Tomás chuckles. “There’s nothing straightforward about you, brother.”
“I’m glad you're back in the land of the living, Tommy. You scared the shit out of us. Please plan a fancy wedding, so Mama can get off my back about the lack of invitations to mine.”
“You broke her heart.”
“Christ,” I groan. “It wasn’t planned.”
“I’m going to ask Shane to be my best man.”
“Fucking charming.”
“At least you’ll get an invitation to mine, and a plus one.”
“Sinéad is more than a plus one, cabron.”
“Good.” His playfulness turns serious. “I hope you make it work.”
“Say hi to my favorite sister-in-law. We had a good time together in Mexico.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you too.”
I hang up and pocket the phone in my leather jacket. Letterman fists the door for entry.
“Everything okay at home?” I glance over my shoulder to find Reno.
“Yeah, India and Sinéad are watching a movie together.”
It’s been a few days since she’d bled in my bathroom. The significance of that deep-red blood went beyond words. After fucking me for the purpose of impregnation, it failed. I can’t say I was happy about it. In fact, I’d go as far as saying I was miffed. A weird-as-fuck sensation for a live wire like me. A betting man would have set the odds in favor of my bachelor ways until my last breath. I guess Sinéad makes me want to be a better man for her.
One thing is certain; I’d give my children a better life than Papá ever gave my brothers and me. I’d be a real father.
Now my wife and I have a clean slate. A chance to figure out this thing called love taking over me.
The fact my head hasn’t been turned by another female isn’t just a freak exception—it’s an anomaly.
A chunky doorman, stuffed into a slim fit waistcoat and shirt, respectfully nods before he ushers us inside. Dance beats bounce off the low ceilings and a sultry heat clings to my skin. The sweaty crowd parts to give us clear passage to the cordoned-off VIP section, where a soft blue rope separates us from them.
Two guards move like opening doors, allowing us access to the seated area where the decibels decrease to a comfortable volume. A young waitress closes in, her false lashes too long for her doll-like face. But her tits, fuck, they’re perky and bouncy, as if she’s not wearing a bra. I respect them from afar, oddly deciding they aren’t the right size for me, nor is she in the same league as the woman I’ve left at home.
“What can I get you to drink, sir?” She smiles timidly.
I light up a cigarette and stare out at the women gathering around the entrance like vultures.
“Beluga Vodka and whatever my friends are having.” I wave my hand in Letterman’s direction and feel an overwhelming desire to see Sinéad’s face.
For the past couple of nights, I worked in my home office while she sat on the couch eating salty popcorn and reading one of India’s fiction books. She had curled up with the hot water bottle I bought for her tummy cramps, looking over at me every now and again, catching me spying on her. I even agreed to narrate a chapter of the book while we lay in bed later in the night.
It was all new to me.
How she’d taken ownership of the empty half of my bed and changed the scent of my pillows to the aroma of Sin. Or when I brush my teeth and notice her toothbrush hangs in the allocated spot next to mine, and the brush she uses to untangle her hair takes up space next to my comb.
“I have a guy on standby to drive us home.” Letterman sinks down beside me on the semicircular velvet bench seat. “We can swing by tomorrow and pick up the bikes.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Is everything okay with Tommy?”
I nod. “He’s happy for the first time in forever. I can hear it in his voice.” The cold gold of my wedding band skims my nose when I drag a hand over my face. “I just hope nothing fucks it up for him.”
The dark undertone of my comment doesn't require a response. In this life, nothing is guaranteed.
