next time, you can come with me. If you want.”
Hart shakes his head. “When will you learn?” He rests his forehead against mine. “I always want to be where you are.”
“Maybe I like hearing you say it.” I tease.
“Oh yeah? Do you want me to tell you every day that I want you next to me? That I don’t want to go one day without seeing your beautiful face.” His knuckle strokes down my cheek with the weight of a feather. “That I want to go to bed every night with you in my arms. Because I will, cariño. I will remind you every day how much I want you.”
Hart pulls my body against his so I can feel exactly how much he wants me. “Yes,” I moan, when he grasps my hips and rolls my body against his. I don’t know if I’m answering him or asking for more. More. I definitely want more.
“Me vuelves salvaje, cariño. No puedo esperar para llevarte a mi casa esta noche y mostrarte lo tanto que te deseo.“ Hart continues to whisper words to me in Spanish as his lips leave burn marks up and down my neck.