I push the blinds aside, spot her lying on one of the lounge chairs smoking a cigarette and make my way onto the porch. She lifts her eyes to mine and quickly crushes her cigarette in the ashtray sitting between her legs. As I walk closer to her and take a seat on the foot of the lounge chair, I see the traces of tears that stain her flawless face.
I feel like a useless fool every time she cries, but the truth is I have no idea what to do with her tears. I don’t know how to make them stop, hell, half the time I don’t even know why she’s crying. There is so much negativity circling her, pulling her in different directions and instead of making it better for her I wind up with whiplash. As soon as I think I know how to help her feel better, something else comes along and shakes everything up. Mine and Nikki’s relationship is easy, we come and go as we please, answer to no one and live life according to our own standards. There is no drama, no constant flow of issues we have to deal with, it’s been smooth sailing until now.
I lift her legs and stretch them across my lap before bending my head to place my lips against one of her knees.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Princess?” I question, running my hands along her calves as I stare into her sad eyes.
“Nothing,” she insists, shaking her head before she forces a smile. “Everything’s peachy.”
“I might not be the brightest crayon in the box but I know when something isn’t right with you, Nikki,” I reply, holding her gaze. “Don’t shut me out because once we start pretending what affects one of us doesn’t affect the other, that’s when this thing we’re building falls apart,” I pause, reaching out to run my finger along the bridge of her nose. “We’re better than that,” I insist.
She covers her face with her hands and remains perfectly still for a moment before threading her fingers through her hair and gripping the ends in frustration. I narrow my eyes in confusion as she lifts her head and stares back at me.
“What do you want, Mikey?” She asks softly.
“What do you mean?” I question, trying to figure out how this became about me.
“Do you want kids?” She huffs. “We’re getting married, but we never discussed what happens after we say I do. Did you plan on having children? Did you want to travel the world? What do you want to do for the next sixty years?”
She’s right, we didn’t discuss the future much, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. When two people are compatible like we are, who needs plans? They always change anyway. You can plan your whole life, every last detail, up to the prayer card given to the people who attend your wake, but it only takes one gust of wind to blow your plan to shit.
Nikki and I don’t need plans, we only need each other. For the first time in my life I’m sure of something and I’m sure I want to marry her. I want to spend the next sixty years riding the tides with her and wherever we wind up is exactly where we’re meant to be.
“I’ll start,” she offers. “I never pictured myself with a fleet of kids.”
“A fleet as in more than one?”
She smiles but her eyes still hold traces of doubt.
“Do you want a baby, Mikey?”
I think about the question, cupping the back of my neck as I try to picture me and Nikki with a little squirt of our own. One baby I could probably handle but when you use words like fleet, well, shit, I start to twitch. But if you have one then I think you have to have another, being an only child gets lonely. I didn’t realize it when I was younger but after my father was murdered, I kept thinking if my mom wasn’t here, his death would be my responsibility. I’d be the one to identify his body, plan his funeral and decide what was on the back of his prayer card.
Everything I had to do alone when my mom died.
So, if kids were in the cards for me and Nikki there would have to be two of them. But if they weren’t, if she didn’t want to have children, then I’d be fine with that too. As long as I’ve got her I’ll be happy being a part of whatever she desires because she’s ALL I want. Everything else that comes along with her will be the icing on the cake.
I guess I have my answer.
“I love Luca and Victoria and when I’m around them, my heart melts but when I’m around other children, I don’t feel any sort of way. I don’t get the warm, fuzzy feelings everyone with baby fever seems to talk about,” she rambles, releasing a breath and blowing the hair out of her face.
“Baby fever?” I ask, tucking the strands behind her ear.
She chews on her bottom lip before blurting out her next thought.
“My biological clock doesn’t tick I’m not even sure it has batteries. The only thing I’m sure I want is you, everything else I’m uncertain of. I’m twenty-three years old, I’m not supposed to have life figured out,” she huffs exasperatedly.
“So what are you worried about? We’ll figure it out together as it comes.”
“Mikey, you were there, you heard the doctor when he explained how severe my case was. He specifically warned us that not only would I probably have to have the surgery more than once but having a child would be extremely difficult.”
He didn’t say impossible.
“I may not have put much thought into having children but before yesterday I had the choice and now it’s been taken from me,” she whispers, taking my hands into hers and squeezing them. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be taken from you.”
She’s lost her mind.
The stress of waiting for the test results, her father dying, throw in her bat-shit crazy relatives visiting, it’s made her lose her ever-loving mind. I pull my hands out of hers and grip her hips tugging her onto my lap before reaching up and cupping her face. Her eyes widen, and I loosen my hold on her cheeks but continue to keep my eyes on her.
“We’re only ever going to have this conversation once so listen real good, Nikki,” I order. “I asked you to marry me, put a ring on your finger for the whole world to know you’re mine. I didn’t do that without seriously thinking it through. It’s not that I wasn’t sure you were the only girl I’d ever marry, but I wanted to be sure I could be everything you needed in a husband.
Before you, I never thought about settling down, I didn’t want to be tied to another person. I told myself I was content living alone, but in reality I didn’t want to let myself get close to anyone because every person I’ve ever loved has been taken from me. After my mother died I never planned on sticking around here but I couldn’t walk away from you. We were nothing, barely reacquainted with one another when your smart mouth dared me to stay here, I knew I couldn’t go back to Pennsylvania. It was the best decision of my life and I thank my mother every day for sending me you.”
“Mikey—” she starts, but I silence her, placing my finger to her lips.
“Not done saying my peace, Princess,” I say, calmly. “I know life without you, I know the man I am without you by my side and that guy doesn’t hold a candle to the man you make me. I stayed in New York for you, hoping you’d give me a shot to be the guy you spend the rest of your life with. You…you’re my why, always and forever baby—” My words are cut off by her mouth as it crashes over mine. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pulls me closer to her, sliding her tongue between my lips.
I gave in as I always did because giving in meant I won too.
Winning is being her guy.
Winning is having her in my life.
Winning is finding the one person I’m meant to travel through this crazy thing called life with.
Winning is Nikki becoming my wife.
Winning is us.
And if it’s just us in the end, well, that’s winning too.
Breaking the kiss, I watch as her eyelids flutter open and look into those brown eyes I’m going to stare into for the rest of my life. Those eyes look back at me.
“Ask me again what I want,” I demand huskily.
“What do you want, Mikey?”
“If you decide y
ou want to have a baby then we’ll do whatever we have to do to get you pregnant,” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively, teasing her with the possibilities. “If you decide you want to get a dog instead, I’m cool with Beethoven. You want twelve cats, a parrot and goldfish, I’ll turn this house into a zoo. If you want all that and then decide you want the kid, then we’ll move the zoo into the yard and baby proof the house. Whatever you want, I’m game, as long as I get to be your guy. That’s all I want.”
“Twelve cats?” She queries with a smile.
“I’d get you a goddamn lion if it made you smile.”
“You love me,” she declares.
“More than anything,” I agree.
“I love you too, Mikey,” she whispers, leaning her forehead against mine. “And every day I thank your mom for sending you to me too.”
Cradling her in my arms, I turn her around. Lifting her, she wraps her arms around my neck as I stand and carry her toward the house. I press my lips gently to hers.
Winning.
Thanks Mom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
One of the shittiest jobs that came with the title of Victor’s enforcer was sitting on a mark. Sitting in a car, sometimes with a pair of binoculars, waiting for someone to make a move was boring as fuck. Most times, when the order came down the pipe I cursed Vic to the high heavens. I wanted a piece of the action and following a schmuck around the streets of Brooklyn wasn’t my idea of action.
I’d follow whatever asshole played Victor dirty like a shadow, learn his routine—down to the time he took his final shit of the day. In the early days I’d report my findings to Vic and he’d dismiss me of my duty, sending in the big guns to take care of whatever beef he had. As the years went on, Victor loosened his hold on the leash he had on me and after I gave him my intel he would send me back to take out the garbage.
It’s been a long fucking time since I sat in my car with a lukewarm cup of coffee, staring at a dark building waiting for signs of life. The last time I was in this position was when Vic gave me the order to check up on Maryann Valente and Mike. The night I followed him after he got the call she was in the hospital and we found out she had passed.
I thought my days of doing this shit were done but I’m the asshole who took it upon myself to sit here. There was no order, no mobster demanding I sit here with my thumb up my ass. No, this shit was all my fucking idea.
The people in my life are hurtin’ and I don’t know how to make it better for them. There is no one to blame, no kneecaps to break, no fucking cocksucker to whack. In the Pastore crime family we’re all about an eye for eye. The need to place blame heavy in our black hearts.
I can’t take Vic’s cancer away, can’t add more time to his existence and I can’t break the son of a bitch out of jail so his final days are with the people who love him, the same people I love.
But sitting around and waiting for him to die isn’t an option either. I can’t sit back and watch my wife cry trying to prepare herself for her final visit with her father. I woke up this morning and found her sitting at the kitchen table feeding the kids and writing a list of things she wants to say to her dad. She’s worried she’ll forget something and knows there is no second chance, not in death.
Victor and I have had our ups and downs, our fair share of bad blood and resentment, but the truth of the matter is I’ll always be thankful for the gift he gave me when he gave me his blessing to finally make a life for myself and his daughter.
The Pastores are just as much a part of my family as my mother and sister. I hold Nikki in the same regard as I hold Lauren. Then there is Grace, they don’t make them like her anymore. That woman doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, been through hell and back and still she smiles.
Her smile is fading, and it’s a fucking shame to watch.
I’m sure people will talk, they’ll call me an asshole, say I can’t let go of the life. But this is my life, this is all I know and when I’m at the end of my rope, running out of options it will always be this life that leads the way.
My connections in the mob may have diminished and my pride keeps me from reaching out to Rocco, but when there’s a will, there is a motherfucking way. Luckily my sister fell in love with a fucking genius. Riggs is a goddamn asset. I wish we had his expertise back in the day, maybe he could’ve gotten my ass released from jail sooner. One click of the mouse and he erases life and creates new. It’s fucking sick, especially for me, I barely know how to operate an iPhone.
Anyway, with a couple of strokes of the keys Riggs can get the information it would take me weeks to get if I did it the old fashioned way—following someone, collecting their secrets and using it against them. Maybe I snatch the person on the way to work, or there is always a good old fashioned beat down, either way they’re gums get loose and they spill.
“I’m fucking starving, where is this douche?” Riggs complains, digging into the console of my truck and pulling out a bag of Reese’s Pieces. “Jackpot,” he cheers, tearing open the corner of the package and pouring the candy into his mouth.
I keep my eyes trained on the headlights approaching the barbed wire fence as Riggs grabs his phone and pulls up the license plate we’re waiting on.
“Showtime Bianci,” he confirms as the black sedan crosses the gates and turns onto the gravel road.
Shifting the car into drive, I wait a beat before peeling out of the spot and following the Buick.
Riggs lifts his ass, pulling out a clip from his back pocket and loads his gun before nonchalantly going back to chowing down obnoxiously on the candy. I hadn’t asked him to tag along on my mission, all I asked was for him to get me the information I needed, but his stubborn ass insisted he come along.
It’s been a while since you pulled a trigger, bro, your finger might be rusty.
He had no fucking idea.
Not a clue.
I could hit my mark with my eyes closed, but I wasn’t planning on filling anyone with lead tonight.
“Tell me again his routine,” I order, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as I lift the ice cold cup of coffee to my lips. Shit was putrid.
“You don’t give a fuck about his routine, you want the dirt on him, you’re going to use that shit against this slob and if he doesn’t agree to the terms then we’ll blow his dirty little secret wide open. Fuck that, we’ll grab both the wife and the whore, introduce them to one another before making the dickhead choose which one gets to live,” he growls.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah, pent up aggression,” he says with a shrug of the shoulders.
“I don’t want to hear some shit about my sister not giving you…”
“Are you kidding me? Kitten would never survive without my cock, she’s the real tiger in the bedroom,” he says smugly.
Maybe I would pump someone full of lead tonight.
The fucking Tiger himself.
Then he’d know for sure there ain’t nothing rusty with me.
“Shit, I forget you’re her brother sometimes,” he grins. “You should see your face man, P-R-I-C-E-L-E-S-S.”
“Try harder to remember,” I say through clenched teeth.
“It’s my folks that have me all out of whack, itching to shoot someone. I thought beating the fuck out of that weasel, Sommers, would satisfy me, but nope I may have an anger problem.”
“Clearly,” I mutter, turning right behind the sedan I was following. “What’s got you riled up?”
“Lauren didn’t tell you about my folks?” He crumbles up the empty bag of Reese’s and flings it out the window. “I suppose that’s a good thing,” he contemplates. “Maybe she forgot.”
“Talk.”
“My parents showed up on our doorstep, insulted your sister and ripped into me for my life choices,” he sneers.
“I thought you had nothing to do with your parents,” I say.
“I didn’t. They dro
pped from the fucking sky like a bunch of vultures.”
“Well what do they want?”
“I didn’t ask. I kicked their asses to the curb when they gawked at me and my family. Fuck that shit, fuck them, fuck their millions, fuck it all.”
“Yeah, you might want to look into that anger problem,” I advise.
“Oh, give it up man. If your pops showed up on your door step what would you do?”
“We’re not talking about me,” I evade.
“Yeah, you’d fucking whack that prick,” he surmises.
Probably.
“My father left my mother high and dry, turned his back on his kids and never gave us a second thought. You turned your back on your family and they show up on your doorstep anyway,” I counter. “Don’t know your folks but that shit has to count for something.”
“It counts for nothing. They heard they got a grandkid and are looking for him to rule their oil empire.”
“Not a bad gig,” I argue. “It could be worse. Eric could wind up sitting in a truck with Luca both of them locked and loaded looking to wreak havoc on the warden of a federal prison.”
“Shit, imagine that,” he laughs.
“Let’s not, let’s hope those two boys are more like their mamas than us,” I say. “Call your old man, Riggs. Look at what we’re doing, think about why we’re tailing this fuck home. Life’s too short for regrets, man.”
“You left the mob and became a philosopher. I can’t wait to see the A&E documentary they do on your ass,” he quips, tipping his chin to the car in front of us as it rolls to a stop at a red light. “Let’s get this motherfucker,” he adds, reaching for the door handle.
I nod watching as he pulls a ski mask over his face and jumps out of the car. Riggs runs around the front of my truck and right up to the driver of the sedan, pulling the door open as he cocks his gun straight at the warden of Otisville. He pushes him into the passenger seat and climbs into the front seat, speeding through the red light with me right behind him.
Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) Page 18
