Custom Love

by Chantal Fernando

  I’m fuming as I get into my car and drive home. How am I going to solve this all on my own? I can’t just let it go. I need to set things right.

  And somehow, I’m going to.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You’re tense,” Trade tells me that night, while we’re sitting on the couch watching a movie. He’s right, of course, after the day I had. I can’t seem to let it go and just be present with him right now.

  Dinner with the kids went well, aside from some attitude and a few remarks from Alia. It’s getting a bit worse the more I spend time with them. Little comments under her breath. Eye rolling. Everyone has been ignoring it, but I know there is a bigger problem here, although it’s not my place to say anything.

  We had a roast with all the trimmings, and my personal favorite, cheesy cauliflower, but I can’t seem to get out of my head and stop thinking about work and what Decker said.

  “I know, I’m sorry. It was a long day today,” I admit, leaning my head on his shoulder. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “What is it?” he asks, giving me his full attention.

  “Decker called me into the station today—he’s been working on Taylor’s death,” I explain. “He knows I took a step back when the Damon trail ran cold, but when Taylor died he asked for my help looking into it. While digging into Taylor, he found two witnesses who said Damon was out selling drugs to them at the same time that Ariel was murdered.”

  Trade stills next to me.

  I keep talking, rushing my words out. “Decker was warned off the case, for some reason, and was told there is more to this than everyone knows. And now I don’t know what to do with what he told me.”

  “I thought this whole Damon thing was forgotten,” Trade says quietly.

  “So did I,” I respond, sighing. After a long silence, I ask the question that seems to be the white elephant in the room. “But what if there’s truth to it?”

  I know Trade probably doesn’t want to talk about it, but this is my reality right now, and I need to be able to share this with him.

  “I don’t know,” he replies, voice strained. “Why wouldn’t these witnesses have come out during the trial?”

  “Damon and his mother swore they were together that night, so I think bringing them in would’ve had both of them on the line for perjury. Also, the witnesses were buying drugs at the time,” I reply, shrugging. “I have no idea. The whole thing is such a mind fuck. We still don’t know if Taylor was murdered or if she fell. There are just so many questions here, and no one is asking them.”

  “And you think it’s your job to do so?” he asks, as he starts massaging my shoulders, working out the knots. “Do you think maybe Decker is guiding your decision here? You know, I hate the way I saw him looking at you, so I don’t love bringing him up, but maybe he knows something you don’t and is telling you to take over for that reason.”

  “The way he was looking at me?” I repeat, confused. “Decker? No way. We’re friends.”

  “Maybe he plays that role because you put him there, but I’m telling you right now, if you gave him a chance, he sure as fuck wouldn’t say no,” Trade states, frowning. “And yeah, I don’t love that fact.”

  I arch my brow at him getting jealous. “You have nothing to worry about on that front.” To be fair, I doubt that Decker would say no to any woman. He’s an equal opportunity type of guy, and there’s plenty of him to go around.

  Trade kisses my cheek. “I know, I trust you. And I can’t help it if you’re so beautiful that men will always be drawn to you.”

  “Look who’s talking. You have women throwing themselves at you at work all the time. And don’t try to deny it—Bronte told me. She said it used to happen to Crow, too.”

  He shrugs, playing it off. “Women like trying to get discounts and free shit.”

  “And handsome men.”

  He smiles and continues to massage my neck. “Diesel said there’s been nothing and no one suspicious around your work, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t watching. Do you think this ties in with what Decker told you today?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But I haven’t been looking into anything on that front, so it makes no sense why they would target me. I also know that I can’t just leave it, Trade. Look, this case might not have anything to do with Ariel—maybe it’s just about Taylor. I don’t know. But I’d like to be open-minded and see where it goes without worrying that you are going to be upset with me over it.”

  He stays silent for a few seconds, thinking it over. Eventually he says, “You do what you need to do. Don’t worry about me, just handle it how you normally would. I don’t want to get in the way of your work. I know how important it is to you.”

  “You mean that?” I ask.

  He nods. “Of course. I just have two requests.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be honest with me. Tell me what you can, but please don’t lie or withhold information from me,” he says, and I nod. I think it’s a fair request. “And two, just be careful and if you need help then let me know.”

  “Nothing will happen to me,” I promise him. “I’m too stubborn to die just yet.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” he says, tone serious, and I realize what I just said.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I’m not going anywhere, Trade.”

  I know I can’t promise him that—I mean, no one can—and yet I have. I’ll do all I can in my power to keep that promise.

  We finish up with the movie and then head to bed. It’s my first time sleeping over with the kids here, so we just cuddle all night without having sex, which is really nice, and I don’t feel awkward.

  * * *

  The next morning I’m up early, and Trade is in the shower. I go into the kitchen to make myself a quick coffee before I head home when I see Mila sitting at the table.

  “Good morning,” I say, smiling at how cute she is in her little Barbie pajamas. “Do you want something to eat for breakfast?”

  She grins when she sees me. “Yes, please. Can I have some toast with peanut butter and jelly?”

  “Of course you can.”

  I start making her toast when I hear her ask, “Are you going to be my new mom? Mine went to heaven so now I don’t have one.”

  I still, glancing around for Trade to save me, but he must still be in the shower, enjoying the hot water while I’m getting interrogated by his daughter.

  “Um. I don’t think anyone can replace your mom, sweetie. I can be your friend, though. How about that?” I reply, treading carefully. “And I can always be there for you if you need me.” I mean, one day I could be a mother figure to her, sure, but right now it’s such early days and I don’t think we should jump into that. It should happen naturally, if it happens at all.

  Mila thinks it over and then nods in agreement. “I like having friends. Besides, my mom will always be here, right?” She puts her hand over her heart and pats it like she did the last time we talked about it.

  “Exactly. Now tell me, what was your most favorite food that your mom would make for you?”

  I can tell she’s really considering this by the way she purses her lips, her little brow furrowing. “Ice cream sundaes! She would give me three scoops of ice cream and let me put whatever I wanted on it.”

  I bulge my eyes and give her a huge smile. “Oh my goodness. That is amazing. Three scoops is a big deal. Did you get a stomachache after eating it?”

  She shakes her head with all the seriousness in the world. “No. I ate it all like a big girl and I felt fine.”

  “Mila. What did I tell you about lying?” Trade says with a smile on his face when he comes into the kitchen. “You would only eat half before you got a bellyache. Your mama would have to rub your tummy.”

  “But I’m older now, so I think I’ll be fine next time. Daddy, can w
e make ice cream sundaes like Mommy used to?”

  Trade stops to really look at his daughter. “Yes, princess. It’s been a while since we’ve made those, huh?” he says, kissing the top of her head, then coming over to me and kissing me, too.

  “Yes!” she cheers as she starts eating her toast.

  “I made coffee,” I say, nodding to the coffee machine.

  “Thanks. And thanks for getting Mila her breakfast.”

  “No problem.”

  After Mila heads off to get ready for the morning, I tell him what she said.

  “You handled it well,” he murmurs, kissing me again. “Poor thing. She misses her mom so much, and she’s so little still. And thank you.”

  “You already thanked me,” I laugh.

  “No, I mean thank you for talking to her about Ariel. You’re right. Talking about her is important. Doing things she used to do is important. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

  “We can only do the best that we can and hope that it’s enough,” I say before giving him one last kiss.

  The rest of the kids come out for breakfast, I say good morning and then go back home to shower and get ready before heading off to another day at work.

  Is this going to be my new norm? Helping getting kids ready before work, making sure they are all sorted and good to go?

  I don’t hate it.

  And I know it’s not always going to be easy, joining an already formed family, but I’m willing to try to see if I can find my place in there with them.

  A blended family.

  The thought warms me. I’ve never been a part of a big family, or an overly close one. Even though I had a good childhood, it wasn’t filled with lots of children and giant family gatherings. It was always just me at home, and we stuck to a routine. Marisol was usually the one taking me to any extracurriculars I had, but aside from that I was used to playing by myself and finding my own amusement. My father worked hard and I was often left to my own devices.

  There was no village helping raise me, like I’ve seen with the MC.

  * * *

  Decker is at my office when I get there that morning.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Came for a chat. And I brought you coffee,” he explains, waving the takeaway coffee container like a white flag of peace.

  We both sit down. I grudgingly take the coffee. We argued last time, and I’m still annoyed about it. “Thank you. Now what’s up?”

  “About yesterday,” he explains, taking a sip from his own cup. “I didn’t mean that I was walking away from this case. It just means I need to be smarter about it, because we have no idea what we are walking into.”

  “You were right that I did walk away from this case, because I wasn’t sure if Damon was innocent or not,” I admit. “And it was going nowhere. But you’ve found this new information, which makes me hungrier to find more updates and to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Okay, well, why don’t we see where it leads us then?” he replies, offering me a fist bump. “And if I lose my job because I was supposed to stand down, you can hire me to work here. You know I’ve got your back. Felix called me yesterday asking about it, and told me I better look after you or he’s going to kick my ass.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you’re here?” I smirk, arching my brow.

  “No, I’m here because although I have some concerns, we started this together and we will finish it, all right?”

  I press my knuckles against his and nod. “Okay, count me in.”

  Decker stands up and leaves just as Diesel arrives, and I notice Diesel staring him down. He clearly isn’t a fan of the police.

  “Good morning,” I say, smiling. “How are you today?”

  He arches his brow at me. “Wonderful. I have to be somewhere after lunch today, so one of the twins will be coming in to babysit you.”

  I roll my eyes at the word babysit. “Twins? Cool.” I haven’t met the twins, but I’ve heard about them. Atlas and Aries, their names are. I’ve heard they are a lot more fun than Diesel is, but I guess we will find out later today. “Have you told them how fun this gig is? Nothing has happened and you know that no one needs to be here with me.”

  “Tell that to Trade,” he grumbles, taking a seat and pulling out his phone.

  I ignore him and spend the morning doing some administrative work and replying to emails. I have two calls with lawyers looking for a freelance investigator, which is good, solid income. I’m so glad the business is back on track; I was worried for a while.

  We head out to get some lunch, and when we get back to the office, one of the twins is standing at my door, arms crossed across his chest. He has blond hair, blue eyes and a cheeky grin.

  “Hey,” I say to him. “I’m Nadia.”

  “Atlas,” he replies, offering me his hand. He looks over me to Diesel. “Temper is waiting for you at the clubhouse.” Diesel nods and bails out of there, and Atlas comes inside with me, glancing around my office. “I hear you’ve made some enemies.”

  “Something like that.”

  He grins. “Welcome to the club.”

  Yeah, I like Atlas.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I don’t go to Trade’s that night. I don’t want the kids to think I’m taking up all of his time, and that it’s going to go from me not in the picture to being there constantly. It should be a slow introduction, and I’m happy with that. I’m in no rush, and am happy to go as slowly as needed.

  So I leave Trade to spend some time with them and stay home instead, looking over the case documents for the hundredth time. Bronte calls me and asks what I’m up to.

  “Not a whole lot. Why?”

  “Do you want to come over for dinner? I’m ordering in Chinese.”

  “Hell yeah I do. I’ll be there in twenty.”

  I look down at my track pants, T-shirt and socks and Birkenstocks, and shrug. They have all seen me looking worse.

  When I get to Bronte’s house, Quinn runs up to me and gives me a big hug. “How are you, beautiful girl?” I ask her.

  “Good!” she replies, full of excitement.

  I look at Bronte, who is watching us with a smile. “I swear she gets bigger every time I see her.”

  “Don’t say that,” she replies, sticking her bottom lip out. “I don’t want her to get too big too fast.”

  Crow is sitting on the couch, doing something on his phone, but lifts his head with a smile and a wave. “Hey Nadia. How’s Trade?”

  I roll my eyes. “He’s fine. What are you doing?” I put Quinn down and plop on the couch next to him.

  “I’m checking the security cameras at Divine. There was a big fight there last night and I need to know who we’re banning,” he explains, showing me the screen. “Haven’t seen a fight this big since Orion and his cousin at Kamikaze.”

  “How do you guys remember who is banned? Are there mugshots up somewhere?” I ask. “What if someone just changes their hair and wears colored contacts or something?”

  “We have a wall of fame,” he admits. “And yeah, people try that shit so we need to be onto them.”

  “How’s Diesel been doing?” Bronte asks, parking herself on top of the coffee table.

  “Good. He doesn’t talk much, and when he does it’s in a sarcastic tone, but he’s always alert and keeping an eye on me. Atlas was in for half of today and he brought in lollipops, soda and a board game. I think he definitely wins.”

  Bronte laughs. “Atlas is a crack-up.”

  “He also told me I’m pretty but Temper warned him that I’m Trade’s so not to even bother trying,” I add.

  Crow smirks. “I’ve never met a man who loves women as much as Atlas does, and that’s saying something.”

  “Anyway, nothing has really happened, and there is no reason for them to be there. They are k
ind of growing on me, though.”

  “What else is new?” Bronte asks.

  I tell her about Decker and what he found out about Taylor and Damon.

  “Shit. Now what?” she asks, frowning.

  I shrug. “No idea. I’m not going to overthink it. If a lead comes up, I’ll run with it. If not, then so be it.”

  “You going to be okay if you get dragged right back into the case?” Bronte asks, studying me. “It didn’t go so well the first time.”

  “I know, but I’ve been up-front and honest this time, and he knows how important my work is to me. And now that we’re dating, it makes it even more complicated. I want to find out who did this, for Trade and their kids. And if it wasn’t Damon, then I want to help him get out of prison. The whole situation is just a lot of pressure, and I never feel like I’m getting anywhere with it, you know?” I try to explain to them. “And I’m sure Chains would want to know what really happened with Taylor.”

  This is the first time I’ve admitted any of this out loud, and it’s hard because Bronte is right—it’s usually not in my nature to give up and walk away from a case.

  “She might have killed herself, though,” Crow says, shrugging. “And until it’s proved otherwise, that’s how it’s going to be.”

  “I know.” I pick up my phone as it vibrates with a text from Trade.

  What are you up to? Miss you.

  Miss you too. I’m at Bronte’s for dinner. I smile to myself. I love getting these little messages that let me know that he’s thinking about me.

  We have dinner—I have mine with Quinn sitting on my lap—and then I go home, brush my teeth and jump into bed.

  Trade sends me another message: Goodnight.

  Goodnight, I type back to him.

  Temper dropped in. Btw everyone knows you’re mine now.

  I grin and roll my eyes. I reply, So does this mean that I can call you mine?

  He replies with: Nadia, I’ve been yours since you asked me if I was going to be the Robin to your Batman.