Page 86 of Jordan

“Okay, boss.”

It’s dark out, late. The emergency meeting with the families took longer than anticipated because Dario Canvani is a fucking asshole. One who suddenly grew a bunch of balls and has no issue telling anyone off. I wish I knew where the confidence is coming from. His family is the smallest, weakest. The only reason they’re still around is because of those treaties, and when my brothers and I take over my father’s position, the Canvanis can fuck right off.

The next meeting, the one my father is required to be at, is in about two months. Plenty of time to figure out what the hell what we’re going to do. The thing that makes the most sense is bringing him along. But who knows what kind of mood he’ll be in and what kind of shit he’ll say. We could bring along the doctor’s paperwork with his official diagnosis, but that doesn’t mean anything in this world.

I just got married without my wife agreeing to it or being present. Forging a diagnosis is easy as pie. No one will believe it unless they see it. And going to one meeting, over the course of an hour or two, may not do it. Papa still has good days. Still has days where he only seems off and not entirely gone. But he has some terrible days too. Days where he’s hysterical and angry and confused. All. Damn. Day. And who’s to say they’d believe it? Even if he were having a day where he was calling all of us pretty cows, it’s easily faked. I mean, how hard is it to pretend you’ve lost your mind?

I get out of the car, Rocco following me, and head into the pharmacy.

The clerk behind the counter smiles as I walk in, and I head to the back where the cards are. I’m officially married today. The least I can do is something thoughtful for my wife. Start this marriage off on the right foot.

I look through them all, and why I feel this is the best way to tell my wife she is officially my wife, I’m not sure. But it’s all I’ve got right now. I don’t have the energy to fight with her—because this will be a fight. I’m tired and stressed the fuck out, which I don’t like.

It doesn’t help that my outlet is gone. The one who helps me relieve stress. But of course, I couldn’t keep him here for my own selfish reasons; his mother is dying.

Family is everything.

I grab the light blue card with gold lettering, pick up a box of chocolates, and a stuffed animal plushy that is softer than I remember them being when I was a kid. It was the last unicorn on the shelf, stuck between a load of frogs and bears. Seemed right. Jordan, to me, is like a unicorn. Rare and fucking magical.

I pay for everything and head back into the car. Once I’m home, I sneak into Jordan’s room and find her asleep. I leave the card, chocolates, and animal on her end table by her phone.

I watch her for a moment, noting how peaceful she looks in sleep.

Will our lives ever be normal? My life isn’t normal to begin with, but can I give her a typical marriage? Can I give her anything she wants? Outside of children and freedom? Maybe one day, but I’m not sure. Being in this life doesn’t allow me to have typical and normal things.

But it’ll be better than what her father gave her.

The fucking coward.

She deserves to know the truth, but I can’t tell her.

It isn’t my business to tell.

When she learns how much of a dick her father is, it’ll be him admitting to it, not me making him out to be the awful person he is.

He can throw himself under the bus; I have enough shit to handle. And he’ll do it eventually because that’s what cowards do.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jordan

The sun isn’t up when I open my eyes. I can tell by the dim light in the room that it’s starting, but not quite there. I never wake up this early. Never. Though, now that I recall, I did go to sleep much earlier than usual. Right after dinner, actually.

I found myself sitting at the dining room table, waiting for Enzo. He said he would try to make it home for dinner and I waited for him. He never showed.

So that’s what my life will be? Me waiting for him to come home. Me sitting around, wasting my life away—waiting. Wondering if he’s dead or alive, because that crossed my mind.

With mixed opinions too.

Would I be happy if he died? I’d get my freedom. But he’s Enzo. I’ve always cared for him in a familial type of way. Like an uncle, maybe. I don’t want him to die.

When I finished eating last night, I sat at the table for a while. I drank an entire bottle of wine myself. Then I waited some more. Still, he didn’t show, so I went to my room and fell asleep, feeling like a fool.

I roll over to glance at the clock to check the time. Breakfast is served at 7:30 sharp, but if I have enough time to take a bath, that’s what I’m doing.

Only I can’t see my clock, because there’s a unicorn in the way of it. I push myself up, and reach out to grab it, making sure it’s really there and I haven’t gone crazy. A unicorn is what I would see if I lost my mind.

It definitely is there, so I pick it up, giving it a few squeezes. It’s super soft—like a marshmallow. A glance back at the table tells me there’s also a heart-shaped box of chocolates and an envelope.