Maggie ran into the room. She took one look at the situation, turned, and ran toward the bathroom.
Chloe glanced down at her ruined dance costume and burst into tears. “No!”
I’d seen war veterans go into a post-traumatic fugue state but had never experienced one myself—until then. My mind blanked.
“My tutu!”
“Come with me.” I tossed my shirt in the laundry, took her hand, and led her to the bathroom.
“I don’t feel good.” Chloe sobbed while I mopped the puke from her tutu with a frilly white hand towel. One of Maggie’s special, decorative-only hand towels. Shit.
“I know, sweetie.” I wiped the carnage from my chest and started a shower. “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Chloe nodded, her shoulders shaking with each sob.
I placed my hand on her forehead and frowned. She had a fever. “Do you want me to stay here or do you need privacy?”
“Privacy.”
I worried she’d fall or vomit again and freak out, but I understood. “I’ll get you some PJs and wait in the hall in case you need me.”
“I love you, Uncle Gabe.”
My heart melted. Getting puked on was worth it—almost. “Love you, too, munchkin.”
After the quick bath, I tucked the girl into bed. Her forehead didn’t feel as warm as it had and her color looked better, but I hated to leave her alone.
Tears leaked from Chloe’s eyes.
“What’s the matter?” I smoothed her hair back from her face.
“I’m going to miss my recital.”
“What if we hold another one? We’ll invite the family. It’ll be a one woman show.”
“Will there be a stage?” Her expression brightened, and I knew she’d be okay.
“Of course.”
“And a pink costume with wings?”
I booped her nose. “Is there any other kind?”
Chloe snuggled into her pillow. “Okay.”
“I need to check on Ella and Maggie. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
She nodded and patted the side of the bed.
The chocolate lab hopped up and curled against the little girl. The dog and I shared a look. Cocoa was a pain in the ass, but she’d keep an eye on her master.
I stepped into the master bedroom and peeked into the crib. Sound asleep, Ella sucked an imaginary bottle. I could have watched her sleep for hours, but a noise from the bathroom drew my attention.
I leaned close to the door and lowered my voice. “Maggie?” When she didn’t respond, I poked my head inside. “Mags?”
She’d fallen asleep while spooning the toilet.
I touched her shoulder. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
She raised her head with the most pitiful expression I’d ever seen. “Help me to my bedroom. I don’t want Ella to get sick.”
I slid an arm around her waist, hoisted her to her feet, and half-carried her to my bed. “Stay in here. It’s closer to the bathroom. Chloe’s in bed.”
“Is she okay?” She started to get up, more than likely planning to check on the girl.
“She’s fine. Cocoa’s keeping an eye on her.”
Maggie curled into the pillows. “Aren’t our mothers still here?”
“No. I threw them out for bad behavior.” I pulled the blankets to her chin.
“They hate each other.”
Gee, I hadn’t noticed. “I know.”
“Check to see if the boys have a fever. If not, send them to my mom.”
“Would it be all right if they went to my parents’ instead?”
“Why?”
“The look Nadine gave me on her way out…”
She nodded against the pillow and whispered, “Call your mom, but promise me you’ll testify if she uses this against me in the custody hearing.”
16
Maggie
With Chloe sleeping, and the rest of the kiddos at their grandmother’s for the night, the house was quiet—too quiet. I had nothing to do, so I’d spent the day feeling like garbage and thinking about my life. Under the circumstances, that wasn’t a good idea. To distract myself, I retrieved my laptop from my room. Maybe I could squeeze out a couple of chapters on my new book before I went back to sleep.
An email from Shanna caught my eye. From the looks of it, she’d spent a considerable amount of time researching the Marchionni family. I scrolled through genealogy records that made my head spin. Names and dates and places. Births and deaths and marriages—too much to comprehend in one sitting.
My phone rang, and I nearly toppled out of bed trying to reach it. “Hello?”
“You’re going to die, bitch.” The caller hung up.
I glanced at the screen. Blocked number. “I thought prank calls died sometime in the nineties.”
“Mags?” Gabe knocked and opened the door.
I dropped my cell and snapped the laptop closed. “Is Chloe okay?”
He gave me the same look he had when he’d stared at my boobs. Crazy man. Sure, I was in bed, but there was nothing sexy about my reading glasses and ponytail.
I pulled the blanket higher on my chest.
“She’s sleeping. Can I come in?” His gaze drifted to my shoulders.
“Sure, it’s your room.”
He plopped down in the chair near the window. “Want to watch a movie?”
“I’m really tired. I’m going to sleep once I finished checking my email.”
“We could watch a chick-flick.” He wiggled his brows.
“Just so you know, porn isn’t the same thing as a chick-flick.”
“I beg to differ, but that’s not what I had in mind. Come on Mags. You can pick the movie.” Biting his lower lip, Gabe dipped his chin and peered through his lashes. The expression would have looked feminine on most men, but he wasn’t most men.
“Don’t give me puppy-eyes. We’ll do it another time. I promise.” I wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, but I had work to do. “Oh. I’ve been meaning to ask you. What happens to your bar once you take over for your dad?”
“You know…I asked Joe a similar question in this exact spot.” He stood as if to leave.
My reporter’s instincts kicked in. I’d hit a nerve. “When was that?”
Gabe hesitated and picked up a photo of my sister and her husband. “Shortly after Zach was born. Joe planned to start working with our father. I pointed out he’d be traveling a lot.”
I nodded, though I couldn’t shake the feeling he’d lied, or at very least, held something back.
“How can you stand to be in this room?” Speaking through gritted teeth, he slammed the picture face down on the dresser.
Once again, his reaction surprised me. “I feel strange getting rid of their stuff. I don’t usually stay in here.”
“I get that, but I don’t think anyone would mind if you changed things to your taste.” He motioned from the collection of family photos to the stack of books on the nightstand.
Joe and Rebecca wouldn’t mind because they were dead, but the kids might have a problem with me messing with their parents’ things. “I’d rather not—”
“Do you like it here?” Chin raised, he stared down at me.
I wrapped my arms around my middle. Why is he so upset? “It’s okay.”
Gabe seemed to pick up on my distress and softened his tone. “If you ever decide you want to move, I’d be happy to help you and the kids get a new house.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Besides, this is their home. How could I move them when they have been through so much?”
“Maybe they need a new beginning as much as you do.” He walked to the door. “Sweet dreams, Maggie.”
That’s it? He’s leaving? “Wait, you didn’t answer my question. I think I have a right to know what happens to your bar since I’m an employee now.”
The change in his demeanor concerned me, but it also told me where to dig for information on the story.
“I’ll move.” I grabbed my laptop and marched to my room.
Gabe followed. “Maggie, wait. I didn’t mean to chase you off.”
I set the computer on my nightstand. “It’s fine. I’m sick, and you’re tired. We both need some rest.”
“I’d rather not think about giving up my bar.”
His expression reminded me of Zach’s any time he talked about his parents. Gabe mourned the loss of his bar. It made sense, but it broke my heart. I understood family obligations better than most people, but I couldn’t understand him turning his back on his dream.
I slid beneath the blankets and plucked the remote from the nightstand. “Still up for a movie? You can choose.”
“Sure, but what I could really use is a Jack and Coke and sex.”
I wanted to call him out for avoiding questions any time they hit too close to a nerve. However, he chose that moment to strip out of his jeans and climbed in beside me in his boxer briefs.
My stomach did a backflip that had nothing to do with the virus rampaging through my body. “I can’t drink, or I might throw up again, and sex is off the table.”
“Okay. How about a blowjob?” He poked my side.
“That’s sex.”
“No, it’s not. Everyone knows that. Bill Clinton made it legally not sex back in the nineties.”
I smacked his arm and curled up beside him.
“I’m kidding.” He flipped through the channels.
My phone rang from the other room.
“Crap.”
“I’ll get it.” Gabe hopped out of bed.
Fighting off exhaustion, I ran through my to-do list. I didn’t have time to get sick. I needed to finish the damned article and get paid before the custody hearing.
“Missed the call. It was a blocked number.” He tossed the cell to me, and it dinged with a voicemail alert.
I hit replay and listened to the same raspy voice call me every name for a female of questionable morals I’d ever heard, and some I hadn’t.
“Mags?”
“Second prank call tonight.” I deleted the message.
He frowned and stretched out beside me. “I can have the calls traced.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I had a feeling it was something, but after the day I’d had, I didn’t want to get into it. Nuzzling into the pillow, I flashed him a smile to butter him up. “Are you up for watching the kids Wednesday morning?”
“Sure, but where are you going?”
“I have to do some research for a new piece I’m working on. Then I have a shift at the bar.”
“What happened with the cultural reviews?” Gabe rolled to face me.
“They pulled my article. I’m on a new assignment. I have to finish it soon.”
“I can watch them.” He brushed my hair back from my face.
“Thank you. I’ll write down everyone’s schedule. I should be home by three.”
“Have you spoken to your lawyer about the hearing?”
I closed my eyes and debated on how to answer. Lying or avoiding seemed like the best options, but he’d find out the truth sooner or later. “Attorneys cost money.”
“Now that I’m living here, my folks should back off.”
My stomach did another somersault. I’d owe him big time if he managed to get Evelyn off my case. “That’d be great, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He drew his brows together and tensed his jaw, an expression I knew meant he had something unpleasant to discuss.
“What’s wrong?” Nerves thinned my voice.
“Nothing.” He glanced back to the television. “How’s it going at the bar?”
“It’s fun.” I sincerely doubted he’d intended to talk about my second job.
“How do you feel about hiring a nanny? I could change our schedules so we would see more of each other.”
Ah-ha. I knew it. I eased back from him. “I don’t want a nanny.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to avoid me by working different shifts.” He grinned, likely to hide the insecurity in his words.
Once again, his expression made me pause. Gabe was a lot of things, but unsure of himself? Never. “I like having you here, now that you’re not drinking from the milk carton.”
He tugged my body against his. “Think about it, Mags. When it slows down at the bar, you could use the time to finish the novel. Hell, you could even go back to school.”
“I can’t afford a nanny, and you’re going back to your life in another week or so.” Although, I could use the time to finish my novel. Lord knew, I needed the check from the publisher. Still, I didn’t feel right about pawning the kids off on someone else. Rebecca had left them in my hands, not a nanny’s.
“About that…” Gabe pulled back enough to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to move out. Let’s make us official.”
A million questions popped into my head. What did he mean official? Dating? Would I wear his class ring and letterman jacket? Was that an off-handed proposal? What would the kids think? Could I do this again with him?
Gabe’s cell rang. He leaned over the bed, pulled it from his jeans, and hit the ignore button.
Memories of the weeks and months after our break-up crashed over me. I couldn’t help but wonder who called him at all hours of the day and night, and why he never answered. I sat up and scooted away. “You have a bad habit of not answering your cell.”
“Blocked number.” He clasped his hands behind his head, the picture of relaxed. “Maybe your prankster moved on to me.”
I knew him. I recognized the tension in his jaw, and that his grin hadn’t crinkled the corners of his eyes. Gabe had lied to me.
“You should go. Chloe might come looking for me, or my mother could show up in the morning.” The thought of my mother finding him in my bed made my head hurt almost as much as his dishonesty.
“Your mother already thinks we’re sleeping together.”
My throat tightened. “Why does she think that?”
“She got the wrong idea this morning.” He shrugged and nudged my side. “May as well do the deed. I’m sure both our mothers already lit candles for our sinful souls.”
“Perfect.” I drew my knees to my chest. “One more thing your mom can use against me in court.”
“I’ll get her to drop the custody case, but it would be easier to do if you had my ring on your finger.”
Blood rushed behind my eardrums. That was definitely an off-handed proposal.
His phone rang again. This time he cursed and turned it off.
My nerves sparked like downed powerlines. “Who keeps calling you?
“It’s another blocked number. Probably a solicitor.” He reached for my hand. “I want this. I want you. Let’s go ring shopping.”
“I can’t marry you. We’re just now getting to know each other again.” Part of me wanted to laugh, the other wanted to cry. I’d never stopped loving him, but he’d broken my heart. I couldn’t go through that again. I wouldn’t survive it.
Gabe’s expression grew more serious. “She’s wrong, you know.”
“Who?”
“Your mother. Guys like me do fall for women like you.”
My mouth moved though no sound came out. I stared for a beat and dipped my chin. I couldn’t look at him, not when I felt so damned humiliated. “You heard that?”
“Yeah.” He took my hand and pulled until I rested against his chest. “Nothing personal, but your mother’s a bitch. Took everything I had to not toss her out on her skinny ass last week. And man-oh-man, did I enjoy kicking her out this morning.”
“She’s had a tough time since her divorce and worries about me getting hurt.” I hated myself for defending her, but she was my mom.
“There’s no excuse.” He ran
hand up my back. “Let me hold you tonight. We’ll talk about the rest in the morning.”
I weighed my options. Chloe might come downstairs, but I could always lock the bedroom door. I sighed, preparing to turn him down when it hit me—I didn’t want him to leave. Not tonight. Not ever. I’d always loved him, but at some point since he showed up on my doorstep, I’d tripped and fallen back in love with him. “Stay.”
“That was too easy. Are you sure?” He nuzzled his face into my hair.
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“No.” Gabe chuckled. “Close your eyes and get some rest.”
“I feel better.”
“Good.”
“You convinced me to sleep with you and all you want to do is sleep?” I slid my hand down his back to his ass.
“Crazy what we do for love, isn’t it?” He kissed the top of my head. “Good night, Maggie.”
He used the L-word! It seemed silly that those four letters could make my pulse race faster than it had when he’d all but asked me to marry him. For once in my life, I settled into the warm-fuzzy feeling of belonging without the fear of it all coming down around me. “Good night, Gabe.”
17
Gabe
The digital clock on the nightstand proved far less entertaining than the fully clothed woman in my arms, but I stared at it anyway. I needed the distraction to keep my mind and my hands still. She’d taken me by surprise when she’d asked me to stay.
Hell, I’d surprised myself with the half-assed proposal. I should have known better than to spring it on her like that. She deserved better, but Maggie had a way of making me act before I thought.
When we’d dated before, her intensity had scared me. Not that I minded smart women, quite the contrary, but in my line of work, a strong-willed woman didn’t last long. She’d ask questions and demand answers—answers I couldn’t give.
At twenty-one, her optimism shined like the sun. She believed she could change the world, and I had no doubt she would succeed. The woman had every conceivable detail of her future planned out. When I realized those plans included me, I made the decision to let her go for her own good. Who was I to tie her to a world she would never understand, let alone accept? Only the man who regretted pushing her away every fucking day of my life.
Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1) Page 10