“You’re falling in love with me?” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine, shining bright in the final remnants of the sunlight.
“I fell, babe. I already fell,” I whisper back.
“But we barely know each other.”
“My dad always said I’d know when I met the person I was meant to be with, and he was right. We can dance around the fact that we were made for each other, or we can jump in and start living our lives, building the happiness we both want and deserve. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but—”
I don’t get the words out before her mouth is on mine, kissing me deep and hard. I kiss her back, losing myself in the taste of her lips and the smell of her skin until the air cools, the sky darkens, and time no longer matters.
I officially have Arlo, and nothing else matters, including our pasts.
22
I take the envelope my father gave me from the side table, watching Arlo as she grabs a bottle of water from my fridge.
She spent the entire day writing, while I drew a few custom designs I’ve been putting off for clients I have booked later this week.
If I had told her about the contents earlier, she would’ve pushed her work aside and come over right away. But I didn’t do that, because I knew she was already behind and starting to stress out.
And after yesterday, I wanted her to focus on something happy, and her writing gives her that. I’m not sure what is inside the envelope, only knowing it is information about her parents.
She glances over her shoulder like she can feel my eyes on her. “What?” she asks as she turns around with the water in her hand.
“Come here, sugar,” I tell her, patting the couch next to me.
She doesn’t move at first, staring at me, and her gaze dips to the envelope. Finally, she heads my way, her footsteps slow as she makes her way to the couch. “What’s wrong?”
Yesterday at my grandparents’, Arlo had spoken to my father about possibly finding her parents for her. But Dad being Dad, he hadn’t waited for her to give the go-ahead before he’d started digging.
“My dad stopped by earlier and dropped this off for you.” I hold out the envelope to her, but she doesn’t take it.
Her eyes are locked on the big brown envelope as she sits. “What’s in it?” she whispers.
“My dad said he found info on your parents and wanted you to have it ASAP.”
Arlo’s eyebrows rise, and I expect her to snatch the envelope from my grip, but instead, she’s completely still. “He did?”
Arlo had given him as many facts about her early childhood as she could remember, but she couldn’t remember much.
“Yeah, Ar.” I push the envelope closer to her. “Here.”
“What’s it say?” she asks, finally reaching out and taking it from my hands.
“I didn’t read it, sugar. It’s not my business.”
She runs her hand down the outside of the envelope like she’s trying to feel if the news is good or bad without having to open it. “Your dad didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head.
She chews on the side of her bottom lip, holding the envelope with both hands. “I don’t know if I want to know. What if it’s bad news, Mello? I can’t take more bad in my life.”
I place my hand on her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Dad didn’t say, but I’m sure if it were bad news, he would’ve given me a hint so I could be prepared.”
“I always dreamed of this day, but now I’m scared.” She pushes the envelope back my way. “You open it.”
My eyebrows furrow. “Me?”
She nods. “Yeah. If it’s bad news, you can break it to me in that sweet way you have, instead of me reading the words in black-and-white.”
Fucking great. I understand what she’s saying, but I don’t want to possibly deliver news that would break her heart forever.
“You sure?” I ask, praying she’ll change her mind.
“Please.” She retracts her hands like the paper burned her, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t.”
I stare at her, studying her green eyes. “Whatever you want,” I tell her, but my stomach knots at the very possibility that the news I’m going to have to deliver to her will be devastating.
She’s had a relatively shitty life—at least, her childhood had been.
She hugs herself, running her hands up and down her upper arms. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I undo the metal clasps, peeling back the flap and sliding out the few sheets of white paper inside.
As I scan the first sheet, the second line jumps out at me. “They’re alive.”
“Oh, thank God.” She exhales the breath she’s been holding, and then her shoulders slump forward.
I keep reading, skipping over bits and skimming the document before reading the words to her.
Mother: Alena Costas
Location: Chicago, IL
Alena Costas married David Howell twenty years ago and has resided in the Chicago area since birth. She’s a nurse at Rush Memorial, working in the ICU for the last ten years. Alena and David have no children together, and there’s only one birth on record for Alena. She gave birth to a female child by the name of Karisa Delizonas.
I peer up to find Arlo barely breathing and clutching her chest.
“My name’s Karisa?”
“That’s what she put on your birth certificate, baby.”
“Is there more?”
I squeeze her hand and continue.
Father: Adrian Delizonas
Location: Chicago, IL
Adrian Delizonas has been married to Karen Black for the last seventeen years. They live near Greektown and run a successful restaurant that has been passed down in the family for the last fifty years. Adrian and Karen have two children, both under the age of ten.
It’s unclear the relationship Adrian and Alena had in their youth, but both were under the age of eighteen when Arlo was born.
When contacted, the adoption agency in Chicago provided a note left in the file, stating both the mother and father had contacted the agency, trying to find any information they could about the baby they gave up almost three decades ago.
The agency had very little information to give the birth parents due to the adoption and later death of baby Karisa’s parents. They did leave a letter sent by the birth parents inside the file in case Karisa ever contacted the agency. Letter is enclosed.
Arlo’s fingers are wrapped around my hand so tightly, my fingertips are tingling. “You okay?” I ask her.
“I don’t know what I am.”
“Do you want to read the letter?”
She stares at me with those striking green eyes. I see so much fear mingled with curiosity behind them. If I were in the same situation, I don’t know what I’d do.
“I don’t know,” she whispers as I hold the envelope with the name Karisa written on the outside in the most beautiful cursive. She moves closer, placing her head against my shoulder, and stares at the envelope. “What if they never want to see me?”
“But what if they do?” I tell her, kissing the top of her dark-brown hair.
She sucks in a deep breath before relaxing. “I don’t know if I’m ready for more.”