“She seems nice. Who’s Mama?” Hope asks.
“An old friend.”
That’s it as far as I’m concerned until after this conversation is done. After that, who knows what will happen. Maybe she’ll meet her one day, eat some cannoli. Perhaps the kid will, too.
The goddamn climb seems endless as we ascend, and I stare at her in the reflecting mirrors, still unable to find the words I’m gonna need when I get up there. They’re not that hard really. Just three of them, two if we bring apostrophes into the fucking equation. Jesus. Why is she still so goddamn pretty, after all this shit we’ve been through? Visions of her bleeding out haunt my mind as I stare at her now glowing skin, wondering where I’d be now if Daniel hadn’t saved her life. The thought makes a shiver ride my skin, anger filtering through my confusion.
Eventually, the doors open and we exit into the lobby, her heels clipping along the marble as we go. My hands open the door for her, nodding for her to lead, and then I head back to get some of the coffee laid out. My eyes watch her as she wanders around the edges, peering over at Manhattan. I’m not sure why I’ve brought her up here for this. Perhaps it’s the cold air that’ll be whipping around our heads this high up. Cold. That’s what we both are. Me through family upbringing, her the same for different reasons. She crosses her arms, raising her chin at the world, and braces against the wind. She’s good at that—bracing against shit. She’s done it all her life, taken what was given and braced the storm, changing her direction as she climbed the ladder.
A ladder that eventually led her to me.
I clip the tops on the takeout cups and walk on out to join her after a moment of thought, handing her a coffee. “You cold?” I ask.
She turns her head and shakes it. I snort and think maybe it’s the ice in our veins keeping us at the same temperature as the weather. Fuck knows, but it’s been two weeks, and I need to tell her. She deserves that. She’s rested well enough now, almost healed. Daniel said she was around seven weeks gone. That’s now nine weeks and she’s gonna be due a scan soon. He also asked her about contraception, told her to not have the next injection until the wound had closed over properly, something about it interfering with her ability to heal. It wouldn’t, but I needed a reason to get her off them.
“Why are we up here?” she asks, scanning the buildings around us. “Last time I was on top of the Empire State Building it was because you needed me to persuade a governor into bed. More coercion?” She glances back at me. “I’m not doing it again, Benjamin.” She’s done a lot of stuff like that for me over the years, done whatever I said, with whomever I commanded. No argument. No discussion. It’s not been easy living with me, never has been. She’s done it, though. And she’s damn right she’s not doing it again.
“How’s Quinn?”
Her eyes narrow. It’s slight, but it’s there. She’s still my good girl, but now running her own odds against what’s useful to her. They’ve been meeting up, discussing who they are and what they want from their newfound family connection.
“He’s…” She pauses and sighs, head still not straight about how she feels about anything. “Gone back to Chicago. They all have.” I nod and walk closer to her, building some goddamn fortitude to get these words out of my mouth. “He sends his regards. Says he’ll be in touch.” He already has. This morning in fact. Tying up loose ends, and then having the fucking gall to tell me if I touched her with anything other than respect, he’d kill me.
I laughed. He didn’t.
That threat came straight across the fucking line at me.
“That’s decaf,” I say, pointing at her coffee.
She looks back, surprised, and then chuckles to herself about something and leans on the railings. “You’re worried about me? Of all the things, you choose how much caffeine I drink?” She turns away, shaking her head.
The sting of her words hurts more than I want to admit. I frown and lean on the rails next to her. Maybe I don’t show her enough. I guess I should because if she doesn’t know by now, after the shit I’ve forgiven her for, then I’m doing something wrong. That’s not going to work if she decides to stay after this information. I, we, need more than that. I wouldn’t blame her if she left. What life have I got to offer children? She could go to the beach house. I already give her an allowance and she wants for nothing. That’s never going to change, even when I’m dead. For once, I’m not telling her what to do. The reason she got involved with me was because of Cane, but that doesn’t change the fact that’s she’s still with me. What she wanted might have changed along the way, but she’s managed to stay alive through all the carnage. All of us have.
Including that child of mine she’s carrying.
“I’m worried about your stomach.” She dismisses the comment with a shake of her head and sighs out a long breath, sipping her coffee.
“It’s fine. Daniel says it’s knitted well, almost healed. Called me a lucky girl.”
The fuck is wrong with me? I can’t get a few simple words out of my mouth? “You think I’m lucky?” she asks, frowning and looking me over. She reaches for my tie to straighten it. “I thought I was, but who knows now.” She’s got a wistful look about her and tears in her eyes. “It’s okay, Benjamin.”
The hell?
She puts her hand on my chest, patting it and smiling, then turns to the view to close herself down again. “Perhaps it’s all just been too much. I get it. I’m not the person you thought I was. What I was for you doesn’t fit into our world anymore. Everything’s different.”
She’s damn right it is. I suddenly have Cane as family for a start. Because of her. That’s a bond I never thought I’d have to deal with.
“And it can’t go back to the way it was before. I’m not the same woman I was. I can’t be anymore.”
She’s damn right about that, too.
“I’m worried about what’s in your stomach, Hope.”
Her head tilts to me, confusion all over her face. “You’ve said that.” I back away a step or two, then move forward again. I’m like a fucking child. Being a pussy. I drink some coffee, wishing it were goddamn scotch. “The bullet’s gone. Daniel said so.”
I look at the floor, watching my shoes for some reason. “Yeah.”
She looks me over, chuckling about something. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting more weird than when you tried romance.”
