Filthy Secret

EPILOGUE

LUPITA

I step into the kitchen of the new house and stop short as I find Mom in front of the oversized kitchen window, pouring herself some wine.

“I didn’t know you liked wine.” I settle onto a stool at the counter.

She chuckles. “I don’t, usually, but Roman suggested I try this.” She brings the glass to her nose and inhales. “Mmm.” Then she sips, her lids drifting closed as her lips pull into a smile.

Estela sets a bowl of fruit in front of me. “Mr. Roman said he and your father would be late for dinner and you were to have something to eat.” “I’m good, Estela.” I shake my head, nowhere near needing food.

“Ah, no.” She wags a finger at me. “I’m not going to be the one to tell

Mr. Roman you didn’t feed his baby.”

“Whose side are you on?” Frowning, I set my hand to my swollen belly.

“His,” she replies without hesitation. “At least when it comes to the baby,” she adds, then turns back to the counter.

After five months of carrying a child, I’ve learned that Roman won’t stand for me to deviate from what’s healthy for me and the baby. And Estela has been with us every day to make sure.

“She did the same to me,” Mom says, taking the stool next to mine.

“And look at what a beautiful girl we have now.” Estela winks at me then sets a plate with prosciutto, crackers, and cheese on the counter. “Eat.”

My mouth waters immediately. This child is definitely taking after Roman.

“We do.” Mom raises her wine in a salute. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.” She turns to Estela. “What did you think of it?” Estela glances in my direction.

Mom raises a brow. “Estela! She’s married and pregnant. I think she’s old enough to see you drink.”

Estela chuckles. “True.” She goes across the kitchen, pulling the glass from the sink. “I was hoping you wouldn’t go wash your hands, mija.” She sniffs carefully, puts her lips to the rim of the glass then, after a full second,

she finally drinks. “Ay, Dios mio. This is delicious.”

Mom holds out her glass to me. “Taste.”

Estela holds up her hand. “No-no-no.” She shakes her head. “What do you think will happen when Mr. Roman finds out you gave his pregnant wife some wine.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“She’s right.” Mom pulls the glass back and shrugs. “I have enough to deal with putting up with your father’s crap,” she says, the glass at her lips.

My mouth falls open. “Mom.” Estela laughs, covering her mouth.

“Okay.” She puts her glass on the counter. “At this point, I’m sure you realize what it’s like to be married to a stubborn man.” “Well, yes,” I grudgingly admit.

“Then I’m going to share something your grandmother told me.”

Estela gasps. “Ines.”

Mom waves a hand, dismissing Estela’s concern, while I lay a protective hand over my belly. “The men in this family may have the balls, but it’s the women who have the brains.”

I look from one woman to the other. “Grandma said that?”

Estela picks up her drink. “Every time your dad and grandpa got into it.”

“Why didn’t I ever hear this?” I ask.

Mom runs her fingers through the hair at my temple. “Your grandma, and great-grandma, and great-great grandma always had to deal with Torres men.”

“And I’ve always been the wildcard,” I finish, slumping against the counter.

She picks up her wine. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re determined, hardworking, and loyal. But, dear Lord, can they be difficult.” She drinks. “How long did he and Roman go round and round when Roman mentioned building a wine cellar?”

Estela rolls her eyes. I nod. “I know.” “What got them to stop?” she continues.

“When you said the cellar might end up flooded,” I reply, going back for another cracker.

“And why, my dearest daughter, does it flood here sometimes?”

“Because we have clay in this area which doesn’t absorb water fast enough, so we end up flooding every few years when we have a bad rain.” “Exactly.” She holds the wineglass, pointing her index finger at me as she winks while Estela pretends to clap. “And if Jorge had started with that, don’t you think things would have gone a lot smoother?”

I turn to the fruit bowl to hide a smile. What neither of them have realized is that Roman enjoys sparring with Dad. While Dad gave Roman a hard time at the beginning, Roman figured him out pretty quick. “I suppose.”

“I’m glad you turned out more like my side of the family.”

A wave of sadness rolls through me. “And I’m the last Torres, the one who didn’t do anything to grow the legacy.” “What?” Mom asked, wide-eyed.

“Que?” Estela asks, following suit.

I shrug. “I won’t be able to help around the ranch.” My days of helping with fences, rounding up strays, and birthing are over. “Roman won’t have it.”

Mom and Estela turn to each other then back to me, forehead scrunched, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Lupita, you’re the one who’s done the most for the Torres legacy.”

“By marrying someone?” Somehow that doesn’t seem like doing something significant.

“You’re doing the one thing none of the Torres men could do.” Mom’s gaze lowers to my midsection. “You’re giving birth to continue the bloodline.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t really considered that.

“Nobody’s been able to do that since your…” She scrunches her brow. “The original Lupita.”

I freeze then talk around a mouthful of strawberry. “Guadalupe Torres was a woman?”

“Yes.” She gives a silly grin. “Sorry, I’ve had too much wine to remember how many greats go before grandmother.” “Why did I not know this?” I ask, flabbergasted.

“Because the Torres are known for having one heir who’s a male,” Estela adds. “Hey, I remember my mom talking about how your grandad was a looker.” She winks.

“Other Torres have married to grow the ranch,” Mom declares. “That’s why your father encouraged you to consider Antonio.” She turns to Estela. “Have you heard anything about him after the accident?”

Estela shakes her head. “No,” she replies, turning to me. “But I’m glad you chose Mr. Roman.”

“Me, too,” I reply. Although it was never confirmed, I suspect Antonio Mendoza’s accident happened while he and Roman were having words. But, true to his word, Roman resolved the issue with the ranch. The fence was relocated, and we moved back home.

“We’re back,” Dad calls out from the front of the house.

Roman prefers a quieter approach, but once he reaches the kitchen, his gaze comes straight to me. The hunger in his eyes makes me melt, despite the fact I’m sitting next to Mom.

“How did it go?” Mom asks.

“Good. We got another forty-seven acres, all the caliche we need, and we’re moving,” Dad declares, running his hands through his hair. “Moving?” She turns to me and shakes her head. “What?” “Hold on.” He holds both hands up.

Roman steps in, heading my way. “You spend most of the day with

Lupita. I assume you’d enjoy staying here.”

Mom’s face lights up. “I would.”

“But there’s no way we could live under the same roof,” Dad cuts in. “No way,” Roman agrees. “So, we’re adding another roof.” “What do you mean?” Mom’s adorably confused.

“We’re adding another wing to the house,” Roman explains. “You’ll have your house connected to ours.”

“Ohhh. That’s wonderful,” she declared, excited.

“Oh, that’s a lot to clean.” Estela’s eyes go unfocused.

Mom frowns at her. “It’s not like I won’t do my part.”

I’d argue the house is already big enough. At six bedrooms, a den, a reading room, living room, dining room, entertainment room, wine room it’s already bigger than both the houses I’ve lived in, combined.

“And he got me some new guns,” Dad says with the enthusiasm of a boy with a new toy.

“Oh.” Mom cranes her neck to see.

“I’ll have to learn to use my left hand.” He pulls the gun, pointing down as he shows it around.

“Let’s go outside so you can try it,” Mom suggests.

“Yes,” Estela encourages.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Roman moves in front of me as they trail out like children. He pulls me to the edge of the seat so he’s standing between my knees. “You didn’t have to do that.” I run my fingers across his cheek.

“The guns?” He shrugs it off, settling his arms around me. “There’s a lot of snakes out there, and I’ll need a trainer for a while.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” I look up at him from under my lashes.

“Oh, the house. That’s what you mean.”

“Yes, the house.”

“A man needs his own roof, Lupita.” He glances out the kitchen window. “Especially your father.”

Especially my father. “Is that why you did it? To make my father happy?” I ask, feeling self-conscious.

“Maybe I did it to make you happy.” His expression is shuttered, making him hard to read.

“Why?”

His gaze covers my face. “Because I love you.”

Tears sting my eyes. “I love you,” I whisper, running my arms over his shoulders. His mouth comes down on mine, and he pulls me close, crushing me to him until I’m light-headed.

Ending the kiss, he sets his forehead to mine. “Besides, I think your mother will enjoy being around her grandchildren.”

My heart constricts. “You know, we may only have one,” I remind him, hating to shatter his image of our family.

Roman drops his hand to my stomach, caressing his child. “I’m good with one,” he says quietly. “But…” He grins. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to make another.” He shifts, slipping a hand under my knees, and I have enough sense to hold tight as he picks me up and starts down the hall.