“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what, dear?”
“This.” I barely speak the word. I don’t know how you can be married to the mob. I can’t just come out and say that, but after a short moment she seems to understand.
“Some days, I don’t either. But I love my family. We’re all good people.” I stare at her as she takes another bite of shrimp. Are they? I highly doubt it, but then again I know nothing about it. I chance a question.
“What do they do?” I ask her with a low voice. The men continue their conversation, and a bellow of laughs surrounds me.
“What do you mean?” She tilts her head in confusion.
“I mean, like, what is it that they do?”
Her eyes widen, and her eyebrows raise. “Well, now. I don’t ask those kinds of questions, and neither should you. But, I do happen to know that the bistro pulls in a hefty amount of money.” I stare at her, considering her words. She can’t possibly believe that owning the bistro is all they do. Drugs and guns and murder. That’s what the mob does.
“When you love someone, it’s amazing what you’d do for them.” She gives me a warm smile and says, “One day I’ll have to tell you how Dante and I met. I’m sure you haven’t heard a story like ours before.” Her blue eyes twinkle with happiness. “I love my family.”
I consider her words. There’s no doubt she does. There’s obvious warmth and love in the room. But I could never raise my son like this. I feel like an asshole for judging her. And a hypocrite for fucking Dom and feeling so much for him so quickly. But this could never be my reality. Jax deserves a better chance at life. A good life. Not a life in the mob. This is temporary. I have to make sure this doesn’t last.
Dom
I thought things were going well. And then she started talking to Ma. Her little boy is in the back, so I’m not going to question her on the drive back to my house, but as soon as we get alone, I wanna know what’s gotten into her head.
She looks so beautiful, leaning her head against the car door, sleeping. So peaceful. Peaceful is the right word. She’s got faint wrinkles around her eyes, and I know it’s from her stressing out. She’s a type A personality without a doubt. I am too, but I don’t let it run me into the ground like she does.
But then again, I didn’t have the shitty luck she’s been having. It’s hard to believe a man would cheat on her. If I had to guess why, my guess would be money. His business had just failed. That, and she was making more than him. Maybe he felt emasculated. I don’t know, and I don’t really give a shit why. He was a fucking idiot for cheating on her. And for leaving her.
I turn the wheel up the drive and park in the garage as usual. It feels different though. I take a peek over my shoulder, and her little boy is passed out just like her. I don’t want to wake either of them, so I silently slip out of my seat and gently close the door. I go around to Jax’s door and carefully pull him out, letting his head rest on my shoulder. It’s odd carrying a sleeping child. He’s light and limp. Probably drooling on my shirt. I stifle my chuckle and carry him into the house.
I have a guest room upstairs that’ll be perfect for him. It’s right next door to my room, so I’m sure we’ll hear him if he wakes up. I lay him down nice and gentle, and hold my breath while he readjusts and snuggles into the mattress. I really don’t need this kid waking up and freaking out.
I turn around, and Becca nearly scares the shit out of me. My heart tries to jump up my fucking throat, and my blood shoots up with adrenaline. She’s standing there, rubbing her eyes in the doorway. I’m happy she has them closed too, because my first instinct was to reach for my gun. I tuck it back into the holster and casually walk toward her like she didn’t almost give me a heart attack.
“Bedtime, doll.” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her out of the room, but she resists me. I look down at her wide, frightened eyes with a confused look.
“I don’t want to leave him alone.” Oh, fuck that. She’s sleeping with me. He sleeps alone at her place; he’ll be fine here.
“He’s already passed out, doll.” I tug on her waist again. She takes a look at him and then back to me before pulling away from me. She strolls over to him, and I wait in the doorway. I hold back on everything until I know for sure what she’s doing.
She leans over him and pets his hair before giving him a small kiss on the forehead. “Good night, my baby boy; I love you.” I just barely hear her.
She rises slowly, not taking her eyes off of him before coming back to my side. “Good girl.”
As soon as we get to the bedroom, she looks around like she’s lost. Like she’s a nervous virgin. I like that she’s a bit frightened. I like that I can take her control away. She’ll learn to love it. I’ll show her how good it can be when someone else is in charge.
I stroll to my dresser and grab a white tee shirt for her to wear for the night. I should go downstairs and grab all her shit. But I don’t feel like it, and she’ll look good in my shirt anyway. It’s that, or she can go naked. I’m fine either way. When I look up to toss her the shirt, she’s standing by the nightstand, digging through her purse.
“Whatcha looking for, doll?” I ask, walking up behind her.
“My pills.” Her answer makes my body go cold. I don’t like that she takes medication. I understand she’s wound tight and going through some shit, but I don’t like it. She grabs a bottle and pops the lid.
“Which one is that?” It wasn’t my business before, but now she’s in my care, so I want to know everything.
“Codeine,” she says while palming a single pill.
Shit, I feel like an asshole for thinking like that. Like she shouldn’t be taking medicine. Given what she’s been through, it’s amazing she’s doing everything that she is.
“I’ll get you a glass of water, babe.” I jog down the stairs so I can get back to her quickly. Guilt weighs down on my shoulders. She wouldn’t be in pain if it wasn’t for me.
When I get back to her she’s sitting on the bed, looking down at her bare feet and wearing the shirt I gave her. She has a sad look on her face. I can’t even begin to guess what’s causing it. There’s so much shit she has to deal with.
She takes the glass with a grateful smile and quickly swallows the pain meds.
I sit on the bed next to her and take a deep breath. I’ve been holding off on talking. It’s what we do in the family. You don’t talk about shit. It’s done and over with, and you move on. And we sure as shit don’t discuss any business in front of women. But this is different. She’s involved. She’s hurt. I need to understand what’s going on in her head in order to help her.
“Tell me what hurts, doll?” I start with an easy question.
She gives me a weak smile and says, “I’m f-” She stops her word and bites her bottom lip while smiling.
“You think that’s funny?” I shake my head. It’s a little funny that she always says she’s fine, but not really. 'Cause she’s not fine.
“I’m alright, Dom.” I turn my body toward her and run my finger over the small bruise showing through her makeup.