“You need to talk to him.”
“And say what?” she asks, exasperated. “Why did you, my husband, take me against my will?”
I notice she refuses to use that word. “He looks like a broken man, Rose.” I have to point that out, at least. My loyalty lies with Rose, of course, but I feel like I would be doing myself and Rose an injustice if I don’t raise the obvious, because perhaps during her trauma she’s forgotten who she’s married to. The Danny Black I know would kill anyone who laid a hand on his wife with her permission. Without? It would be slow, messy, and painful. I look back to the garden. I know how he’ll be feeling right now. I need to tell James to watch him. “Do you want me to talk to him?” I ask, claiming the bandage and starting to wrap her up.
“No.” She snivels and wipes at her nose roughly. “Please don’t tell him I’ve told you.”
I smile mildly, fastening the end of her bandage and going to the stove. “I won’t.” She doesn’t want me to think bad of him. She doesn’t want Danny to feel any worse than he already does, if that’s possible. I don’t think it is.
I take one of the pappadams and drop it into the pan, making the oil sizzle once again, the circle expanding rapidly. “Do you want some wine?” she asks.
“No, thanks.” I grab some grippers and lift it out, dropping it onto a paper towel to soak up the oil before slipping another into the pan. “You need to wash your face before we go back outside.” Who the fuck am I kidding? Nothing goes unnoticed in this group.
Rose goes into her purse on the island and pulls out a little mirror, inspecting herself in it. She studies herself for a while, whilst I watch in between frying. Then she sighs and drops the mirror, looking at me. “It never ends, does it?”
No, it doesn’t. As long as we’re in this world, extreme stress and helplessness will always feature. “We both knew deep down that eliminating The Bear wouldn’t mean they’re out.” I spoon another pappadam onto the paper towel. “There will always be men out there wanting to be kingpin, and our men have massive bounties on their heads.” I’m telling her what she already knows but finds hard to accept. I do too, some days more than others. But when Rose waivers, I have to pick her up. She does the same for me. So long as one of us is strong on any given day, we’ll always be okay. “I just spoke to my dad,” I say, willing to go there to take Rose’s mind off her current anguish. “He’s running for mayor.” I peek up from the frying pan. She looks like a fish. “Exactly. And he’s dating someone.”
“Jesus, is she out of college?”
“I didn’t ask. I honestly don’t want to know.”
“Mayor?” Her cheeks blow out. “Well, he has the ego, I suppose.”
I hum to myself. “Where’s Daniel?” I ask. I’m done with daddy talk. I’m struggling to get my head around how I can feel sorry for someone but at the same time resent them.
“He made a friend,” Rose says, loading the chutneys onto a tray. “Barney Benson.”
“Cute name.”
“His dad’s a private banker. Lennox Benson. He’s taken the boys out on his private yacht this afternoon.”
“With the twins?” I ask over a laugh.
“With the twins,” Rose confirms, as if I needed it. Daniel can’t even go for a swim in the private pool without Tank and/or Fury following him on an inflatable. “He’s single.”
I frown at the frying pan. “Who is?”
“The banker,” she says quietly. “Lennox Benson.”
I stop poking at the pappadam, looking at my friend with a curious eye as she feigns concentrating on stirring the lime pickle. “And you’re pregnant,” I say quietly. “And married to one of the deadliest men alive.”
She peeks up at me on a straight face. “I know.”
This is not good. I wouldn’t say many relationships are healthy, but I bet there aren’t many as toxic as Danny and Rose’s. Or, oddly, as passionate and full of love. “I know you want to hurt him right now, Rose,” I say quietly, worried, because if Rose breaks out the big guns—namely her flirting—to kick Danny in the balls, Daniel’s new friend is going to be an orphan very soon.
“I’m just saying,” she muses, lifting the tray, “he’s single.” And with that, she pivots and leaves. “Nice ring, by the way.”
“I still said no,” I call, rushing to finish the pappadams, wanting to get back outside before Danny kills Rose or vice versa.
I meet James at the threshold, and he takes the tray from me. “What’s she done to her hand?”
“Small accident with the frying pan.”
“Right. What’s going on?” he asks, circling his spare arm around me and walking me back to the table.
“Lover’s quarrel. Something and nothing.” I take no pleasure from lying to James, none at all. In fact, I feel guilty, but Danny will be mortified enough, without any of the men knowing what’s happened. Not even the not so small matter of James deceiving me about killing my uncle’s husband eases my conscience.
“Sure,” he says over a laugh. “They look more in love than ever.”
“It’s pregnancy hormones.”
“Can’t wait,” he whispers, squeezing me before setting the plate on the table and pulling out a chair for me. Was that sarcasm? I honestly don’t know. I give him a curious look that he completely ignores. He’s expressed his reservations, but he’s also not pushed for any birth control. He’s also not pulled out of me before he’s come. It may not matter, because I might not even be able to carry anymore. Broken. I wince that thought away, as well as the fact that I’m due on my period tomorrow, and I look down at the ring that’s on the wrong finger. Or is it the right finger?
What about the marriage part? Are we skipping that bit?
“Can’t wait for what?” Brad asks, and I shake my head. “Wine?” he goes on, filling up my glass and pushing it toward me, his eyebrows high. “Or am I quitting mafia life?”
I feel James’s curious eyes on me, as Brad looks between us. Broken. “Not just yet,” I say, taking the glass and having a long swig, feeling James’s stare rooted to my profile.
I swallow down the liquid and . . . it burns. It burns so much. Tomorrow.
“Oh good. One psycho pregnant woman in the family at a time, please.” Brad looks at Rose. She’s distracting herself from having to face her husband by serving up dinner for everyone.
“It’s goat,” she says, finishing and lowering to her chair at the opposite end of the table to Danny. “Enjoy.”
“What happened to your hand?” he growls, prompting everyone to look at the bandage.
“I wasn’t concentrating in the kitchen.” Rose reaches for the wine before her, and I still, but Esther swoops in, predicting her daughter-in-law’s reckless intention and removes the temptation before Danny, who’s twitching at the other end of the table, finally explodes.
“Excuse me?” James says, his hand landing on my knee and squeezing. “Did you change your mind about something pretty fucking monumental and not bother telling me?”