I kiss her again. She opens her mouth, claims my tongue with hers, lighting my body up with every hungry movement.
Then she pushes away for real, looking around. People are watching us, staring with jealousy at our obvious, undeniable connection.
“I need time,” she says. “Let go. Please.”
It takes every shred of decency left in me to release her, let her go.
“I want to see my son again,” I say.
She chews her lip and sighs. “I need to think about that for obvious reasons.”
“For obvious?—”
“The lies. The mob stuff. The fact you’ve just waltzed into my life and turned everything upside down,” she whispers, then yells.
She turns and walks away. I sit down, breathless.
I just bared my soul to a civilian, a stranger, but I don’t regret it. She’s the mother of my child and the only woman who’s ever made my heart pound like this.
CHAPTER 9
AVA
Dad seems younger since Theo came along. He’s sixty-two, but he seems half that, his face breaking into a young man’s smile every time he sees his grandson. Now, he bounces Theo up and down on his knee lightly, face filled with joy.
Mom hands me a cup of coffee as we sit on the back porch. It’s been a day since the – stand-off, electricity, thesomething– in the café, and Rafe has given me time to think about everything. Not that it’s helped too much.
“Do you believe him?” Mom asks, running a hand through her unruly hair.
Okay, so here’s the situation…
I’ve lied to my parents on behalf of my son’s mob-boss father. I told them that Rafe said he hired a PI who, to shortcut the work, lied to Rafe and said I was dead. I’ve told them he’s an art collector. There’s so much already to wrestle with, without heaping the total mess onto their heads.
“I think I do,” I murmur.
That’s the truth, at least as much as I can say.
Yesterday, in the café – my body still tingled long after he patted me down – I felt certain he was being honest with me. Pulling a hidden truth from deep in his soul and sharing something he’s never shared before.
“A child needs his father,” Dad mutters.
Theo croons and reaches up. Dad chuckles and lowers his head, letting Theo run his hand over his bald head.
“Make a wish, kiddo,” Dad says.
“I don’t want him to think he can pick us up and drop us anytime he wants,” I say.
“Absolutely not,” Mom agrees.
“Maybe I should see if he’d be willing to meet with you two here,” I murmur.
“If he’s not, then he’s not worth the trouble,” Mom says bitingly.
I pull out my phone, biting my lip. I’ve got a text from Adrian about one of the pieces we’ve purchased. Ever since the auction, Adrian has seemed… off. Nothing specific, but his energy is different, as though he’s annoyed at the father of my child being back in my life.
Or maybe that’s projection. It’s not like my personal drama is the center of his universe.
“I’ll call him,” I say, after replying to Adrian’s text.
