Page 14 of Gluttony (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

Chapter Eleven

Bowie

Valentine’s Day had come and gone, and aside from a single, long-stemmed rose delivered to my front door minutes after I’d arrived home from work on Thursday, I’d had no other news from Mickey.

Until early this morning.

Three days later.

Starting at six o’clock, my boyfriend has been blowing up my phone with apologies, heart eyes memes, and promises that it was the extreme stress that forced him to lay his hand on me in a violent way.

I’ve ignored every single message these last three hours, mainly because it’s my day off and I don’t feel like having a conversation about this until I’ve got at least three cups of coffee in me. Ping.

Fuck, he needs to stop with this. It was cute when we were eighteen and discovering the delights of no longer living under the scrutiny of others, but this is too much.

I’m not impressed, I’m annoyed. I’m also half asleep and grumpy as fuck.

Me : Stop texting me, I’ll talk to you when I’m ready.

Big Bro : Come on, I’ve got an entire day planned for us for Valentine’s Day.

I’d put the Big Bro name in my phone just in case there was an emergency call from him and the guys accidentally saw it. No one is safe from caller ID mishaps at inopportune times

Me : OMG fine. Just stop with the texts.

Big Bro : Love you.

I hover over the keys as I lie on my bed propped up by two pillows, and the comforter covers me all the way up to my chin. There’s a tiny air leak from the window closest to the kitchen, making it difficult to keep the place heated the way I like it.

When we chose this apartment, I knew I’d have to downgrade from our Upper West Side condo just a couple of blocks from Central Park. Any employer worth his salary would find the inconsistencies with my address and ask personal questions that we didn’t want to answer.

I do miss my central heating, though, that’s for damn sure.

I don’t know why I hesitate in responding until I bring two fingers to my cheek and lightly tap on the healing cut and tender flesh. He did that. I just can’t believe he raised his hand to me. It’s so unlike him. So completely out of character.

Does he have a temper? Sure, who doesn’t, right? But to actually backhand me? That’s new, and I don’t like it one bit.

Still, we’ve been through so much from such a young age.

Growing up in foster care is different than anything else.

Our sense of belonging is skewed, our family ties are loose and fragile.

It’s not surprising that the slightest show of love becomes an anchor of emotional survival.

Maybe I also owe it to him to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Clearly, he’s trying to make up for his mistake. Colossal as it was.

Me : What time do you need us to meet?

I guess he’s getting a second chance, then. Even as I tap out the question, my gut isn’t feeling it but my heart can’t help but want to forgive him. He’s the only family I have. Without him, I’m completely alone and that scares the crap out of me.

Big Bro : One hour.

So much for sleeping in.

It doesn’t take me long to get up, take a shower, and dress in warm, comfortable clothes. Wearing heels all week at work is grueling but I won’t deny they make my legs look fantastic. It’s all part of my evil plan to break my bosses’ defenses.

Just as I apply some clear gloss on my mauve lipstick, my phone chimes with yet another text. I don’t bother looking further than the notification since it’s clear Mickey just sent me a pin for our meeting point.

To be honest, I’m not thrilled about going today.

It’s not just the fact that I’m still angry about what he did the other night, which in and of itself was unforgivable.

The truth is, as much as we’d like to think Manhattan is a huge place, the reality is that people orbit in the same circles.

The chances of us bumping into the guys are slim but never zero.

It’s that fine line that makes my stomach roll at the thought.

This job we’re doing has the potential of a huge payout, setting us up for life. The fact my marks are the trifecta when it comes to the female fantasy is just the cherry on top of this very enticing cake.

Grabbing my coat, I do a quick last check in the mirror before pulling my beanie on and fixing the two braids so they fall over my chest. Maybe dressed like this, if we do cross the twins and Orion, they won’t recognize me. On the plus side, the sun is out so I can even put my black sunglasses on.

According to Mickey’s text message, our day begins in Central Park, at the Bethesda fountain.

Even though it’s turned off in the winter, it’s still quite popular with the tourists, and when I arrive, just over thirty minutes later, I’m not surprised to see hordes of people milling about.

It’s cold as fuck outside, barely in the forties, but the sun has an unobstructed view of the city with its bright blue skies above us.

“Hey, baby, thought you’d be a no show.” I jump at the sound of Mickey’s voice suddenly at my ear.

“I told you I’d be here.” As I turn to face him, I can’t help giving a furtive glance around to make sure I don’t see anyone from work.

There isn’t a doubt in my mind that if any one of the secretaries were to spot me with Mickey, they would report back faster than I can say, rumor mill .

Not because I’m doing anything wrong, but so they have a subject to bring up at the coffee and pastries break before the work day even begins.

I’m not too keen on being the center of the conversation.

“Never know, you could’ve changed your mind.

Come on, let me show you everything I did for you.

” There’s a brief moment where I hesitate because Mickey’s words don’t sit well with me.

Maybe it’s because I’m still tired and missing my second and third cups of coffee, but I don’t hear a real apology coming from him.

In fact, I wonder if he’ll even bring it up.

“Mickey.” At my resistance, he turns and looks around, as though the reason I’m not following him is somehow written on the faces of the strangers around the fountain.

“Bo, come on. We’re going to be late.” Still not an apology.

“We need to talk about what happened Wednesday night.” I speak low, not wanting to cause a scene, but I can’t do this day with him without at least the promise of a conversation.

Mickey sighs like I’m ruining his fucking day, and maybe I am, but this is important.

“Can we just have a nice day? After that, we can talk your little heart out about anything you want.” Again, I hesitate. None of the words that just came out of his mouth guarantee an honest hash out of his assault.

And that’s what it was.

“Okay, fine. Show me your plans but promise me, right now, you’ll sit down and talk with me.” I’m still not moving even though he’s tugging on my hand.

“I promise.” We stand there looking at each other as I read his eyes, steady and clear. Then again, he’s always been a good liar.

But it’s fine. Second chances and all.

The day starts off with a mid-morning delight at the Boathouse. It feels fancier in the winter, like we’re privileged to be here.

The whole time, Mickey talks about the job, then poker nights with his friends, before settling on his advice on how to get the H2O founders to fall in love with me, which isn’t necessarily in our plans.

I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes, especially knowing that two weeks have passed and one of them barely speaks to me, the other is fucking psychotic, and Orion… well, he’s a good guy.

At least the cappuccino paired with a cranberry orange muffin was delicious.

On our way to Rockefeller Center for some late morning skating, I remember the rose he had delivered to my apartment, but just as I’m about to thank him for it, I feel the distinct sensation that someone is watching me.

Chances are, it’s this paranoia of being seen that’s making me feel on edge. I swear my spidey senses are on high alert, which is putting a damper on this outing.

Mickey decides we’re walking down to the skating rink, crossing the park and hitting up Fifth Avenue heading due south for half a mile. Our conversation turns easy, fluid, the way it has always been between us. After all, we’re just best friends—only friends—turned lovers.

There are too many years between us for me to sever the bond we’ve built, too many memories and intricate feelings that tie us together.

I love him, of course, I do, but I’m also angry at him for chipping away at that trust with his words and remarks then taking a huge chunk out by laying his hand on me in violence.

Still, the loyalty that’s been growing for the last twenty years isn’t easy to shed.

In fact, it feels downright impossible at this point.

So when he puts his arm around my shoulder, I can’t help the flinch.

“The fuck was that, Bo?” Of course he noticed.

“I’m still pissed off. A pastry and a coffee aren’t going to erase what you did.” Mickey has the decency to nod, acknowledging my anger.

“Yeah, I get that but, Bo, you’ll see. After today, you’ll forgive me.” I don’t answer. At this point, anything I say will be based on feelings alone. I want to see actions.

When we cross over to the Rockefeller Center, I’m surprised there aren’t more people there.

I’d anticipated a full house but this is nice.

It’s a Saturday morning, which means the bulk of the skaters is made up of bundled up kids falling on their butts more than standing upright.

Some parents are holding their hands, others are encouraging them to continue until their next fall.

This scene is a trigger for me. All these attentive mothers and sometimes fathers doting on their babies, showing love and patience with every outburst and river of tears when the ice hits their child’s rear end.

It’s beautiful and heartwarming but it tears my heart apart like the first time I was placed in a foster home.