Remember This Part

24. I-Spy

Alex.

The list of people I would kill if I could has gotten longer, courtesy of the ex-boyfriend. Despite Thea's attempts to ease my mind, I'm still fuming when I get home. I angrily toss my keys on the counter, which prompts Lyle to throw a scowl over his shoulder.

"You startled Ham," he chides, holding up his sud-soaked guinea pig.

"Lyle, I told you to stop washing that in the kitchen sink," I snap.

"Someone's not feeling very chipper tonight," he continues, pouring some shampoo onto a sponge. "Usually after you hang out with Thea, you're all happy and shit, and I gotta say, I prefer that version of you."

"Shut up," I mutter, heading to the fridge to grab a beer. I intend to take it back to my room so I can plan a murder in peace until I notice the envelope sitting on the counter. Bryce-Meyers Law and Investigation is typed up in red letters on the top left-hand corner. For some reason, I feel very confident about what's in that envelope.

Dear Alex Velasco,

We are pleased to inform you...

I think about Abuela, Antonio, Thea, Manuel, the ex. Three months in Washington D.C. where I won't see Antonio, where I can't take care of Abuela, where I don't get to spend time with Thea. Our relationship is still so new. Can you tell a girl you've only been with for a couple of weeks that you're leaving for three months?

I think about my mom and I can almost hear her telling me how proud she is.

The letter is folded up and put in my back pocket. There's no point in thinking about it now.

And it turns out I don't have to think about it, because the front door opens and in walks Antonio.

I can tell he's rattled the second I catch a glimpse of his face, and that's confirmed when he slams the door closed behind him.

"You startled Ham," Lyle repeats, clearly annoyed. But Antonio doesn't pay him any mind. Instead, he heads to the fridge and grabs a beer, and in that moment, I really understand why people say we look so much alike.

"What's with you?" I ask. He doesn't respond, now intently focusing on popping the bottle top off. Antonio has plenty of experience opening beer bottles, so the fact that he's struggling with it right now tells me just how bad this mood of his is.

I don't pester him with any more questions. Obviously, he needs a minute to cool off. So I head over to the couch and take a seat, waiting patiently for him to join me. He eventually succeeds in getting the bottle open, takes a long swig that empties half of it, and then plops down in Cato's recliner across from me.

"Ruby's pregnant."

I pull the beer away from my mouth before I can choke on it.

"What?" I say.

"What?" Lyle echoes.

"She took a test," Antonio says, his voice a little raw. "Three, actually. All positive."

"Those aren't always accurate," I point out.

"It's true, you can't always believe the ads," Lyle chimes in. But when Antonio and I make eye contact, we both know.

"What am I gonna do?"

"What didn't you do?" I ask. I don't bother masking the accusatory tone, even if I know he doesn't need that right now. "Don't tell me you were dumb enough to forget a condom."

"I did use a condom," Antonio shoots back. "I always use a condom. But every once in a while, to very unlucky people, something gets through!"