He’d gripped the handle of the spoon like a small child as he tried to steady it. Most of the broth spilled back into his bowl before he was able to bring it to his mouth. A wave of pity swept over him. He’s dying, and he’s my father. The realization nearly choked him, not permitting him to swallow his own soup. What had happened thirty-two years ago was in the past. He had to deal with today, and reality was that he had reunited with his biological father, although he knew the reunion would not be a long or lasting one. The man his mother told him about was not the same one she’d remembered. The Alejandro Delgado Eve knew had used his social status, wealth and diplomatic immunity as an attaché with the Mexican Embassy in Washington, D.C., to abduct his only child. Living in exile had left him a broken man. Curving an arm around his father’s thin shoulders, Chris eased the spoon from the unsteady hand. “Let me help you, Daddy,” he whispered close to his ear. Alejandro went completely still, his eyes filling with moisture.
