It was my turn to smirk. “That, Currau, is what we call checkmate.”
SIX
STAN
A MONTH LATER
Playlist recommendation:
Bleeding Out - Chance Peña
“You’re crazy.”
I studied my sister-in-law in the elevator’s mirror. “I know I am, Jen.”
Crazy for angels that made me lose my mind and reason and?—
My sister-in-law stacked her hands on her hips. “If Luc had any idea I brought you here, Stan, he’d?—”
I didn’t let her finish the sentence. “My darlingfratewon’t find out from me. Anyway, we’re related now. It’s not that strange for a Sicilian to be on Irish turf.”
“Why couldn’t you go to Hunter about this? He’d help?—”
“Because he’s Sicilian too. I.e., overly emotional. Unlike your New Yorker-self, who is infinitely pragmatic.”
Her nose wrinkled. “You had a heart attack sixweeks ago!”
“That hasn’t stopped Luc from piling on the work. Anyway, I’m fine.”
I’d gone through recovery and everything. Six fucking weeks of doctor’s appointments and physio.
Six weeks of pushing myself to the limit. Of obsessing over a vision.
An entity.
My dream girl.
The doctor had signed off on me today. That crap was in the past and I could finally get my answers.
She heaved a sigh. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”
“Maybe I’d have less to do if he’d calm the fuck down.”
Sympathy had her pulling a face. “Just don’t leave the building without me. The last thing I need is you getting shot.”
“Do you know how high my IQ is, Jennifer?”
“Yes, Einstein. I’m sure the great man himself overdosed on his own drug.”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“No. You’re not.”
“I’ve followed every measure the doctors asked of me.”
“I should hope so! But you’re not eating enough and you’ve been acting weird since you got out of the hospital—” She didn’t have time to further berate me because the elevator doors opened to reveal a very perplexed Conor O’Donnelly surrounded by cats and dogs like a billionaire Dr. Doolittle.
“Jen?” he greeted, wary eyes scanning me. “Custanzu.”
