Page 65 of Flawless

“What were you laughing about just now?” I ask.

“I just love seeing that joy on your face. For a moment there, you were so open. Innocence and pure happiness were shining through on your face.”

Shrugging, I say, “I don’t know. It’s just such a beautiful day.”

I stretch my hand out and turn my palm up as we pass through a grove of Spanish moss trees. I wiggle my fingers as I catch some of the rain droplets falling from them.

Zenon reaches over to grab my free hand and intertwines his fingers with mine.

I look at him, and I ask, “Is Zílda going to be okay sharing her father?”

“Of course, she will. I mean, she usually has me to herself most of the time, but not always. There are lots of times thatshe’s shared me with my family whenever we go home to visit, and she’s often had to share me with my friends in Italy.”

“What about other women?” I ask.

Surprisingly, I don’t feel an ounce of judgment or jealousy when I ask the question, and neither do I feel those emotions as I anticipate his answer.

“I’ve never introduced her to another woman that I was involved with or intimate with before.”

“Then how do you know that she’ll be okay with me?”

“She’s different than most kids her age.”

“Different, how?” I ask, genuinely interested in knowing more about his daughter.

In the past, I was so self-consumed that I only wanted to know about people who weren’t directly involved in my life by what impact they could possibly have on my life.

“She’s mature for her age and very loving and kind. Zee Zee’s been pressing me for some time to get a girlfriend that would be good to me so that I could settle down and marry.”

Smiling, I ask, “Is that what you call her, Zee Zee?”

“Yeah.”

“Why does she want you to marry?”

Laughing, he shakes his head and says, “She claims that I’m the marrying type. Whatever that means.”

For the first time, sorrow fills my heart. I’m not good enough for Zenon.

I wiggle my fingers free of his. “You are,” I say softly.

He glances at me, back at the road, and then back at me again.

“Hey, are you okay?” Zenon asks, gripping my chin and turning my face towards him as we come to a traffic light.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just wondering if I’m holding you back from some great love that’s out there waiting for you.”

Zenon swallows, and his jaw clenches as he turns away from me and drives forward when the light turns green.

“Did I say something to offend you?” I ask.

“If you don’t know by now,” he mutters.

Sighing, he turns up the radio and doesn’t say anything else to me again.

When we arrive, he pulls into a lot on Cumberland Street in the French Quarter, halfway between the market and the fountain at Waterfront Park.

Lots of people are out enjoying the beautiful day.