“You did this.” Luca saddles up next to me.
“I wonder if Thomas would be offended to get a used Christmas gift?” Weeks asks before tossing the doll toward Luca. It falls to the floor at our feet.
“Put a maid's outfit on it first, then you’re golden.” I cackle, and the garage erupts in belly laughs.
I leave the guys and Dolly to check on dinner, smiling my way inside. Maybe this won’t be too weird.
With the dinner table set, I open the garage door and am met with mummers when Luca and Weeks both turn to me, Luca pocketing his phone as his face conveys what his mouth doesn’t. Something is up.
My eyes bounce between them before creasing my eyebrows. I say nothing about it. “Come and eat.” I leave them both to follow.
Weeks is constantly messing with his phone, and I watch the eye contact between him and Luca keep giving each other. There are untold words being said.
“So, Weeks, how’s Gabriela?” I ask, needing to fix the awkwardness at the table.
His face lights up when I speak her name.
“She’s doing so well. I can’t wait to bring my girl home. It’s been a long time coming.”
His daughter is five. That’s about all I know about her.
“Is she with your family right now?”
He takes a bite of his roast, speaking around his mouthful. “No, she’s staying with family friends of mine, where I know she’s completely safe.” There is more intended behind those words.
I want to ask more, but Luca looks at me and gently shakes his head.
Quietness is okay, but not when there are three people at the table.
“Weeks?” He looks at me, eyebrows raised.
“Why do they call you Weeks?” I’ve been curious about his nickname since I found out about him. It’s one I’ve never heard before him.
He laughs, a full belly laugh, which makes Luca chuckle. And I’m sitting at the table, moving my food around, waiting to be in on the joke.
Weeks places his fork down. “You know Niko?” I give him a fucking of course look. He’s insane. My mind flashes back to the crematorium where I watched him and Catherine… My cheeks feel hot.
Clearing my throat, I say, “How couldn’t I?”
“I was a badass kid, didn’t listen to shit, ran with the wrong crowd, was initiated into a gang when I was twelve.”
Holy shit, my eyes widen.
“Yeah,” he nods his head, “a fucking baby. In the few years I was with my gang, I was shot at, stabbed, and jumped too many times to count. My grandmother, Gabriela.” He smiles when he says her name, now knowing where his daughter's namesake came from. “Was best friends with Matteo and Niko. She had had enough, and I didn’t blame her. She sent me to the funeral home to live with them, away from my gang and the only people I thought cared about me.” He lets out a grunted laugh before he picks up his beer, taking a huge gulp. “My name is CarlosDiaz, but when I met Niko, he looked me up and down, his face anything but friendly, and said,‘You have weeks, if that.’”
I raise my forehead, confused.
“He was going to kill me. Niko doesn’t like what’s his breached upon, and I was breaching. I was this bullheaded young gang member, and he saw right through me. Anytime he referred to me, it was Weeks…which Matteo started parroting as well. But,” Weeks leans back in the dining room chair, “I lasted more than weeks. And not for Niko’s lack of effort. That motherfucker is insane, certifiable. I fucked up and raised my voice to his grandmother. Before I knew it, I was knocked out and woke up in the cremation chamber.”
“Oh fuck. Damn, he likes that thing,” I tell him and Luca, who laugh at my comment and my face of horror.
“That was the night I was scared straight. Those two, especially Niko, are the reason I’m the man I am today. Matteo helped me find employment, becoming security for the queen of the mob. But now, here I am.” He slams the rest of his beer. “On that note, I need to call Gabriela’s Godmother. Thank you for dinner, Rowan.”
“You’re very welcome.” Luca and I watch Weeks exit the front door. “Carlos. I can’t call him Carlos; he’s Weeks.” I laugh.
Getting a bit more information about who Weeks is makes me like him even more. I enjoy learning about these men, who are now my family. Even if it’s sprinkled a little at a time, that means they trust me, as I trust them.
Chapter Sixteen
