Page 33 of Finally Found You

Wanting to avoid being caught in their crossfire, I excuse myself to the powder room to wash my hands. They might argue for a few moments because they’re too similar. It warms my heart that, every day, I see a bit of Lysander in Kenzy—even when she reminds me so much of Nonna and, of course, herself.

Their growing bond evokes a mixture of feelings inside me, feelings I push away into a metaphorical black hole.

* * *

After breakfast, we embark on an adventure to Alcatraz. The boat ride out to the island is infused with anticipation as the guide shares tidbits about the infamous prison looming in the cold waters of San Francisco Bay.

The tour proves to be both haunting and fascinating. Kenzy is a bundle of excitement as she absorbs the stories that echo through the eerie cellblocks. I try not to dwell on the lives that were lost within these walls, but the chilling atmosphere makes it difficult to ignore.

When the tour guide mentions some of the famous inmates, like Al Capone, George “Machine Gun” Kelly, and Robert Stroud, also known as the “Birdman of Alcatraz,” Kenzy frowns.

“Not the musician,” I clarify, noticing her confusion. “This prison has been closed for a long time.”

Lysander jumps in, sharing the history of George Kelly Barnes, a gangster from Memphis, Tennessee, who earned his nickname, Machine Gun Kelly, from his weapon of choice. He then explains that MGK, the musician and rapper, adopted the stage name because of his rapid-fire delivery in rapping, reminiscent of the notorious gangster.

His explanation impresses Kenzy, and I resist the urge to high-five Lysander. No one gets that face of admiration from her. At her age, she believes she knows everything. I suppose we all go through that phase as teenagers—a rite of passage.

As we leave the island, the somber atmosphere gives way to the vibrant energy of Fisherman’s Wharf. We find ourselves drawn to the sea lions, their playful antics eliciting delighted laughter from the tourists. Kenzy takes several selfies with the sea lions and Lysander. The salty ocean breeze mingles with the sounds of music drifting from nearby speakers, creating a lively and carefree ambiance.

I suddenly find myself an invisible observer, detached from the bustling world around me. My gaze is fixed on Lysander and Kenzy as they chat animatedly about their favorite music, sports, and even books. Kenzy mentions, “I haven’t read that book, but it’s in Cami’s library, and I’ll read it when I’m old enough.”

It’s adorable to see how Lysander’s warm eyes are attentive to whatever his daughter has to say. He hangs on to her every word. Learning about her seems to be the most important thing to him right now.

Kenzy’s laughter rings out like the sweetest melody, and Lysander’s face lights up in response. I don’t think I have seen her this happy in a long time. I’m ecstatic that they found each other and hope they can become a family. The sight of them evokes a whirlwind of emotions within me. Emotions I can’t contain and that are making it difficult to breathe.

But a pang of jealousy pricks at my heart. Containing the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to spill over becomes hard. There’s always been a part of me that wonders about my father. It’s sad that I’ll never know who he was. Did he die, like Mom, of an overdose, or is he a family man who never learned about me?

Would he have cared if he found out about me?

Mom took that to the grave. I wish I could learn more about my parents, but Nonna rarely spoke about my mom—it was too painful for her. Losing a child isn’t easy. She probably never dealt with the grief, just as she never understood why Aunt Elsie left Kenzy and forgot about her mother, too.

Hopefully, she’s at peace now.

As I watch Lysander and Kenzy, my heart aches with a mix of happiness for them and longing for a family of my own.

Chapter Seventeen

Lysander

My mother is out of town. It’s the perfect moment to show Kenzy the vineyard and part of her heritage.

The sun casts a golden glow over Paradise Bay as I guide Kenzy and Cami through the vineyards. The rows of grapevines create an ocean of lush green leaves, cradling plump clusters of grapes that ripen beneath the warm California sun.

As we stroll, I delve into the various grape varieties we cultivate, unraveling the subtleties of each and how they contribute to the distinct flavors of our wines. “We grow cabernet sauvignon, merlot, and chardonnay, among others. Each grape type thrives in different soil and climate conditions, which is why our vineyard is divided into several unique sections.”

Kenzy’s eyes widen with curiosity, and her attention never wavers as she absorbs the splendor of her surroundings. Witnessing her genuine interest in my world brings warmth to my heart, especially considering she didn’t grow up immersed in it like the rest of us.

As we walk past a particularly bountiful cluster of grapes, Kenzy turns to me with a question. “Can we eat these grapes?”

I chuckle, appreciating her inquisitive nature. “These grapes are specifically grown for wine production. They’re smaller and have thicker skin than table grapes, which you might eat as a snack. The flavors and sugar content in wine grapes also differ from table grapes, making them more suitable for fermentation.”

Kenzy nods, absorbing the information, but I also see the disappointment in her eyes.

I do my best to remain focused on Kenzy and the intricacies of the vineyard, but I can’t help stealing glances at Camilla. Her presence enhances the already enchanting landscape, adding an indescribable depth of beauty. Her light and carefree laughter fills the air as she teases Kenzy about her newfound fascination with viticulture. The melodic sound sends shivers down my spine, a stirring reminder of our magnetic connection.

As we continue walking, the simmering attraction between Cami and me becomes increasingly challenging to ignore. A palpable tension fills the space between us each time our eyes meet, and I can sense she’s experiencing the same pull. It takes every ounce of my restraint to keep from drawing her close and kissing her with wild abandon.

As we approach the winery, I describe the ever-changing beauty of the vineyard as it evolves through the seasons. I paint a picture of springtime when the vines burst to life with vibrant green leaves and tender buds, eagerly awaiting the arrival of tiny clusters of grapes.

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