Breaking

Chapter 25.

A few months later...
Arabella knocks violently on the front door before opening it and screaming that she's home and that Alex is with her. I confessed to her that I can't notice the little things in the background anymore, now whenever we're not in the same room or when she's coming home, like now, she's loud. I know it annoys the others sometimes, she knows it too but she doesn't stop. She gets louder.

Arabella and Alex are singing the chorus to Smells Like Teen Spirits as they enter the kitchen.

"Hola, papa." She smiles and gives me a side hug.

"Hi, baby girl." I put down my camera, hug her back, and kiss the top of her head. "How was the gym?"

"It's hot summer so we're still working out outside now. What's this?" She reaches for the food on the counter then quickly yanks her hand away. "Sorry. I saw the camera but it took me a moment to realize you're working."

"No, it's actually perfect timing, I just finished. I checked the photos and everything."

"What is it?" Arabella asks shyly as I grab a knife.

"It's a garlic bread pasta torte," I answer.

"What's that?" She points at the caviar.

"Caviar." I cut off two pieces, place them on plates, and hand one to Arabella and the other to Alex. "You don't have to eat it," I tell her. I know she's not used to my cooking, she calls it "fancy foods" but she doesn't wait for a fork. She picks up the bread and quickly takes a large bite before any pasta falls off.

She keeps her face blank as she chews her food then swallows. When she sees I'm on the edge of my seat, she smiles and nods, then she takes another bite. "It's really good, dad," she says with a mouth full of food. Alex nods in agreement. I didn't even notice him eating.

"Thank you," I tell them.

"Are Rosalee and Michael still coming tonight?" Arabella nods, and I nod. "Then can I go to Alex's for the weekend?" In the corner of my eye, I see Alex slowly starting to sneak out of the kitchen.

"No," I answer simply. Then I point to Alex. "Wait right there." He freezes.

"Por favor, papa," Arabella pouts, giving me her big brown puppy dog eyes. She bats her long lashes and sticks out her bottom lip and everything.

"No. You're not staying at Alex's house."

"You're making it sound like I'm sleeping over. It's only for a couple of hours. His parents will be there!"

"Too bad you won't."

"¡Pensé que habías dicho que confiabas en mí!"

"I do trust you!" I fire back.

"Then let me go!"

"Other than trusting you, give me another reason why I should let you go." A small grin starts to play on my lips and I see it's starting to piss her off.

But then she flashes a cocky smile, pulling her arms behind her back, and starts bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Because we missed my birthday."

All my amusement vanishes. "No! You said you didn't want to celebrate your birthday so we didn't." The only thing she agreed to for her birthday was a strawberry cake, two dozen chocolate-covered strawberries, and for Alex to do her homework for three days. I had to threaten to take away her phone and iPad if she didn't let me sing her happy birthday. It's how I used to spend my birthdays and now I finally understand why it pissed off Rosalee and Patrick. When you care about someone so much, celebrating the day of their birth is a need. That's why I let her celebrate mine. My birthday was six days ago-Arabella keeps counting-and we went to a museum, then to the movies, then Arabella made me a cake. It was nice and simple. The first birthday I actually enjoyed in a long, long time.