Page 131 of Chicago Sin

I hand her a mug when she comes out with a towel wrapped around her luscious curves.

She sets it down without drinking any. “Thanks but my stomach’s off this morning. Where are you going?” she asks. It kills me that she looks like she doesn’t expect me to answer. Or like she doesn’t deserve to ask. It kills me that I don’t have more to give to Hannah Munn, the girl who offered up her whole world to me when I didn’t ask nicely. When I didn’t ask at all.

“A baptism. And the party afterward.”

I see hurt flicker over her face and feel the knife in my chest twist deeper. I want to invite her. Hell, nothing would make me happier than having Hannah at my side. It would make dealing with Emilio and Grace so much easier, it would stop all the stares and whispers of everyone wondering how I’m dealing with Emilio and Grace.

“I’m going to my parents for dinner. You’re, um, welcome to come,” she says, but her normal morning glee is void from her tone.

Fuck. I rub my shaved jaw. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Curls. Your dad didn’t exactly love the idea of me hanging around you.”

Of all the men in the world, Hannah’s dad had to be on the same job site as me. At least I have the very small satisfaction of having backed him up when he asked for the doctor visit.

Fuck, probably the doctor visit that should have prevented this heart attack.

“You working today?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“‘Kay. I’ll go there after the party. See if I can help you with anything.”

She nods, but I still see the hurt in her face. I brush my lips across hers. “Be good, Flowers. I’ll see you soon.”

The baptism party is like any Family party. I’ve been to a thousand of them, but this one is excruciating. Almost as painful as my welcome home party.

Marco and Leo stick near me, and I do my best to not look like a sullen cunt although I probably don’t succeed.

Fucking Grace has to come over again—I swear she must be suffering from more guilt than I gave her credit for. But then, there was a time when I thought we truly loved each other. Just because my heart is darker than night now doesn’t mean she doesn’t still feel the pull of what we once had.

She just doesn’t know that guy is dead.

“Hi Mando,” she says, all breathless. “Listen, um, this is awkward.” She shoots a glance at Marco and Leo, who hold their ground.

I don’t tell them to do anything different.

“I just wanted to say, um, that I have your invite to the wedding. I just—I couldn’t decide which was worse—to send it or not to send it.” Her eyes swim with real tears, which takes me by surprise.

“Aw, Grace.” I’m suddenly so fucking tired. Too tired to deal with any of this shit. What does she want me to say? That she’s forgiven?

Eh. Maybe she is. I don’t know.

Seeing her standing in front of me right now with her perfect makeup and her fake nails, it just brings home how superficial our relationship was. We were together because we looked good together. We fit, in terms of the Outfit and the circles we ran in. She wanted a guy who flashed the money around. Who treated her nice and fucked her good. Who played all the romantic gestures right out of the playbook.

I did that for her. She did what she was supposed to do for me—look pretty on my arm. Say the right things at Family gatherings, do what she was told.

It wasn’t a relationship. It was two people playing at one. We did it well. Until we didn’t. Because prison didn’t fit the role she wanted from me.

Hannah wouldn’t write me off when things went wrong. Hell, everything with Hannah has already gone wrong. I’ve killed a man on the floor of her shop. Tied her up and held her prisoner. Offered her nothing of my dark, dead heart.

And still she cries for me. Still she wrapped those arms around my neck when I had a bad dream, even when I nearly broke her wrist for trying to wake me.

I love her.

The thought hits me like a bowling ball. Especially because I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t be what Hannah deserves.

If I had any kind of decency, I’d move out and leave her out of my mess right now.

I stare at Grace, my gut churning. “Yeah, Grace, I’d rather not come, honestly. But thanks for asking. Listen, I have a question, though.”