Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“The library,” she admitted. “It was the only free place I could think of. Judah played with puzzles while I tried to figure out what to do.”
“How’d you find me?” I asked as she went from the clothes to the crib blankets, removing their tags and packaging.
“I… borrowed someone’s library card number to get on the computer to do a search. Apparently, even mafia capo’s addresses are public knowledge,” she teased. “Then I just wrote down the directions and started walking.”
“You must have been terrified,” I said, thinking of her walking down main roads, wondering if any passing car could be Warren coming to take her back to her prison.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, sucking in a deep breath, then letting it shudder out.
“You’re safe now,” I assured her. “Hence the extra guard. Even when I’m not here, someone will be one call away. But I still think…”
“That we should stay out of sight,” she filled in for me.
“I trust my men,” I assured her. “But… I do have neighbors. And who the hell knows what they might tell someone who comes asking questions. Like I said, the backyard is safe. I just wouldn’t go taking any walks kind of thing. At least until my Family figures out what to do about Warren.”
“Do you… do you think you’re going to do anything… permanent about Warren?” she asked.
“I can’t say. We’re really just in the fact-finding part right now. We didn’t know who Warren really was until today when we found out Warren is his middle name.”
“His… oh,” she said, brows pinching.
“You didn’t even know?”
“No. He introduced himself as Warren. I didn’t think to look into him.”
“But I could, uh, give you guys information about his guards or his house, if that is helpful.”
“It might be,” I said. “I will let you know. But for right now, just focus on… settling in. Decompressing. Here,” I said, bringing her a cup of coffee. “How much of a headache you think this crib is going to give me?” I asked, looking at the box.
“If I were you, I think I’d be more worried about that,” she said, pointing to the other big box. “What is that, exactly?”
“It’s a hybrid high chair,” I told her. “You can move a few pieces, and use it as a safe stool, so a toddler can stand at the counter and help you cook or decorate cookies or whatever. Figured it made more sense to have something that served more than one purpose.”
“I’m afraid I’ll be of no help with those. I once spent six hours trying to put together a dresser from IKEA. Ended up sitting on the floor crying,” she admitted, shaking her head at herself. “I will offer moral support while I do laundry,” she said, piling up Judah’s things.
With that, we broke apart to work on our separate tasks while Judah napped on the couch with a bunch of dining chairs to create a makeshift crib.
I dragged the crib upstairs to the room she chose, working on putting the thing together as she washed and dried the baby clothes.
By the time she brought them up to put them in the dresser, I had the thing together.
“I like this one,” she said, running her hand over the walnut polished ‘turned wood’ decorative spindles that were in each corner. “His other crib was white. I prefer the real wood look,” she said. “I love these too,” she said, turning to grab the bedding.
Blue sheets and a big crib blanket with a quilted mountain scene, complete with moose, bears, and a raccoon.
“Warren preferred all things white and minimal. I had to fight for Judah to have any color in his life.”
“He can have as much color as he wants now,” I assured her.
Her gaze slid to me, those brown eyes full of emotion.
“Thank you, Aurelio,” she said, giving me a nod as she tried to blink the tears away. “For everything. I’ll never be able to make it u—“
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” I cut her off. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m happy to help. Uh-oh,” I said when Judah started to cry. “Better get to work on his high chair before it’s time to make dinner,” I said, getting a smile out of her before she rushed off to grab her son.
I walked out sometime later, finding her cuddling and calming Judah, swaying in the living room. And, fuck, there was that gut punch again.
That feeling like everything I ever wanted was right there in front of me.
But that was fucking ridiculous.
So I forced myself to walk away.
She wasn’t mine.
Neither was Judah.
I needed to get a damn grip.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Claire
I didn’t unwind, not fully, that first day. Or even the first full day after that.
I think my body was just stuck in fight-or-flight, some part of me sure that Warren might come bursting through the door at any moment, despite the guard sitting in his car out front of the house, likely heavily armed, and ready to make a call for back-up, if necessary.