by Rhona Davis
Fuck handshakes.
I throw my arms around him. “I’ve missed you.”
As I lose myself in his fatherly embrace, he gently pats me on the back. “Me too, son. Me too.”
33
Sofia
Three weeks have passed. Three weeks since I nearly lost the most vital and beautiful man in my life since my dear papa. And here we are now, back in my hometown, about to enjoy a wonderful family dinner overlooking the gorgeous Santa Fe landscape.
Life couldn’t be better.
It’s hard to remember a time since I’ve felt as contented as I do right now. Even my professional life is on the upswing.
It was quite the thing my editor did for me by allowing me leave to enjoy an extended vacation while Connor licks his war wounds. I shouldn’t be so surprised that Bill’s been so kind really, as the article which came out the day after the fight tripled our subscription rate. It’s safe to say he’s a very happy man as a result. And I’m happy, too. Happy, and pleasantly shocked, with the character which he showed throughout the whole ordeal. He could have spoiled the story and blown everything, but he waited, and although I was in the middle of something which could have gone so very wrong, it was my choice to play along with it. I had to, it was Connor’s life at stake.
Still, it’s over now. And seeing the way Connor plays with my little sister and helps out in the kitchen with momma, fills me with a new hope for the future. That’s not to say I haven’t had a few distractions since that night at the Barclays. For the majority of my vacation my phone has been constantly ringing, and my email has been swamped daily by job offers from other papers. Although flattered, and finding my ego just moderately inflated by their generous proposals, I’ve chosen to remain loyal to my current workplace. I’d miss Adrian and the rest of the staff at the Herald. Heck, I’d even miss Bill. No, I want to stay there and build up with them. Even though Bill hasn’t quite given me a promotion, he’s been open about using me for much meatier scoops in the future.
“Here we are,” Connor says. “A good old fashioned American tradition. Homemade apple pie.”
I jerk my head behind me and see Connor carefully step toward the table holding out a giant ceramic baking dish. He places it on the corner of the table and steps back to marvel at his piping hot creation. Momma nods her approval and sniffs in the mouth-watering aroma that has my stomach growling from the far end of the table.
Connor, looking more than a little pleased with himself, winks at me. “Better than eggs?”
I shrug, supressing a smile.
His shoulders sag.
“Sofia, don’t be so rude,” Momma says. She looks up at Connor with a sincere and genuine expression of appreciation. “Don’t mind her, dear.”
“It looks ah-mazing,” Ana says, stood next to momma with her fluffy pink unicorn in hand.
With his gaze fixed on me, Connor motions to the pie. “See? Everyone else likes it.”
I hold both hands up. “Okay, all right, you’re amazing. Happy now?”
The whole family laugh, which soon sets me off.
“Let’s eat,” Ana excitedly announces in a high voice as she reaches out for the dish.
“Not yet, young lady,” Momma says. “Have you washed your hands?”
Ana rolls her eyes. “I’ve washed them ten times already.”
I push from the table. “You guys make a start. I need to take a walk. Connor, could you join me please?”
He takes off his oven gloves and places them next to the dish. He looks slightly concerned. “Sure. Is everything fine?”
“Of course, I’d just like a word.” I turn to momma. “Can we be excused?”
She bats her hand. “You don’t have to ask. I’m sure you kids have a lot to talk about.”
Ana pulls a face. “No kissing!”
Connor looks down at her and grimaces. “Smelly girls . . . eww.”
She sticks out her tongue in response. “Smelly boys, you mean.”
I shuffle over to Connor “Ready?”
“Yep.” He looks at Ana and wags a finger. “Don’t you go eating all that pie. Save some for us, you hear?”
Her lips stretch into a mischievous smile as she sways on the spot, looking anything but innocent.
I pick a flower from the table vase and walk on ahead, motioning for Connor to follow. As we walk away from the house toward the main street, I glance over my shoulder and smile to momma.
She returns the gesture.
“You’re glued to that phone like your life depends on it.”
I’m snapped from my daze. “Sorry?”
“The phone, it’s permanently fixed to your hand. I thought you would have forgotten about work down here.” As we continue to walk around the nicer parts of Santa Fe, his eyes narrow. “Where are we going anyway? I thought you said you wanted to talk.”
“I do. Don’t worry, it’s a surprise.”
He chuckles. “I think I’ve had enough surprises to last a lifetime.”
“True, but I hope you’ll like this one.”
We keep walking for a few minutes before Connor drops the pace. “How long until we get there?”
I arch a brow. “You sound like Ana whenever we travel in the car.”
“What?”
I smirk, marching ahead. “Nothing. So, what are you going to do when we get back to the states?”
“Jesus. What’s with the small talk?”
“Nothing. Just wondered if you’re really done with fighting?” I hope so.
“I’m done. I can promise you that. I’ll be re-opening Monty’s old gym.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think it’s time to give back. Now that the IRS stuff has been sorted, I’d like to use what’s left of my cash for something good. Alex and Monty will be partners.”
“That’s great, baby.” I come to a stop, turn to face him, and hook my arms around his neck. His gorgeous green eyes sparkle. I stand on tip-toes and reach up for a taste. After we kiss I pull back and run my tongue along my lip, savouring his sweet manly taste.
“What was that for?”
I shrug. “Do I need a reason?”
“No, but—”
“Anyway, we’re here.” I say, pulling back from his embrace.
He looks up at the tall iron gates in front of us and squints. “A graveyard?”
I giggle at his reaction.
“Not exactly the setting I would have chosen for a romantic stroll.”
I take him by the hand. “Come. I want to show you something.”
It takes us another minute before we arrive at my father’s plot. I bend down and place the flower I picked from the table on papa’s modest headstone. I kiss my palm and place the kiss on the dusty copper plaque which bears his name.
Connor stands just behind me. He is silent. I look up at him. He seems reflective, sad almost.
“I hope you don’t mind me bringing you here.”
He places a hand delicately upon my shoulder. “Why would I?”
I take his hand from my shoulder and coil my fingers around his. “You would have loved my papa. And he would have loved you.”
He mouth twists into a smile. “You sure about that? Daddy’s little girl dating a rough and ready boxer from the Bronx?”
“He’d see the good in you . . . the good that I see, and the good that the rest of my family sees.”
His gaze drops to the floor.
“I mean it, Connor. I think you two would have got on so well. Anyone who makes me as happy as you do would be okay in my father’s book.”
I push to my feet and shake the grass from my jeans. “I miss him. I miss him every single day. But it gets easier. I find myself smiling a lot more these days, especially when I remember the fun times we had.”
He sighs. “I know.”
I push close to him. “Hey, what’s wrong? I hope I haven’t upset you.”
He shakes his head. “You could never upset me. It’s just . . .”
“Baby?”
“I miss my brother, too. I never had what you have now. A family. People that you can relax with and just be yourself around. Don’t get me wrong, my friends are great. Vinnie’s like a brother, and Monty and Alex are like dads to me, but a real family . . . man, you’re a lucky girl.”
I drag my fingers through his short hair and push close to him. “Luckier since I found you.”
“Excuse me,” a voice calls from behind.
Connor turns his head and I look past him.
“Can we help you?” Connor asks.
The voice comes from a lady standing a few feet away from us. She’s in her mid-fifties. She has beautiful auburn hair, pale and lightly freckled skin, and wears a striking red coat that sets off her milk-white complexion. She gestures toward me. “Are you Ms. Chavez?”
I nod and smile.
Connor looks at me, frowning.
“I hope you don’t mind?” I say to him, almost whispering.
He looks back at the woman. She seems guarded, sheepish. “I’m sorry lady, who are—?” He quickly looks back at me, his face twisted with confusion.
“It’s your momma,” I whisper.
His eyes immediately glaze with tears. All the fights, all the pain, all of the struggles we’ve both been through, and not once have I seen the evidence of tears from him. He shakes slightly and slowly turns his head back to the woman. “Mom? But, you’re . . .”
I grip onto Connor’s trembling arm. “We found her, baby. She lives in the city. She has done for years. Runs a small florist.”
“I wanted to find you,” his mom softly says. “Believe me, I tried so hard. But as the years passed I thought you wouldn’t want me to. You were doing so well that I didn’t want to ruin it.”
Connor looks at me, tears now streaming down his face. “My Mom?”
I nod, crying myself. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t. It’s just . . .” He takes a deep breath and blows out. “This is crazy.”
I pull away from him and walk over to his mom. Holding out my hand, I tell her my first name. Tentatively, she takes my hand and we shake.
“Sofia,” she says. “That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
I look back at Connor. “Maybe I should let you both catch up . . . in private.”
His mom involuntary claws at my jacket. I can sense fear in her. “I’m not sure he’ll want to—”
“Yes,” Connor says with new resolve. “I’d like that.”
I smile at his mother and nod. She doesn’t have to say thank you to me, I can see the obvious gratitude and raw emotion in her eyes—the same shade of green as Connor. After all these years she’s finally found her youngest son. This brave lady; battered by life, who, like Connor, has a chance at redemption.
Slowly walking away, I don’t look back.
He needs this.
He needs closure. Whatever happens, even if this meeting doesn’t end the way all good fairy tales should, he has family again. Just for him to know that might be all he needs to let go of the past and move forward with life—with me by his side, every single step of the way.
34
Sofia
One month later. The Bronx.
Parked up a block or two away from Monty’s old gym, I step out the car and turn my attention to Connor. Wearing nothing but t-shirt and jeans, I’m freezing my ass off in the late autumn evening. “What are we doing out here?”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll like it.” He pauses for a second, looking me up and down. “You’re shivering.”
“Well, duh.”
Taking his cue from the chatter my teeth makes, he removes his thick quilted jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. “There, baby. Better?”
“A little. So, are you going to tell me?”
He raises both brows and shrugs.
Why do I feel tonight’s going to be hard work?
I tut. “This place, why are we here?” I glance at the rucksack in his hands and then check the time on my phone. “Isn’t it a bit late for training? It’s like, eleven at night.”
He chuckles. “We’re not out here to train. I’m retired, remember?”
“Then what?”
“Creature of habit. Anyway, you ask too many questions. Come, let me show you something.” He takes my wrist, and in one swift motion pulls me close to him and covers my eyes.
“Connor!”
“Just making sure you can’t see. Don’t worry, we won’t bump into anything. I’ll walk you nice and slow.”
“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”
“A surprise. You like surprises don’t you? You’re pretty good at dishing them out. Now, will you just shut up and entertain me here?”
Although cynical, and still shivering in spite of the fact his jacket is huddled around me, I grunt my reluctant approval.
We walk a few meters before he stops.
Bored of silly games, and still half frozen, I huff. “Can I look now?”
He edges me forward a few more steps before stopping. “All right, you can look . . . now.”
Pulling his hands away from my eyes, my jaw snaps open.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Connor, it’s . . .”
He runs up to the front door of Monty’s gym, looking excited and almost impatient. “Let’s go inside.”
“Hold on a second.”
The old, tatty, and disused appearance of the exterior has been replaced with a vibrant mural that wraps around the entire building. Street art of champions past and present, local kids, famous landmarks, and people of all ages and races adorn the once tired brick shell. As wonderful as all that is, it’s the center piece which truly takes my breath away—a painting of Connor, with me by his side.
Connor breaks me from my dream-like state. “A few of the local kids got together and fixed this up.”
I nod, still staring at the beautiful mural and wondering why the heck I’m even on it.
“I think they captured you well, baby.”
“Connor, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing.”
“Why though?”
“Huh?”
“Why am I on here, I don’t deserve to be—”
“Bullshit,” he cuts in. “Without you, none of this would be possible. You saved boxing . . . you save me.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh come on. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”
“Really, you did. You brought me and my mom back together. Christ, I thought she was dead. I feel reborn. You’ve given me a life outside of boxing. A life worth so much more.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I am rather good.”
He bursts into laughter. “Hey, don’t you get too cocky, Ms. Chavez. I’m the sucker who took the punches.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll leave the cockiness to you. You’re good at that.”
He gestures for me to come closer. Just as I race up to him, more than a little keen to head inside and investigate, a kid from down the street calls out. “Hey champ.”
Connor’s face lights up. “Danny!”
I turn my head and almost pass out. It’s the street kid who bribed me when I originally came looking for Monty. He’s still hanging around with his ever loyal gang of shady minions.
As they approach us, Connor walks over to me and wraps an arm around my waist. “Danny, this is Sofia.”
The kid holds his hand out. “We’ve met before.”
Connor’s brows meet.
As Danny shakes my hand he explains. “She came around here once before, asking to see the old man.”
“Yes,” I add. “These boys were pretty helpful. Even though it cost me.”
Danny glances over at his cohorts and throws a sheepish smile, then looks back at me. “Yeah, sorry about that. You were a stranger then. Rules of the street.”
Connor laughs. “Anyway, Sophie, this is the genius behin
d this thing.”
“You painted this?” I ask Danny, more than a little surprised.
“Well, me and the boys.”
I smile. “It’s wonderful.”
“Thanks, Miss. We got lots of art all over, from the Bronx to Queens. Con, you should give her the full tour.”
“How much?” I ask.
Danny frowns.
Connor holds me tighter. “Oh no, these boys did this for free.”
“Really?” I ask, unable to hold in my shock.
“Hey, ain’t no biggie,” Danny says modestly. “Champ, I’ll catch you later. We got some work on the other side of town.” He fist pumps Connor and then winks at me. “Goodnight, pretty lady.”
I smile at him. “Night.”
As the gang walk off down the street they wolf whistle, making Connor chuckle.
“Good kids. Nice to know they’re getting recognition for their talents at last.”
I look up at Connor. “Sacred the life out of me the last time.”
“Looks can be deceiving, Ms. Chavez. Street life can be tough on a kid. Now, do you wanna see the inside of this place or not?”
When we get to the top floor of the gym, I brace myself on the railing and look out at the newly refurbished club. My breathing is shallow. “This is . . . this is great.”
“You should work on your cardio.”
“Ever heard of a lift?”
He scoffs. “This isn’t Macy’s department store. This is a boxing gym. If someone can’t walk up a few steps then they got no business being here.”
“Well, you know me and exercise.”
He cracks into a smile. “Plenty of energy in bed, though.”
I playfully punch his arm and try to stop myself from laughing.
“Wait here.” He sprints off to the changing room, leaving me in the middle of the gym.
The place is kitted out with the very latest equipment—rows upon rows of brand new leather punch bags, cardio machines, fancy water coolers, and an arty décor that must look a world away from the spit and sawdust charm of what was once here.