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Amo was the one who was either brave or dumb enough to say what they were all thinking. “But you’d be a great mom.”

“Thank you.” She appreciated his words, knowing they had come from a good place. It was a relatively new time for women to openly admit they didn’t want to have children of their own, and while it was easier to tell people to mind their business, it was also beneficial to tell others your reasoning for deciding against bringing another life onto this Earth, especially when it came to kids she helped. She had promised herself long ago that, if they were curious about something, she would always answer their questions openly and honestly. “But there are plenty of children out there already who need me, and that is good enough for me.”

And it truly was for Nadia. Her calling wasn’t to be a mother. Her calling was to help those who didn’t have one. The only mom she was planning to be was a dog one when she eventually moved out of the apartment.

She could see the understanding pass over Amo’s expression. It was like he could truly see her now, and she knew he meant every one of his next words. “You’re a really great person, Nad—”

“Could you stop blowing smoke up her ass just so you can sleep with her?” Dante hissed at his soldier coldly.

Everyone went deathly silent at his outburst.

Nadia, on the other hand, couldn’t believe the man she had spent last night with had said that. She knew Amo hadn’t said that last part to fuck her. He had said it because, unlike him, Amo was a good person deep down.

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she felt pure fury rise in her veins. “Thank you, Amo.” Her once sweet tone turned deadly harsh as she directed her next words to someone else. “I wish it took blowing smoke up my ass to get me into bed.” Throwing her napkin down on her plate, she stood then walked off as her appetite and weekend had now been ruined.

It turned out that getting all dressed up hadn’t been worth it at all.

* * *

Oh God, Dante had fucking regretted the words the moment they had left his lips. When was he going to learn that you couldn’t take back the things you did, let alone said?

He wasn’t the king of Kansas City anymore. He was the king of ruining every relationship he had ever had or might ever have. Dante Caruso was the biggest piece of shit on the planet, and what did it say about him that he would agree?

Each step he took to his room made him feel guiltier, and even though he didn’t take the stairs down to Nadia’s, he knew there was going to be a bigger guilt waiting for him if he apologized.

Opening his door, he noticed the item that had been placed on his bed immediately. He knew what it was already, but it didn’t make him hurt any less the closer he got to it until he saw what was lying on top.

His white button-up shirt that he had given Nadia had been perfectly folded, awaiting his return. He had given it to her on the first night, hoping it would make her feel secure and safe enough to leave her room, and it killed him to think it no longer provided that for her. That he no longer provided that for her.

He didn’t know if it was the returning of his shirt or the rectangle piece of paper that had been torn into two that rested on top that hurt more. The one-hundred-thousand-dollar check that was now rendered useless had him feeling as if he himself had been ripped in half. He knew it that meant for her to do that. She had spoken about her charity and the children she helped like nothing else in her life mattered more than them. So, for her to choose to give up the money to help build her kids a new facility meant that he had gone a step too far.

I have never come across anything that couldn’t be fixed with a ‘sorry’ and some time. Her words from yesterday came to his mind, but as he picked up the ripped-up check, he couldn’t help but think that there was no amount of sorry or time that could fix this. Like he felt with everyone he wronged in his life lately, some things aren’t meant to be fixed.

Dante picked up his shirt and brought it closer to his face. It smelled of detergent, as any trace of her had been washed away. He had secretly hoped it smelled of sunshine, wanting to remember …

… Dante must’ve only slept an hour or two when his eyes drifted open. The only reason he knew that was because the sun had yet to rise, along with the pounding headache. Then he felt the sleeping figure next to him before he actually saw her.