Page 18 of The Fates We Tame

My phone vibrates, and I take it out of my back pocket.

There’s a picture.

Niro:Got some of the wedding photographs of me and Cat back.

I still can’t get over how Niro looks now. How his scar has healed over time. But he’s smiling. He’s wearing his cut over a white shirt and dress denim. Catalina wears white trousers and vest. The woman’s got muscle in those arms.

There’s another photograph of Catalina in a white leather cut. It fits her like a glove. Even the patches are white with black writing. Not sure I’ve ever seen a white wedding cut before.

Clutch tried to explain to me how Cat kidnapped Niro and then saved him from himself and how the club created a special role for her. I still don’t have an opinion on that, although I apparently voted in favor.

There’s a third photograph of them, really fucking happy, standing in the sunshine in a town square. There’s a little girl in a white dress with colorful flowers in her hair, and she’s looking up at them, smiling.

Comments start to flood in beneath.

Vex. Clutch. King. Halo.

Saint, whom I don’t remember, makes some comment about Bates having shaved. So, I guess the man stood next to Niro is Bates, which means the woman must be…shit…I was told her name.

A flower, maybe.

Now I’m confused. I sort of know who they are but don’t. It’s hard to explain what the void of a decade feels like.

But I feel it in this photograph.

I type some suitable message, then finish my cigarette.

As I’m stubbing it out, I notice my sneaker is undone, so I bend down to tie it.

“That was too easy,” a man says with that New York Italian lilt.

“You think she bought it?” I can see their shoes beneath the car next to me.

I have no idea what makes me think of staying crouched, but there’s a voice down inside me saying I should do just that.

It feels imperative.

Instinct, maybe.

“We can work on her over the next few days.”

I’m being a fucking idiot. God knows why I’m crouched here. I hear car doors slam, and I stand. From my position by the dumpster, I see it was Sophia’s brothers.

That was too easy.

You think she bought it?

“None of your business,” I mutter to myself.

I try convincing myself of that as I walk all the way back into the center.

“Irv,” I say, tipping my forehead at the security guard. He’s eating some of the cookie surplus I dropped off earlier.

“Won’t be the first to sneak out for a cigarette,” he says. “But I suggest you change that hoodie so the bigwigs don’t smell the smoke and know you broke the rules. You do that, and I won’t tell anyone you went out the fire door.”

I grin at him. “Thanks for the tip.”

As I hit the stairs, my eye starts to twitch and go blurry. When this happened the other day, I passed out, and in self-preservation, I climb to the first flat surface and sit down.