She lay back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling as tears spilled over her temples. She was killing me. My strong,confident woman was crying alone in the dark, and I didn’t even know why.
“Talk to me, Caity,” I said again, hoping somehow she would hear me.
“We fucked up, Ci,” her quiet voice spoke in the darkness as if she heard my plea. “One magical night and I fucked up my whole damn life, and our daughter’s.”
My heart broke listening to Caity.
“We didn’t fuck anything up, baby,” I whispered at the screen. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but she didn’t know I could hear her. “Without that night, we wouldn’t have Maddie, and without Maddie, we wouldn’t have Henry.”
Except we didn’t have Henry. That Russian asshole had my grandson.
“We’ll get him back, baby. We’ll be a family one day, Caity. You can count on that.”
Caity reached over and turned off the light next to her bed. The camera switched to infrared, and I watched her toss and turn until she finally fell asleep. Her breath evened out, and I stared at the beautiful woman who had made me a father almost thirty years ago.
We couldn’t have more babies, not at our age. But we could still be a family.
I stepped off the train into Grand Central Station. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming into the city. I didn’t need to see the disapproving looks from my friends. Nor hear the lecture Mac would give me about letting things be.
I couldn’t let this shit be. I had a grandson. One I’d never met or even seen. When we learned about Henry, I was angry.At Maddie, at her fucking husband. It didn’t matter that he was dead. He’d failed her and her son.
When I found out Maddie was my daughter, weeks had gone by before I realized what that meant. Henry was my grandson. He had my blood, my DNA. He was part of my family.
And I wanted him back.
His mother should be raising him, not his fucking aunt, who had her own son. I had talked to Maddie at length about Henry, and why she’d done what she did. It didn’t make sense. If she’d only come to us, we would have protected her. I would have fucking protected her.
I cut through the crowded station out onto the street and walked toward Central Park. I stopped and bought a coffee; tasting nothing as I sipped it, my focus solely on my grandson.
Maddie had been here almost daily, watching him grow. She’d missed out on so much of his life already. For what reason? Why didn’t her son-of-a-bitch husband protect them?
The Valentinettis were feared in Chicago. Yet Salvatore never told his family about his son until he was four or five years old. Why? What was he hiding Henry from?
I entered the park and walked along the sidewalk until I reached the playground. I sat on a bench far enough away as not to draw attention, but close enough to see Henry.
I watched as a young boy ran after a smaller one. When he reached the little boy, he grabbed him up in his arms and swung him around, the two of them laughing.
The smaller boy, Maximiliano, was the image of his father. The older boy was Henry. My grandson. His hair was dark like his father’s, and I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but I saw my daughter in him. The way he walked, the way he laughed.
Everything about him reminded me of Maddie when she was his age. I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my thighs as I held my head in my hands.
All these years we had missed out on. So many of Maddie’s firsts. Her first words, first steps. I wasn’t there for them. But her first day of school had been a big production. Her first school play, when all she played was a tree who danced in the background, yet it felt like I was watching her on Broadway.
Her first boyfriend. When Maddie was thirteen years old, Sal found out Maddie had adate,and he, Mac, Duncan and I followed them to the movies. We sat in the back row and watched as the little shit put his arm around my daughter’s shoulders.
Maddie hadn’t had any of those firsts with Henry, and if I didn’t do something, she would never have any others either.
I felt the bench sag as someone sat down beside me. Looking up, I took one more look at my grandson before looking to my right and finding Callum Malone.
“What are you doing here, Cian?”
I looked back over at my grandson, noticing the Russian fucker watching me. It wasn’t Maxim, but one of his men. I couldn’t think of his name, but he was the younger one in Maxim’s inner circle. Men who together escaped Russia during the Russian Blood War, also known as the Bloody Massacre.
There were six of them. Brothers by choice. Like me, Mac, Duncan, and Sal.
“He’s my grandson, Callum.”
“You can’t just pop into the city like this, Cian. You should have called, and I would have made a way.”
