28
Logan
Things are feeling a lot more hopeful by the time we reach the pancake house where we’re meeting Damien the next morning. Who knew a hard fingering was all we really needed to break down the wall for good?
Damien’s eyebrow arches when he sees me walk in with Aurora balanced on one hip and Lia crushed to my other side.
“Domestic life suits you,” he mocks when the three of us sit down, and Everest slides into the booth beside him. “Got your kid something,” he adds, tossing a little package on the table.
“She’s nothiskid—ow!”
By now, Lia’s grown used to my pinches, so she bites down on her gasp and instead takes a long swig of the water the server has just set down.
Damien smirks, his eyes following the movement of my hand as I return it to her waist, before he shoves the beribboned package over to Aurora.
“What that?” she questions.
“A present. Haven’t you ever gotten one before?”
His laughing eyes turn serious when he sees Aurora start to play with the wrapped object. “Huh. Guess you haven’t. You’re supposed to take the paper off, kid. The present is underneath.”
Aurora claps her hands in excitement when I tear off the wrapping paper, revealing a set of wooden animals.
“You’re gonna have to step up your game, man,” yawns Damien, settling back on his bench. “Imagine being two years old and not knowing what a present is.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the now-familiar look of guilt surge in Lia’s eyes, and they make me resent Damien’s words.
“I managed to survive my entire life without getting one, so I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I grumble.
But Lia’s guilt only increases.
“You’ve never had a present?” she asks incredulously.
“And I’ve survived just fine. See?”
“Four cups of coffee,” says Damien as the server comes near, “and milk and pancakes for the kid. Well, you know,” he continues, turning back to us, “Father’s Day is coming up…”
I glare at him, before adding to the server, “And for the other kid, too.”
“The other kid?” questions the server politely, looking around the table.
“I’mnota kid,” huffs out Lia, sounding exactly like one. “And I’m not hungry anyway!”
“Two plates of pancakes,” concludes Damien, waving him away. Then he leans in to us. “Okay, let’s cut the bullshit. There’s a plane leaving in an hour, and you’re going to be on it.”
“Do you have the tickets?” I ask.
“No tickets. A private plane.”
“You got us a private plane,” I echo. “How the hell did you do that? I know you’re in good with the family, Damien, but you’re not a made man. None of us are, and most of those assholes still see us as kids. So what the fuck—”
“Never heard anyone complain so much about getting their ass saved,” grumbles Damien.
“You’re my best friend,” I hiss. “Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”
His mocking expression makes me redden. “Okay, fine. I haven’t exactly been forthcoming this past month,” I admit. “But you’ve clearly been keeping something to yourself since high school, because fifteen-year-olds don’t just become best friends with the don’s son overnight. Especially when there’s not a drop of Italian blood in them!”
“I may be in good with the family, as you say,” says Damien breezily, adroitly switching the subject, “but that doesn’t mean I’m planning to stick around. Ah, pancakes.”
