“Oh, sweetheart.” Dawn laughs, patting my thigh. The apples of her cheeks burn bright pink, and she looks over her shoulder toward Lydia, pointing at me like an inside joke. “I’ve been known to please quite a few suitors in my day, but I’m afraid I’m a little too old for what you’re offering.”
Dropping her head back, Lydia groans. “How old are you, Dog Mom? Forty? You’re not too old to have sex.”
“I’m forty-three.” She scrunches her face in confusion. “And why do you keep calling me that?”
“We don’t want to hire you as an escort,” I explain. Wilder gave me a pocket-sized knife to hide in my purse a few days ago. I’m about to stab Lydia with it. “Not that we don’t think you could do the job, but we need someone on an administrative level. Like, human resources.”
“Hush offers insurance benefits? That’s so progressive.”
“Oh, my God.” Lydia throws her arms up.
“Hush is expanding, and Ridge & Sons is evolving. Lydia and I are going to be busy in the coming months, so we need someone we trust to—”
“We need a babysitter,” Lydia says. “You’ll be in charge of making sure our girls have everything they need. Food, shelter, and someone to contact when we’re away. You stand to make more money than your Dog Lover Etsy shop will ever make. And yes, if you refuse, I’ll kill you.” Lydia smiles. “Just kidding. Kinda. Sorta.”
“So, what you’re saying is if Hush were a sorority, I’d be the house mom.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Lydia shakes the ice around in her glass.
“Sounds fun.” Dawn smacks her palms on top of her thighs and stands up. “But I’ll have you know, my Etsy shop does really well.”
Thirty minutes later, Wilder walks through the front door, dressed in dark jeans and a gray hoodie. He and Lydia have made good on their deal to never let me out of their sight again. Neither was out of reach in the days following the shooting. As our lives slowly return to their normal routines, they’ve settled on passing me back and forth like parents with shared custody.
The entire team has been recruited to the cause. On the occasion when the King and Queen of Disaster are not around to chauffeur me from my room to the kitchen, Talent leads the way. Yael’s gaze lingered longer than usual on our drives to the office this week. Our custodian Tony is always sweeping the lobby when Lydia and I arrive, and being the good guy that he is, he accompanies us from the entrance to the elevators. Sonya, the Ridge & Sons receptionist, has made a bad habit of sending group texts about my whereabouts during the workday and including me in the thread.
The package has arrived.
The package is getting coffee.
The package looks hungry.
It’s me.
I am the package.
This is only the beginning of more changes to come, and I’m trying to be understanding. I won’t be the one to put up a fight—not yet. Not when Wilder has blood on his hands, and so soon after his father’s passing.
He and Lydia share a look that says,I’ll have her back by darkandyou better.
“Are you ready?” Wilder asks. He rubs his hands together, warming them after the cold.
I grab my bag from the kitchen table and sling it across my body, kissing Lydia on the cheek and walking right past Wilder toward the door. I want to leave before they start discussing bedtime schedules and child support.
Laughing when I bring this up in the car, Wilder lifts our joined hands up to his lips and kisses mine. I thought he might be different after killing Luca Coppola and two of his men, plagued by the notion that he wiped human souls off the face of the earth or haunted by the light going out in their eyes as they died. But the only thing that changed is the lessening of the burden on his shoulders.
Revenge was heavy.
And he unloaded it with a bullet.
We might be in the eye of the storm, quiet days before Nicolai becomes boss. When the coast is clear and questions about the death of the dearly departed vanish, he’ll come for Wilder and Talent as agreed. We don’t know when it will happen, but when it does, Wilder will take an oath of his own. And then … and then, I don’t know.
The only part I’m certain of is we’ll be together through it all.
“I can petition for sole custody,” Wilder says. The hint of a dimple dots his smile as we come to a stoplight in front of the Grand Haven Marina. “It’ll be one hell of a court battle. I’m a lawyer, I know these things.”
Pulling my hand out of his, I push his arm and press my lips together to keep from laughing. “It’s not funny. I think I’ve proven that I’m not a child.”
“Camilla, no one thinks you’re a child.” He drives up and down each row in the parking lot, looking for the perfect spot. One as far from our destination as possible, away from other cars, and preferably, along a curb. We could have left the car parked at the apartment and walked the ten miles here, but he finally pulls into a suitable vacant spot and turns the engine off. “But I can’t lose you again. When Luca had you—”
