by Mj Fields
I feel like I have been on a wild fucking goose chase, trying to find my fucking phone. And worse, getting a new one doesn’t mean a damn thing because I don’t know one person’s number. I know because after Joe told me Pace had been in so he could see what opening the place was like, he took my phone back to the marina.
I pass by a phone store and decide to stop and grab one because I don’t want to go to the damn marina. I want to pull off the biggest night of my life. When they tell me that I need to backup my current phone in order to get my contacts to transfer, I walk out.
A waste of time. A total waste of fucking time.
I know damn well Pace is going to want to chat about business, and it’s not like I don’t like the guy—I fucking do—but I want Paige now.
Inside the marina, I call out for him. There is no answer.
I walk outside and see Evan and him on the dock next to my boat. He waves me down, and I know already I’m in for at least an hour of small talk and pleasantries. I’m fucked if I don’t play the damn game.
When I’m almost to them, they walk onto the boat. I follow them.
“Dad wants you to take us for a spin around the island.” Pace has a black eye. “He said you were going to ask Pea to marry you?”
I nod and force a smile. “Lots of things I need to do to make it perfect.”
“But I …” Pace begins.
“Do you know her favorite flower? Wine? Music?” Evan cuts him off.
“Do you?” Pace asks his father.
“If he’s going to ask my only daughter to marry him, he better know these things.” He glares at him then looks at me. “Quick trip around the island should gain you enough information to make it right.”
My tongue between her legs would make it right, I think as I reach in my pocket for the keys.
“Got them right here,” Evan says with a bit of a fuck you for wanting to fuck my daughter tone … if that’s even a thing.
Instead of being a dick, I take the keys and even manage a thank you. Then I look at Pace. “Got my phone?”
“Shit, yeah, it’s up at the marina.”
“I’ll get it.” I all but jump over the edge and run to the marina to grab my phone so I can talk to her, text her, fucking communicate with her before I lose my shit.
When I grab it off the charger, it’s fucking dead.
There’s a charger on the boat, I think as I run down the dock.
When I’m halfway to the boat, I here Evan yell, “Did you lock up?”
I stop dead in my tracks and turn around, running back to the fucking marina to make sure all the fucking doors are locked. Then I run back toward the boat.
Halfway there, Pace yells, “Dad needs his pills on the counter, just in case.”
You have got to be fucking kidding me, I think as I turn around and head back to the fucking marina.
Once inside, I grab his pills and a canvas bag with the Arnesen logo on it. I think of the girls and any trip in a vehicle over half an hour requiring drinks and snacks and something to entertain them so they wouldn’t give me the Spanish—or in their case, the Italian—Inquisition. Right now, I would swap Evan for the both of them. And if I could find a damn coloring book and some crayons, I would throw them in, too.
Try harder, Vincent pops into my mind, pissing me off because that was their way of trying to put me in my place for their own fucked-up reasons, always involving something self-serving and immoral.
As I walk to the boat, I feel like a dick because, in this case, it’s me telling myself that because I need—no, want—to get along with them for me, I feel a bit self-serving.
I like these people. I respect who they are, what they have done, and how important family seems to be to them. And although I want everything now, I suppose this isn’t a waste of time—this little jaunt around the island, getting to know them more, know Paige more. It becomes clear to me that it isn’t a waste of time or a means to an end. It’s an investment in a future that involves more than I ever dreamed.
When I’m halfway down the dock again, Pace yells, “He needs water.”
I pull a bottle out of the bag and keep walking.
Pace yells over his shoulder, “He’s got it.”
I hear Evan’s muffled voice, and then I see Pace throw his hands in the air.
“You have snacks on this thing?”
I nod then laugh at his frustration.
When I step onto the boat, Pace shakes his head. “Sorry, man.”
I clamp my hand on his shoulder and tell him, “It’s no big deal.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it to him. “Can you put this on the charger next to the bed? I’d really like to talk to Paige.”
“Use my phone,” he offers as Evan comes up the stairs.
“I can wait a little while longer.”
I take my time showing Evan the control system and how to start the boat. I even give him the passcode to override the keys if they get lost.
I back us into the water, and yes, I step aside and offer him the helm.
“You sure about that?”
I nod. “I am.”
“Where is Pea anyway?” Pace asks.
“At home,” I tell him at the same time Evan says, “New Jersey.”
My fucking blood boils as I look at him, and I don’t hide my anger either.
He shrugs. “She needed her girls. That, Vincent, is something she’ll never outgrow.”
“She could have fucking asked me,” I sputter.
“You mean told. She could have given you the common decency of telling you.” He gives me a challenging look.
I don’t want any fucking misunderstandings, so I give it to him straight.
“No, I meant asked. I abso-fucking-lutely meant asked.”
“You have one hell of a temper, don’t you, boy?” He turns, facing me. He’s just as pissed off as I am.
“We all have a temper.”
“Not all of us carry fucking scars like the ones you do, a clear indication you like a fight—”
“Like a fight? Like a fight!” I’m about ready to unleash hell upon the man whose daughter, although she’s pissing me off right now, will be my world. But I don’t owe him anything more than I have given him. “I stopped liking fights when I was sixteen years old.”
“So, you admit it. Well, maybe that’s why Pea left to go talk to her friends. Maybe she needed reassurance that you no longer like fights. But understand, Vincent, if you ever start again and one hair is harmed on my daughter’s head, I hope you like hell, because that’s where I’ll send you.”
“Jesus Christ, Dad, leave the poor guy alone.”
He looks at Pace. “The poor guy comes in here, buying up the place in the name of love, with no mention of family, and all I know about him is he’s connected to the men Laney and Melyssa married, who have never come back home. For God’s sake, Pace, Melyssa’s husband killed his own father, and this Valentina woman’s boyfriend killed one of her family members.”
“Sabato’s father was a piece of shit who made his life hell. He came after him and shot him. Sabato defended himself. Valentina’s step-uncle raped her and Franco’s sister, who killed herself. He simply rid the world of trash.”
“And where is your family, Vincent?”
“My father is dead,” I snap.
“Dad, ease the hell up,” Pace nearly begs.
“My mother is a whore, an addict, and these fucking scars”—I rip my shirt off and turn my back to him so he can get a good fucking look—“are from men who either wanted to fuck a young boy or beat him for fun, which she allowed.” I turn back around to see him now sitting in the captain’s chair.
“So, yes, I used to like to fight. I also liked to survive. And Franco pulled me out of a bar where I was probably going to die and gave me a job with the Segretti family, who trust me implicitly. And your daughter, she knows every bit of that information. She was the very first person I ever told. It’s in my past, but it was
not by choice. But, fuck yes, I like to fight. Even more than liking it, I’m really fucking skilled at it.” I try to calm the fuck down, but I can’t.
I point at him. “And that look right there—that look of pity—infuriates me almost as much as trusting that you really wanted to help me know your daughter more, only to find out you just want to keep me away, and apparently, so does she.”
I walk to the stairs and head down in search of my phone, because I give a fuck less if her father knows the real me. He was never going to give me a fucking chance anyway.
I grab it, but the fucking thing is still not charging.
I look up when I hear a knock on the wall and see Evan walking down.
“I’m in no mood for anymore,” I tell him, unplugging and plugging back in the fucking charger.
“Well, I think I can fix that if you give me a minute.”
I turn and look at him as he walks to the breaker box.
He flips a few switches then turns and looks at me. “Try again.”
I want to tell him to go to hell, but more than that, I want to know what the hell is going on.
When I plug it back in, the red light brightens the screen.
I look back at him, now knowing damn well he did it and having no fucking idea how long I can hold off plowing him.
I walk back up the stairs without saying a fucking word.
“He apologize?” Pace asks from the captain’s chair.
“Not yet,” Evan says from behind me.
I look and we’re a fuck of a lot farther from the shore than I would like to be, because jumping ship right now, literally and figuratively, on this whole fucking place isn’t just crossing my mind. It’s consuming it.
Chapter 21
Sorry Not Sorry
Vincent
When my phone finally charges, I see the text she sent me.
Don’t be upset. I just need a few days. XOXO - P.
I want to smash the phone.
When I scroll up and see the one she sent before that, though, I want to fuck her, cuff her to me, show her damn father, and prove she didn’t run away … but she fucking did, so I’m still confused.
Still tired, still in pain, but thank you. Day made. It sounds crazy, but I want it to last, too. BTW, I think you’re going to be a lot of fun to grow old with. XXX - P.
I scroll up, and then … then I feel like I’m going to have a fucking heart attack. I didn’t send the fucking thing. I just made a damn note of some of the shit I wanted to tell her. Fucking Siri.
Love, that four-letter word describes a feeling that’s definition is never the same and is ever-changing. Without honesty, respect, and loyalty, there is no way it will last.
I want it to last.
I try to call once and am denied. Then I lose my shit and do it over and over, denied every time.
Then I get a text
This is Nikki. Paige is asleep, and I won’t wake her. She’s exhausted. Advice: let her come to you, Vincent. She will come to you. She’s in love with you.
In love is intended to put me at ease. It doesn’t. In love is a totally different monster, a new monster. In love technically means she can leave it at any time and be out of love. I’m not going to let that happen either.
The next night, on the plane before take-off, I check for a message. I’ve given her time, at least one fucking night and a two full days. Isn’t that enough?
Trying to stop from driving myself crazy, I check my email and see one I have been expecting, that is important, but in all the mess today, was forgotten. I will make a shitty businessman.
From: Cyrus Steel
Subject: Information you requested.
Message:
This guy’s a fucking joke. He’s hung himself. You won’t have to do a thing.
If you think he’s dangerous, let me send someone down. From what I understand, you’re balls deep in a blonde you’ve been dying to nail and a business you have no intention of owning.
Life’s a fucking trip, Vincent. Hang on and enjoy the ride.
No Regrets.
Cyrus
I shoot him a reply before take-off.
From: Vincent
Subject: Requesting a meeting tomorrow.
Message:
I’m coming up to Jersey.. Let me know the best time to meet tomorrow.
Vincent
“Here is fine,” I tell the cab driver when we are a block from my old place.
After paying him, I grab my bags and step out, inhaling the scent of the Jersey shore as I walk to the gate, one I know is secure, and punch in a code designed to not trigger the system.
I see two vehicles, both are recognizable. One belongs to Nikkolette O’Donnell and the other to her husband Abe.
I walk up to the house, punch in another code, also designed not to alert anyone that I am here.
No, I’m not trying to scare them. I’m not trying to prove a point that I can get in. I’m simply avoiding the inevitable argument I will have at one in the morning with the O’Donnells who will wake her and cause her to feel like she has to choose sides. In essence, I am being selfish as fuck because I need her, but I can’t help feeling like she needs me as much.
I walk into the room that she has stayed in dozens of times and set the bags on the floor before toeing off my shoes. Then I sit on the edge of the bed beside her, and she rolls over, eyes fluttering open. As soon as she sees me, her bottom lip immediately pouts out.
The Paige pout, I think, fighting the urge to kiss her, I put my finger against it and whisper, “No talking. No arguing. No lying. No sneaking. No more, Paige.”
She nods and does the one thing that makes every nerve in my body that has been on high fucking alert relax. She wraps her hands around mine and holds it against her face.
“Are you tired?” I ask.
She nods, and from the light of the moon, I see tears forming in her sad eyes.
“So am I.”
As she moves over, I pull the duvet back and slide under it. She rests her head against my chest and wraps her arm around me, whispering, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
I can’t tell her it’s okay, because it’s not. Then again, I clearly hurt her in some way that I don’t even know of. Right now, knowing this could be the last night I get to hold her, I don’t give a fuck.
I press my lips to the top of her head, inhale the scent of her, and then whisper, “Paige, if you don’t want this—us—you need to tell me so I can figure out what I need to do.”
She pushes up and looks at me. Sad, confused, she’s a fucking mess.
“I-I—”
“Not now. Tomorrow.”
She shakes her head as the tears fall in buckets now. “I’m not pregnant.”
I feel like I can breathe for the first time since learning she left.
“You left because you’re not pregnant? You thought I would be, what? Angry? Disappointed?” I grab her face. “Lady, if you want a baby, you’re gonna have to stop swallowing.” I laugh, and she begins to sob. “Holy fuck, Paige. If you want a baby, we can absolutely step it up. You won’t hear me complain.” I laugh again as I hug her tightly, and she sobs as she clings to my shirt.
“I’m not pregnant,” she cries out louder this time.
“Okay, okay, Paige. It’s okay.”
I think she’s losing her fucking mind. Then I wonder if I missed something while looking into her all those years ago, and again when she left Italy. Maybe she has some sort of mental health issue.
When the door opens and the light turns on, I hear a loud gasp before my eyes adjust and see Nikki and Abe.
“What are you doing here?” Nikki’s tone is accusatory, and it pisses me off.
“I don’t want him to see me like this,” Paige cries against my chest.
“Well then, he needs to leave,” Nikki says as she sits on the side of the bed and tries to pull her toward her. “Let her go,” she spews at me.
I glare at her yet say nothing. I don’t
tell her that Paige is still clinging to me and clearly wants me here, and I don’t tell her I wouldn’t leave if she wasn’t.
“Nikkolette,” Abe says, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“She doesn’t want him here!”
He looks at me, running his hand through his hair, and sighs.
“Tell him to leave,” she says, tugging on Paige again.
“Nikkolette, she’s holding his shirt; she clearly wants him here. Let’s leave them alone.”
“Paige, do you want him here?” Nikki seems confused, which I of course read into as Paige said something to lead her to believe she doesn’t.
Paige sniffs loudly and holds me tighter.
“That’s a yes, Nikkolette.” Abe reaches out his hand, and she eventually takes it, letting him lead her out of the room.
After several minutes, Paige sits back and wipes her eyes, still sniffing.
I reach toward the nightstand and grab a tissue, which she takes from me. Then I grab the whole box. She clearly is going to need it.
I hand her tissue after tissue as I watch her wipe her nose, blow her nose, pat her face, wipe away tears, taking in deep breaths that quiver, looking at me like she wants to say something, and then tries to even out her breathing again. It’s exhausting, and it fucking hurts because I have no clue how to make this any better.
I’m pretty sure I can’t buy the fix, but I’m also more than sure that the strength I have always seen in her will shine through and hopefully soon.
“I look like an idiot,” she whispers.
“You’re beautiful, Paige, but I’m going to have to agree with you.”
Her jaw drops, and she gasps.
“Come on, Paige, get pissed.”
“I am pissed,” she almost yells … almost.
I can’t help smiling.
She shakes her head. “This isn’t funny.”
“No, the past two days have kind of sucked.”
I swear she’s going to cry again.
“Because you weren’t there. But I woke up yesterday in bed with another woman.”
“Right.” She rolls her eyes.
“I should take offense to the fact that you think I’m that undesirable.” I push back the hair that is stuck to her face. “Your Babička doesn’t.”
