I immediately notice the other men at the table are filling plates for their old ladies, while the old ladies tend to the children. Since there isn’t a chance in hell these men are subservient, I’m assuming it’s another example of how things are done here.
Mica pulls out a chair and says, “Please sit, Nova.” His tone isn’t exactly commanding, but he’s not asking either.
He wanders off to fix my plate without so much as asking what I want. That irritates me a bit, but I tamp it down. Now isn’t the time to make a scene, I tell myself. I fold my hands in my lap and try to stop all the negative thoughts circling in my head about this family. That’s when I notice a small presence at my elbow. When I look down, a little girl is standing beside my chair, staring up at me. She’s maybe seven or eight and has dark hair.
“Mica called you Nova,” she says.
“Yes. That’s my name,” I tell her. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Katie.” She says it with a small lift of her chin.
I smile at her. “Good morning, Katie.”
She asks excitedly, “Are you going to live here with us?”
Shaking my head, I tell her, “I’m afraid not. I have my own house.”
“Well, you’ll have to come visit a lot.”
“I’ll try my best,” I tell her as cheerfully as I can manage.
She gives me a little wave with one hand and scurries away when she sees a large man—who I assume is her father—coming with a pile of bacon. She climbs into the chair beside him and leans against his arm as he hands her a piece of crispy bacon. He then reaches over to feed the woman sitting next to him a piece while she fusses with a baby. There’s something about the simple family scene that squeezes at my heart.
My father died in a shootout with a rival club when I was two years old. I don’t have a single memory of him. Not one. I wish my life could have been different in so many ways.
Mica comes back with a plate piled high with more food than I can possibly eat. But more importantly, it has only things I like.
I glance up at him and watch as he settles down beside me with a plate of his own. “How did you do that?”
“Do what,” he asks, frowning.
“How did you know what food I like?”
He gives me another of those lopsided grins that I’m growing fond of and makes a little circular motion around my plate with his fork from the side. “You ordered breakfast at the restaurant after we left the attorney’s office,” he says. “You moved the eggs to the side without eating them.”
“You notice details, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I notice things,” he says casually, and goes back to his food. To him, it’s not a big deal.
I keep going back and forth about Mica in my mind. He’s logical, reasonable, but also outspoken and a little bossy and demanding. But he’s also nice in his own way. This would be so much easier if he were simply the villain that I need him to be. Unfortunately, life’s always more complicated than we want it to be.
I butter my biscuit and take a nibble off the side as I stare down at my plate, still trying to process everything I’m seeing and hearing. My eyes go to Katie and her family.
“I see you met Katie,” he says.
I nod.
“I’ll introduce you properly to everyone afterwards. That’s my brother Slate, and his old lady, Christina.”
“They look good together. It must be nice for Katie growing up surrounded by all your family,” I say.
“It wasn’t always like that. Katie came to us late. She likes you,” Mica states quietly.
“She doesn’t really know me,” I respond. “Kids are innocent and open minded. They tend to like everyone until you give them a reason not to.”
“I noticed you didn’t,” he tells me, lowering his voice. “I appreciate that more than you know. Katie’s had a rough life. We don’t like to see her feelings get hurt, not when she’s just coming out of her shell and taking to strangers freely.”
My mouth drops open and I hiss, “I would never be rude to a child.” I nervously glance over and just watch the little girl tuck herself against her father’s side.
