Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
His wife’s voice faded the further she went down the hall. Once again, he couldn’t see her through the office doorway. Another door clicked shut, and her voice cut off entirely, letting him know that she had disappeared into their master bedroom to finish grabbing their things and probably end her conversation.
It meant he had to hurry up here.
Make a choice.
Soon, his wife would be back and he would have to leave this space. Not only would he not have the number then that he needed to call, but he also didn’t think that was the sort of phone conversation that should happen while they raced into the city to wait for the birth of their first grandchild.
Not just your first grandchild, his mind reminded.
Right.
Like he needed the extra memo.
Dante knew.
Which was exactly why he was still sitting there at his desk like a fucking idiot after being told his first grandchild ever—his grandson—would finally be making his way into the world. Because despite something being the right choice, that didn’t always mean that it was also the easy choice. Those two things were not always mutually exclusive.
Not that it changed what Dante needed to do.
Nothing made a difference to that.
Instead, he pulled on the wisdom his father had shared with him time and time again throughout his long life. He thought about Antony, and what he would have done in a situation like this, and while the answer he already knew didn’t change ... it strengthened his resolve to do what had to be done.
Dante had just reached for the phone after pulling out a drawer in his desk when the voice of his wife echoed from the office doorway. He didn’t even look up from where he searched for the black book with every phone number he might ever need hidden safely beneath its leatherbound cover.
“What are you doing?” Catrina asked.
Dante let out a slow breath, flipping page after page. The name and number would be near the end, he knew. A favor from a friend—that’s how he got it in the first place, even if that meant Dante owed somebody else a favor now and he hated being in anyone’s debt. He’d just the number just once before. Made a single call to the man the number belonged to so that he could be sure ...
“Calling Charles Casey,” Dante said.
Catrina quieted in the doorway.
Dante let her have those few seconds while he finally found the number. His fingers hovered over the keypad but didn’t press down. Instead, he looked to his wife.
“Do you think you should do that?” she asked.
“It’s been ten years. He’s not had more children—the man is never going to remarry, Catrina. He lost a woman once ... it would be like me losing you. There’s no moving on. He didn’t replace the things he lost, including his daughter. This baby isn’t just our first grandchild, and I think the offer should be put out. If you think differently, please let me know why now.”
“I just ... maybe you should tell Michel, let him decide.”
“It’s not about Michel, and he will understand that.”
Catrina chewed on her inner cheek. “You’re going to do it one way or another, won’t you?”
“I would appreciate your support, though.”
“Right.” Catrina nodded. “Of course. And I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to leave.”
“I love you, Cat.”
She smiled. “Oh, you know how much I love you, bello.”
He did.
Always and forever.
Once his wife had gone, Dante punched the numbers into the phone and picked up the receiver to put it against his ear. He thought about that first call he’d made to this number, how his hands had shaken more than they should because he had been pissed and nervous—two things he didn’t want to be.
But it had been his son.
His kid.
“Are you going to come here—are you coming after him?” was all Dante had asked Charles Casey after he explained who he was. “Give me the respect of telling me at least. Let me protect my boy when I have the chance to because he won’t let me otherwise.”
Charles had simply replied, “No, I’m not coming for the lad.”
“Casey here,” came a jovial accent on the other end.
Dante drew in a quick breath, coming back to the present and his reality and straight out of the past in a blink. “Charles—it’s been a long time, Irishman.”
It took the man a second.
Then, two.
“You feckin’ Italians.”
Dante almost smiled.
“What do ye want, Marcello?”
“It’s been ten years hasn’t it—a long time. Gabbie’s a lawyer now, yeah? Probably one of the top five defense attorneys in this state, and she’s not even been part of the bar more than a handful of years. You should be proud, Charles.”
The man on the other end cleared his throat. “Is she?”
“Took that dream from her Ma, I heard.”
“She did. That doesn’t tell me what you want.”