“And if she wants to name itLevi?” Cairo grinds out. “You good with that? Because I could see it happening. Especially since you’re in the running as being the baby daddy.”
Torin’s jaw tics, but he doesn’t back down an inch. “Whatever the fuck she wants.”
Huh.
That’s cool.
I’m still out, though.
“She’s said this to you?” Lorenzo chimes in. “She wants to abort the child?”
Cairo bows his head and nods. “Not officially. Torin’s right, she’s afraid. Too much shit has happened, and she’s reacting instead of thinking.”
“Who’s the father?” He ping-pongs his focus around all of us, even Ozzy—which is almost laughable—but none of us answer. “So, it’s like that.”
“It’s like that,” Torin confirms. “She’s all of ours.”
“She’s married to Ozzy.”
My whole body tenses that someoneelsesaid those words instead of me thinking it.
“So?”
Cairo’s father sighs. “You’re all lucky Roger isn’t around, or he’d kill you all.” He looks over at Ozzy. “Any word on the fifth seat?” He shakes his head. “Continue your search.” His attention descends on me. “And go see your father. Then you’re checking yourself into a rehab facility.”
I don’t bother to put any steel in my tone when I respond with, “I’m not going into a rehab facility.”
“Wanna bet?” Cairo challenges, stepping up a bit to, I don’t know, intimidate me. “We can’t be worrying about you and everything else that’s been mentioned.”
I lift my shoulders. “Then let me leave. I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”
“Don’t be a whiny bitch,” Torin professes smoothly, glancing down at his watch. “You’re embarrassing with it.”
“Says the bitch who almost drowned her.” Then I sign with my fingers like an asshole, “Looks like Karma took out the wrong guy.”
Torin smirks at me, clearly not giving a shit. “Oops.”
Lorenzo sighs heavily, clearly exasperated with us acting like petulant children. “Are you boys going to be able to handle this, or do I need to?—”
“We got it,” Cairo puts forth, but he doesn’t sound too confident about it. “Torin will do his thing, Reeve will either go to rehab, or we’ll lock him in his room, and Ozzy will keep searching for the fifth seat.”
“And you?” I inquire mockingly. “What willyoube doing?”
His nearly black eyes flick over to me. “Securing an alliance with the new Queen of South Shore.”
“Wonderful,” I deadpan, rubbing my fingers together because my skin is beginning to fucking itch.
Maybe I do need rehab.
But sitting here and talking about it, about why and how with a bunch of strangers, while being monitored? I’m good.
I’ve gotten fucked up before.
I chose to keep doing it.
I’ll get over it, eventually. I just need to find something or someone else to occupy my time.
Like Dad.
