Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I heard the hint of hurt in her voice at that.
“I’m sorry I missed it, Ma,” I told her. “I did get a birthday cake, though. Baked just for me.”
Her curiosity clearly piqued, she turned, dark brows raised. “Really? How was that? I thought you were away on business.”
“Not really, actually,” I said. I knew I really needed to talk to Luca first about this whole situation, but even Luca would understand how the women of the family could drag information out of us purely out of guilt. Or a practiced look of curiosity.
“No?” she asked, pretending not to be interested as she mixed something on the stove.
“It was a favor for a friend,” I told her. “You know Mass and Cammie’s story, right?”
“Of course,” she agreed.
“While helping get Cammie out, we had a local coffee shop owner helping us.”
“Yes, Traveler,” she said, nodding. “She was at the wedding. Pretty girl,” she said, eyes brightening.
“Sure, yeah. Anyway, she was having the kind of issue that required protection while things… got sorted out. So Aurelio and I went down there to do that. She baked me the cake when she found out about my birthday.”
“That was very nice of her to do for her… protection detail,” she said, and I knew my mom well enough to know she was probing.
“Yeah, it was,” I agreed, sipping my coffee, suddenly disappointed with the taste after over a week of drinking the coffee from Traveler’s shop.
“So, she’s safe now?”
“I wouldn’t be home if she wasn’t,” I said, hearing the edge in my voice, knowing my mom would pick up on it as well.
But she said nothing as she fixed me a plate of breakfast foods.
“So, about your birthday party…”
“Something small, Ma,” I pleaded. “I don’t want anything crazy right now. Just my siblings, maybe?” I suggested.
My mom loved planning and executing a big party. But something in my voice must have gotten through to her, because she didn’t try to talk me out of it.
“Of course,” she agreed, nodding, bringing her own plate over to the kitchen table to eat with me. “Just let me know when your schedule is clear.”
“I need to talk to Luca, but after that, I can give you a date,” I told her.
“Perfect. Do you want me to call Smush to give you a full restock around here?”
“Seems like you got things covered,” I said, waving toward the stove.
“Oh, just a few meals to get you back on your feet,” she said, as if my freezer wasn’t full of meals from her. But that was how my mom showed her love. And I guess I was in need of some of that.
Sleep hadn’t done a single thing to ease that black hole sensation I’d brought back to Navesink Bank with me.
“Honey,” my mom said, reaching across the table to place her hand on mine. “You seem unhappy,” she said.
You could never lie to this woman.
I swear she knew we’d pulled some shit before anyone even called her to tell her that we fucked up. She could just look at us and know.
“We can’t be happy all the time, right?” I asked.
To that, she nodded. “I guess that’s fair. But when you hurt, I hurt,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart.
“I’ll be fine, Ma. I just need to reacclimate to being home, is all.”
“Okay. I won’t press,” she said, giving my hand another pat, then launching into a conversation about my brothers and sister. Then my cousins, aunts, everyone.
A week away from a family as big as ours, and, yeah, I missed some shit.
By the time my mom headed out for the day, I had a lasagne and chicken parm in my fridge, and a promise to talk to her about my birthday after I met with Luca.
I knew that was meant to be my next stop.
I could head right across town to Famiglia, get a private audience with him, apologize, then take my punishment for not coming to him first.
I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.
So I cleaned up after my mom’s cooking. I unpacked my shit from the trip, setting up the new suits to go to the dry cleaner’s.
Smush would handle that.
I paid bills and checked in on some jobs I’d been working on before I left town.
I did some laundry.
I did anything in my fucking power to keep myself busy, to not think about the way Traveler left with her father like it was no big deal.
Was that an act?
Or was it actually no big deal to her?
And why the ever-loving fuck did it seem to be a big one to me?
“Fuck,” I hissed, shaking my head at myself as I laced up my sneakers to run to the gym, where I planned to kick my own ass for an hour or two, then run back home again.