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)
Cam flew back to New York far more often than Tom came to visit her family. Business and family obligations often kept him tied up in Chicago more than he cared to admit. But he was settled with this life, now—knew this was where he was meant to be.
Still, when new babies came around and a birth was to be celebrated, he cleared his schedule. Nothing else mattered but family, after all. Even if that family was a couple of states away from them.
His father—still the boss of the Chicago Outfit, and not quite ready to let the reins go—understood, and never said a word.
Water under the bridge, Tommas liked to say about the Donati boss. His father let bygones be bygones when it came to Cross.
The apology probably helped.
It still took a while.
Cross bent down to grab a discarded toy on the floor, and as he straightened up, he asked, “So when are you going to add to Ma and Dad’s growing pile of grandkids, Cam?”
Clearing his throat when his wife’s eyes widened to the size of small saucers, Tom knew what was coming next. When someone asked a question like that, his wife’s next move was fucking predictable.
Even if it was him asking the question.
“Oh, Naz is waking up a bit,” Cam said, “so I should go find Catherine.”
“He’s not—”
“Be right back,” Cam called over her shoulder as she darted out of the room.
Tom looked to Cross. “She’s not coming back.”
Camilla’s older brother raised a single brow, and nodded. “Figured. What, she doesn’t want kids, or ...?”
Eh.
Tom made a noise in the back of his throat, and tipped his hand back and forth as if to say, It’s a little iffy.
“Really?”
He shrugged. “At first,” Tom said, “she wanted to finish school.”
“Which she has,” Cross said, his brow dipping in confusion, “a long fucking time ago, man.”
“Yeah, and then it was that she wanted to do things—travel, you know.”
“Comes with the territory.”
“And now it’s that she wants us to enjoy being ... us,” Tom said.
Cross’s stance softened a bit as he glanced at his old friend. “And what do you want?”
“Not to discuss our childless life with people.”
“My bad.”
Tom cleared his throat again—a nervous tic he never could quite get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. A lot like drumming his fingers. His father always liked to point it out whenever he was doing it like that would change it.
Never did.
Story of his life.
“Sorry,” Tom said, “maybe that was a little out of line.”
Cross shrugged, and dropped onto the end of the couch. “Nah, it’s your right to tell me to fuck off where you two are concerned. You don’t want me in your personal business, then yeah, say so. I get it. I’m a big boy—I know what back the fuck off means. My wife knows how to say it without even speaking.”
Tom chuckled. “Don’t they all?”
“Comes with the territory,” Cross murmured again.
“I don’t know,” Tom said, finding a spot on the couch beside his friend. “I never really focused on kids when Cam wasn’t interested. I’ve got Joe and Cory’s kids under my feet a couple of times a week. August and Beni, too. My sisters ... anyway, I haven’t lacked kids being around to miss it, if you get my meaning.”
“Not your kids, though.”
True.
Tom didn’t admit that out loud, though.
“You turned thirty-one this year, right?”
“What’s that got anything to do with it?” Tom asked.
“Curious.”
“Yeah.”
“Cam’s twenty-nine.”
“I know how old my wife is, Cross.”
His friend smiled a bit—the kind of smug ass smile that drove Tom insane a lot of the time.
“What?” he asked, irritated.
“It’s usually the wife’s biological clock ticking down, isn’t it?” Cross asked. “Never heard of a man who hears it ticking, too.”
Tom scowled. “I don’t have—”
Upstairs above their heads, girlish toddler giggles echoed from Cece. A baby’s cry soon followed.
It was just those sounds alone that made Tommaso stiffen a bit, but not with an uncomfortable sensation that made him want to leave. No, with a kind of longing he hadn’t really felt in a long time.
Not since he first met Cam.
Cross glanced over at his friend. “Life is kind of tough like that, Tom. Sometimes, we get the things we want, and other times, we don’t.”
“Poetic,” he murmured dryly.
“Yeah, it’s what I do.”
*
A short while later, Tom decided to go in search of his wife when Camilla didn’t come back downstairs. Cross figured he had crossed a line, and so, sent Tom to bring Cam back without the awkwardness that might happen if it were him.
Fucking coward.
Soon, Tom found his wife in little Naz’s nursery. The upstairs was quiet again—Catherine had urged her toddler daughter downstairs to drive her father crazy while Nazio napped, apparently.
Cam hummed a familiar lullaby as she leaned over the baby’s crib. Tom stayed quiet in the doorway as she hadn’t noticed his presence, and enjoyed the sight of her drifting her fingertips over Naz’s chubby cheeks.