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Death never comes when you’re ready for it. It doesn’t knock; it doesn’t wait. One moment, life is normal. The next, it’s in ruins—unknown

“Do you think it ever gets easier?” I asked, twirling my coffee cup and watching the steam dance. “Missing someone who’s alive but no longer here, I mean.”

Hazel lifted her beautifully arched brow. “It depends on who you’re missing and why.” She narrowed her eyes on me. “Are you missing an ex?”

I huffed. “You wish. I miss my mom.”

It’d been three months since she moved to Oregon, and it’d been hard to adjust from seeing her every day to only speaking to her on calls and emails. I missed her coffee, her omelets, and her warm hugs on gloomy afternoons. I’d never thought the day would come when I wouldn’t see my mother for this long.

Hazel threw a piece of carrot into her mouth. “Oregon is only six hours away, Gigi. You can always visit her.”

I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the flavors of the full cream milk and honey. “You’re right. Maybe I’ll move to Oregon soon. I’ll need a better job to afford my flight ticket and art school.”

Hazel’s eyes gleamed. “Art school? You’ve not given up that dream, have you?”

Giving up my dream of becoming an artist would mean giving up on life itself. I put the dream on hold for a while so that I could get a degree in psychology. Now that I had finished college, I intended to pursue becoming an artist with all I had.

I’d found a job at a new art gallery a couple of weeks after graduating from college. The pay wasn’t great, but I was happy to be surrounded by such beautiful paintings and creativity. Whenever I looked at the artworks hidden behind display glass and hanging on the walls, all I could think about was how I would have the chance to display mine like that someday. People would pay to see my talent, and they’d be happy doing so. I could already feel the immense joy it would bring me to see people find delight in my creative skills.

I didn’t realize I was smiling until I caught my reflection on the glass door to my right.

“Good luck on that, girl,” Hazel said as she reached for her strawberry and banana smoothie. “You know I’ll always support you.”

“I know, Haze,” I replied, tapping her nose softly.

She groaned as she sipped on her smoothie. “This tastes really good,” she said, setting the glass back on the table. “You should try it sometime.”

I peered at the healthier option sitting in that fancy glass, all pretty and pink. Unlike Hazel, I didn’t always go for the healthier option; I preferred whatever I thought tasted better, and in this case, that was heavy-creamed coffee and a croissant. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

She shook her head and went back to chewing on her Caesar salad. “Have you spoken to your dad lately? You never talk about him.”

My shoulder sagged, a sad sigh leaving my lips before I could stop it. I hated talking about my father, not because I hated him—I loved him just as much as I did my mother. It was just…things between us were really complicated in a way.

Before his very brief visit last night, it had been six months since I last saw him.

I remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was my twenty-second birthday and the day of my graduation. I could still picture the tears trailing down my face as I hugged my mother. I’d been happy to see her, but my chest ached from missing my dad, too.

My parents had been divorced for years because my mom couldn’t handle his complicated dealings with the Russian mafia. She used to panic whenever he was running late or when the phone rang late in the evening. Every knock on the door early in the morning made her dread each step she took to answer, as it could either be my dad coming home exhausted or the police arriving to announce his death.

She’d endured, but one day, she decided she couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t just Dad’s safety she was worried about; it was ours, too—hers and mine—and what would happen if he messed with the wrong people.

When she asked for a divorce, Dad granted it without trying to convince her to stay. He must have had the same fear as her. He’d given her the house and half of his assets, and he never faltered on child support until I was twenty-one and done with college.

Their divorce was hard on me. I’d been only fourteen, and it felt like hell watching my parents go from a loving couple to strangers. Everything changed after. My mom still resented Dad, and I barely ever saw him again.

I’d not expected to see him on that day, too—my birthday and graduation.

But he’d been there.

A smile pulled on my face as the memories of him striding up to me with a bouquet of roses and his arms wide open for a hug infiltrated my mind. I’d run up to him at the speed of light, throwing my arms around him and inhaling his scent. Dad always smelled like tobacco and citrus, and God, had I missed him—even more than I missed Mom….

My phone buzzed in my tote bag, pulling me from my thoughts.

Both Hazel and I flinched, startled by the sudden ringing.

“Jesus, that almost gave me a heart attack.” Hazel clutched her chest and exhaled while I rummaged for the phone.

After what felt like an eternity, I found it buried beneath a stack of books I always carried. My mom’s number flashed on my screen, and a smile spread across my face. “I’m sorry, it’s my mom. Just give me a second.”

Hazel nodded. “Sure.”

I answered the phone. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, baby.” Mom’s voice was high-pitched and tinged with excitement. “How are you doing today?”

I leaned back in my chair, pinning my gaze on nothing in particular and imagining Mom’s wide smile where she was. “I’m good. I’m out for lunch with Hazel.”

“How is Hazel? I loved it when you used to bring that girl home for dinner,” Mom said. “Is she okay?”

“She’s good, too. We were talking about how much I miss you and Dad.”

I could practically feel Mom’s smile drop over the phone.

“Honey,” she started, her tone dropping, “have you spoken to your dad lately?”

“Um….” Mom would be mad if I told her Dad was over at my place the previous night, but I couldn’t lie to her about it. She’d be even more upset if she found out I hid his visit. “Well…Mom, promise me you won’t be mad.”

She paused. “You know I can’t promise until I hear what you have to say.”

“Right.” My mother would never fall for that. Those tricks hadn’t worked when I was younger, and they weren’t going to work now. “Dad was at my place yesterday, but before you get angry at him, he only came because I asked him to.”

There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the line. I knew Mom must be furious. I could imagine her breathing heavily, steam billowing from her ears.

“Mom, are you there?”

“Baby, you know why I told you to stay away from your father,” Mom finally answered. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. She was a lot calmer about the situation than I expected.

“I know.” I stirred my coffee to keep myself from getting too emotional. I knew my mother still loved my dad very much, but at some point, she had to make a choice between staying with the man she loved and keeping us safe. She chose the latter. “I just missed him.”

“Honey, I miss your father, too. I really do.” She sniffled, and I wondered if she was crying. She did that sometimes. I would find her in her room, sobbing, with a picture of my dad in her arms. Anyone would think he was dead. “But your father chose his job and those people over us. He refused to leave, even when he knew it was dangerous and we could get hurt.”

“Mom—”

“You have to promise me, Giselle,” she said, cutting me off. “Promise me you’ll keep your distance from him.”

My chest constricted, and my throat tightened. I loved my mother so much, but what she was asking for was impossible.

I didn’t care if my father was a thug or even the worst man to walk this planet. I loved him, and I wanted to be around him as much as I could. “I can’t make that promise, Mom.”

“Giselle—”

“I know what you’re scared of, but you should know Dad would never do anything to hurt me or put me in danger. He wouldn’t come if someone was following him or something.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not your father I’m worried about.” She inhaled, still sniffling. “It’s those people he works with. They can’t be trusted. I’m afraid they’ll come for you or him or me if he makes a single mistake.”

I didn’t care if they came for me. I didn’t give a shit if my life was hanging by a thread; I would still choose my father every single time. It was enough that I didn’t have him around most of my childhood, but I wasn’t going to turn him away now.

“Mom.” My voice cracked, and a part of my soul was bleeding because I knew she was right to feel that way, but I couldn’t make that promise to her. “Dad will be fine. I’ll be fine, too. You don’t have to worry. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

She was sobbing quietly, and it broke my heart to hear her whimpering over the phone. “I’m sorry for being too emotional. I love you, Gigi.”

“I love you, too, Mom. I’ll call you again when I’m home, okay?”

“Okay.”

She hung up.

I tossed my phone on the table. My fingers hovered over the phone still, and my throat tightened as I fought back emotions.

“Is everything okay?” Hazel asked, her face marred with concern. “You look really sad right now.”

“Yeah.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and lifted my coffee to my mouth. It was lukewarm now, making it taste even creamier. “She’s worried my dad’s business will end up putting me in harm’s way.”

She gave me a pitiful look. “Is it always like this with your parents?”

I drew in a breath, trying to act as unaffected as possible. “Not always. Mom goes ballistic whenever she finds out Dad came around. She’s been that way since they divorced.”

“You can’t blame her, though; she’s only worried because she cares about you.” Hazel stares at me intently. “You’ll be fine. You’re one of the toughest people I know.”

“Can you blame me?” I forced a smile that didn’t meet my eyes. “Mobster dads have that effect.”

She chuckled. “Tell me about it. When I was younger, I used to think mobster dads were very cool. They always looked badass.”

“Yeah, seems that way when it’s not your reality,” I muttered as I peered outside.

It was a beautiful sunny Saturday morning in New York City. The streets were buzzing with people and cars, and the sky was the bluest I’d ever seen. That was when it occurred to me that I was missing something very important—a memory I would cherish forever.

“What are you thinking?” Hazel asked, dragging my attention back to the present.

“I’m thinking I’ve never had a date with my dad. We didn’t even have a daddy-daughter dance when I went to prom at sixteen.”

Hazel leaned over the table, her hazel-green eyes glistening. “So, you want to ask your dad out on a date?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

My conversation with Mom evoked something in me. I always knew how dangerous my dad’s job was, but it never occurred to me until now how valid her fear was. What if I never saw him again? What if the next time I saw him would be the last?

A shiver ran down my spine, and suddenly, my scalp prickled with terror. I needed to make a bucket list of things that I wanted to do with him. Mom was in Oregon now, and she wouldn’t know I met up with him if no one snitched.

“Perfect,” Hazel exclaimed. “Do you have any idea where you’d want to go with him?”

I shook my head. “I’m thinking of one of the fancy restaurants in the city. We can go fishing, too, and maybe he’d teach me how to shoot a gun.”

Honestly, anything was fine as long as I got to spend some time with him.

My phone bleeped with an incoming message from my dad. “Are we psychics or something? I think my parents know we’re gossiping about them. Guess who just texted?”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my phone from the table, but it rang just as I was about to open his message.

Hazel leaned back in her seat. “Is that him calling?”

“No. It’s an unknown number.” I peered at my phone for a few seconds longer than necessary, my heartbeat speeding up as time seemed to slow around me. Something about this call sent a ripple of dread through my veins. It was the only explanation for how I felt, and I knew if I picked up the phone, I’d regret it.

“Won’t you answer it?”

I swallowed hard enough to push down the lump in my throat and swiped on the screen, ignoring my internal protests. At first, I didn’t speak; I just listened.

“Hello?” a gravelly voice said on the other end of the line. “Am I speaking to Giselle Rae?”

I listened for any familiarity with the voice, but there was none. I recognized only his Russian accent, and I could already guess that it was one of the people Dad worked with.

My fingers grew cold around my phone, and I clutched it tighter. My pulse picked up, and my heart thudded against my ribcage in anticipation of what was to come.

Something was wrong.

Dad wouldn’t let the men he worked with call me otherwise.

“Yes, you’re speaking to Giselle Rae,” I muttered. “Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, devushka,” he said in that thick Russian accent. “Your father was murdered this afternoon.”

And just like that, the blue sky turned grey, and my world went dark.