Page 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

KEIRA

DISCO - Nessa Barrett, Tommy Genesis

T he sterile white office is more unsettling than being shoved in the back of a van at gunpoint. It smells of disinfectant and cheap perfume that wafts behind the receptionist as she leads us to the doctor's office. The chair is uncomfortable, and I shift back and forth, trying to settle in before the doctor arrives. Harkin’s hand lands on my knee.

“Why are you so nervous?”

“That obvious, huh?” I huff out.

“The only time I ever see you this unsettled is when my head’s between your thighs teasing your delicious cunt.”

“Harkin!” I admonish, looking around the office for the camera.

“Just trying to break some of the tension.” He laughs.

Before I can scold him for his help, the office door opens, and a plump older gentleman in a traditional white lab coat steps in. “Ms. Fitzpatrick, I apologize for running a bit behind. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. Can I get you something to drink?” he asks, pointing at the small fridge beside his desk.

“No, thank you.”

“Alright. Let’s get down to business then, shall we?” he asks, sitting behind his well-organized desk.

We go over the surgery that will have me under anesthesia, the risks to me, and the benefits it could mean for my niece. He’s familiar with her case, and shockingly, Alina has permitted him to discuss her prognosis with us. I ask the obnoxiously long list of questions I’ve had saved in my phone for weeks, which includes how quickly I’ll feel like myself again. After signing some paperwork and looking at his calendar, we schedule the procedure for two weeks from today.

“Do you feel better now?” Harkin asks as we sit down at the restaurant for a late lunch.

“About the surgery, yes. I just wish Domenico would reach out and let us know when the damn meeting is supposed to be. Patrick told us he already set it, so what’s taking him so long?”

“Maybe he’s keeping you out of it?”

I shoot daggers in his direction. We both know that won’t be the case. Plus, now that I’ve met Patrick, I’m more curious to see how he reacts when introduced to his granddaughters. Will he let on that we’re already acquainted, or will he play it calm and collected?

The server halts our conversation to take our orders. The restaurant is quiet, with only a handful of patrons taking up booths around the ample space. When she retreats toward the kitchen, I continue.

“Patrick was tight-lipped about the whole meeting but wouldn’t shut up when it came to my mom. That man gave me whiplash.”

“I suspect he was trying to gain your confidence and see if you knew anything about Domenico. Maybe suss out if you were spying for him.”

“How wrong he’d be, then.”

Our food arrives, and I take advantage of the distraction. I let my mind wander, wondering why these men don’t handle their shit head-on. Why all the games and back and forth, using women to gain a foothold? Then again, they’re kings of their own making, fighting over pieces on the map. Maybe using women is right on the mark, after all.

“You know, there was something you said during the meeting that I haven’t been able to get out of my head,” he says, breaking through my haze.

“What was it?”

“That you don’t want kids.”

His statement catches me off guard. The subject of kids has never come up between us, other than the possibility that he may have had one with my lovely sister. I choke on my half-swallowed bite of salad.

“Uhh, yeah. I mean, I can’t imagine having kids. A year ago, I was living in a shitty apartment, working a dead-end job, stalking a man I’d been watching online for so long I’d fallen in love with him, and that was bad enough. Now, well, shit. Life’s even more fucked up and messy. I’m nowhere near happy, healthy, or stable enough to bring a child into this world. Especially when there’s a possibility I could end up as my mother did.”

Harkin’s fork clatters loudly onto his plate. “What happened to your mother will never happen to you. Do you understand me?”

My eyes soften at his declaration. “You don’t know that. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place. We can only do our best to survive against the odds. What right do I have bringing a child into it?”

The air around him shifts as he watches me intently, taking in the sentiment of what I’ve just said. It seems this topic isn’t as cut and dry for Harkin as it is for me. He’s never once let on that kids between us was something on his mind.

He’s enough for me, but does he feel the same?

My phone vibrates, startling me from my morose question. Pulling it free from my back pocket, I don’t recognize the number but answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello, mio cuore.”

“Domenico.”

“Are you ready to earn your boyfriend’s father’s freedom?”

“When?” I keep it short, my tone stiff with indifference.

“Saturday. Noon. The pub at pier eighty-three. Don’t be late, and bring your lapdog.”

The line goes dead before I can confirm our attendance.

“Looks like we have a meeting to attend this Saturday. Think he’ll bring your father?” I ask Harkin.

“I don’t believe a word that comes out of that man’s mouth at this rate. I’m not even banking on the fact that he’s alive anymore.”

I hate that it’s a possibility. Not that what happened to Harkin’s father falls on us in the slightest. He got himself and his business into this mess long before pulling us in to save his ass. Even if he is alive and Domenico hands him over, he’s still wanted for his white-collar crimes. After his experience being held by Domenico and tortured by his men, he’d probably look forward to a minimum-security prison.

“Speaking of your family, have you checked on your mom lately? How’s she doing?”

“There’s no contact with the patients for the first sixty days. Her doctor says she’s sober, but it’s been rough. I think the psychiatrist is working overtime to sort through everything with her. I hope it sticks, but at the same time, it’s not like she can be completely truthful about everything.”

“If he walks away from this, what do you think they’ll do?” I ask, genuinely curious about how the other half deals with their issues.

“Disappear to a country somewhere with no extradition treaty with the US. Would he bother with my mom? Fuck if I know.”

“Can I get you guys anything else?” the waitress interrupts.

“No, thank you. Just the check, please.”

Harkin doesn’t wait for the waitress to return, dropping a stack of bills on the table. “I don’t want to worry about any of that right now. We have bigger things on our plate.”

It’s an odd feeling living life day-to-day without much of a purpose. There’s no more work, no running errands—shit, I don’t even clean the apartment. Now that we’re back in the city, Harkin’s fallen into his norm. Things seem to get done, and I’m pulling out my hair from boredom. There’s only so much working out and scrolling through socials a girl can do. I feel more cooped up here in the city than I did in hiding in Colorado.

The meeting is in forty-eight hours. Harkin and James have hardly come up for air. I gave up trying to piece together what Domenico might drop on us there. Even our best guess could still be wrong. What’s the point of wasting energy just to chase our tails?

I run my fingers through Cinder’s thick fur as we sit on the couch and watch the drizzly day from our glass box.

“You know, I never thought I’d want to leave the city, but I miss the mountains. I bet you do, too.” I give her an extra scratch behind the ears. Unfolding my legs from under me, I stand and walk to the windows overlooking the street below.

People mill about below, moving from one thing to another. I’m jealous of their ability to do so freely. I’m sure they’re all saddled with mundane worries, like what to make for dinner or how to pay that overdue bill. I suppose in that way, I’m lucky. Even without a job, money hasn’t crossed my mind.

I’ve somehow become a kept woman without realizing it. That thought alone shocks me into a mental spiral. One so deep I don’t hear his footsteps approach. When strong arms band around my waist, and a scratchy chin settles in the crook of my neck, he pulls me into his hard chest.

“There you are,” he says softly.

I let out a huff of laughter. “Where else would I be?”

He must hear the tinge of annoyance in my words. I’m spun quickly and pushed against the cool glass. “What do you mean by that, sweetness?”

His eyes fill with concern, and that’s the last thing we need when everything else is concerning on a nuclear level.

“It’s nothing important.”

“Everything about you is important to me. Spit it out.”

“I’m dying.”

At my statement, his eyebrows crease. Words pursed at the tip of his tongue as his mouth falls open.

“Of boredom, Harkin. I’m tired of being stuck inside. Of having nothing to do.”

He studies me before saying, “You want out of the apartment.”

“I don’t think your leash would let me get very far.”

His lips quirk into a playful smile. “While that image is extremely tempting, I think we can figure something out. If it was a year ago before we met and all this wasn’t spinning in your orbit, what would you have done to blow off some steam?”

A time before Harkin isn’t one I tend to rekindle. Because even a year ago, before we’d officially met, he was still in my life. Thinking about his question, it dawns on me. “Live music,” I tell him.

A memory of Harkin storming into the dive bar to play protector pulls to the forefront of my mind. That night changed everything for us. If it wasn’t for a drunken call and a man who couldn’t let shit go, we might not be here today.

“With Stacey and lots of alcohol,” I finish up.

“I think I might regret this,” he says before yelling, “James” out into the apartment.

Heavy footfalls speed down the hall until James enters the living room.

“What?” he asks, ready to dive headfirst into whatever trouble has popped up in the last ten minutes since Harkin left him.

“Call Stacey. We’re taking the girls out tonight.”