CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
ELENA

Alexander was reclining in his leather chair, his face as if he'd just been informed that Santa Claus was actually his red-suited accountant.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost. Or worse, your dad’s internet search history." I said, leaning forward in my chair,

Alexander didn't smile when I cracked my joke, and that concerned me. The same person who used to smile at my jokes was now bored and silent, looking as if he was working out how to end world hunger.

"Alexander?" I repeated myself and my voice became more concerned. "What did he say to you?"

His voice was hoarse, "Margaret wasn't exactly family."

I blinked. "What do you mean by 'not exactly family'?"

"She was adopted." The words stunned me. "My dad just told me that my cousin, whom I knew my whole life, the woman I considered a sister, wasn't actually a Moretti by birth. She was adopted into the family when she was little."

I glanced at his face and I could see true sadness. He was genuinely disturbed by the news.

"So?" I finally spoke.

He raised his head swiftly. "So?"

"So what if she's adopted? Then does that mean that you love her any less? Does that make everything that you experienced with her not real then?" I shifted from the chair arm to sit beside him on the couch. "Alexander, family's not based on blood. It's based on love."

"But everything I thought I knew about our childhood and our family." He raked his fingers through his hair, "It wasn't true."

"No, it wasn't." Our fingers were interconnected as I held his hands. "Margaret adored you like a big brother, didn't she? And you cherished her too?"

"Of course, but—"

"Alright, what's wrong?" I took hold of his hands when I realized they were trembling. "Welcome to the club of individuals whose families had secrets. We come together on Tuesdays at dinner to discuss it over some wine. I'll bring the cheese."

That made him smile which was a good thing.

"I do not even know what is real anymore," he sighed.
"If my father lied to me about that, then what else did he lie to me about?"

"Probably everything," I said. "But that's not the issue. It's the way you cherished Margaret. It's the way you looked at each other and carried out naughty pranks as children and the way you cared for one another." I moved his hands to my mouth and kissed his knuckles. "That is family, Alexander. That isn't based on blood."

The words I said helped him relax and the tension left his shoulders. "You're right. I truly believe you are right. It’s just…"

"It's just that your father dropped a bomb on you and then left you to deal with the fallout like the emotional coward he is?" I completed.

"You could put it that way."

I moved closer in order to feel the warmth coming off him. "Alexander, you must hear me out. Margaret being adopted doesn't change who she was to you. The adopted status does not erase the memories or the affection. On the contrary, it makes the bond stronger."

“How do you determine that?”

"She loved you just because she wanted to. Not because of where you were from or where she came from--she loved you. For who you are." I brushed my hand through his messy hair. "That kind of love is the best."

Alexander held my hand against his cheek as I attempted to draw it back. "How do you continually know the perfect thing to say?"

"I've had years of experience dealing with dramatic men," I teased. "And I'm intelligent by nature and humble."

"Also very humble."

I leaned my head against his neck so he would be able to sense my warmth and a little of my self-assurance. "Do you have any idea what I think?"

"What?"

"I feel that Margaret was fortunate to have you as a cousin, blood relative or not. I feel that you were fortunate to have her too." I looked at him. "I also feel that your father is a controlling prick who enjoys testing people's convictions of things that are precious to them."

“Elena”

"Oh, I'm positive of it." I straightened a bit, getting angry on behalf of Alexander. "He could have told you about the adoption years ago, in a normal family conversation. Instead, he waits until he's angry and uses it as a weapon. That's not about protecting family secrets—that's about control."

Alexander paused, considering that. Then, speaking in a quieter tone, his words smoother, he replied, "You are right. Again."

“I mostly am. Although it has its positive and negative aspects.”

"I love that about you," he said, causing my heart to speed up. "I love the way you are intelligent and do not quit easily at little things. I love the way you can make me laugh during hard times."

"I love you too," I whispered, and I genuinely did.

Alexander pulled me in, almost having me sit on his lap and slide my legs over him. "I would not know how to live if I did not have you."

"You're lucky you'll never know." I moved closer to him, loving the way his arms held me a little closer. "I'm annoyingly persistent that way."

"Good," he whispered into my hair. "I like annoying persistence."

We sat there together awhile, embracing each other and allowing Alexander to process everything. I could feel his tension seep out of his body, which felt warm and tranquil. That is what family does—assist a person when life does the unexpected, to support them readily, to love them through the hard times.

It was just when I thought we could at last be at peace that Alexander tensed under me.

I reclined to catch a glimpse of his face, taken aback by the dramatic turn. "What's it?"

His eyes widened, looking like he was getting frightened.

"Alexander? You're frightening me."

"I just recalled," he spoke softly. "It was something Margaret shared with me a few months prior to when she actually vanished." I became scared. "What did she tell you?"