Epilogue
REID
“Daddy, will you show us the shark bite scar?” My eldest daughter rushes into the lounge where I’m sitting with Callie and the baby, followed by my eldest son.
We’re at our house by the sea, and one of my favourite things to do with the kids is swim, so they’ve seen my tattoos and my scars.
At the main house in Woodford, we have a swimming pool for them to play in and learn to swim, and we sometimes stay at our house near the renovated hospital right now.
The same one that I moved into when Callie and I first met. The best investment I ever made.
But we both agree that getting out of the city regularly is good for all of us.
Callie’s still a nurse, and I’m still a mafia boss. Some things don’t change, and Callie is also on the board of the hospital after we funded the renovation of the hospital in Woodford rather than building a new one. For sentimental reasons, really.
“Oh yes, the shark bite scar.” Callie’s smile is teasing as she looks over at me.
She thinks it’s hilarious that I make up new stories for my scars for the kids. They’re fascinated by them, and love my ever-changing stories. We’re relaxing together at our house by the sea in a family trip while the kids are off school.
Me included, since Jack has been taking on more and more of the duties of the Woodford mafia.
“Pleeeeassee, Daddy?” My daughter, Jasmine, leaps onto the sofa between Callie and me, and bounces on all fours with enthusiasm.
Nevin is quieter than his sister. Less impulsive. He comes to sit next to me, big eyes so like his mother’s. But he’s serious like me, even though he looks just like Callie. “I want the real reason you got that scar this time.”
His scowl is adorable.
“Nothing but the truth,” I lie easily, as I unbutton my shirt and shrug off one sleeve so they can examine the scar that means they’re here.
The one that meant I met Callie. I’ll tell my kids about what dirty business I do, but not right now.
Not for years yet. And I really don’t want to fuck this up.
My children are everything to me, along with my wife, and I’ll do anything to protect them all. My family.
“See I told you it’s jagged around the edge,” says Jasmine to her brother. “Teeth marks.”
“Hmm.” Nevin narrows his eyes. “I think it’s smooth. If it were shark teeth, why is it smooth?” He’s getting sceptical. Even though Jasmine just enjoys the stories I tell, my boy is looking more for the truth and less to be entertained.
“Tell us the story, Dad,” prompts Jasmine and she twitches with anticipation.
“Well, it all happened when I met your mother,” I say. “It was at the hospital.”
Callie’s eyes go wide, and I repress a smile.
“I was there because I had a terrible growth on my arm. It was long, and almost like a tentacle.” I wave my fingers like they’re tentacles at Jasmine and Nevin. Nevin flinches away, scowling, but Jasmine giggles and tries to catch my hand in her little ones.
“Your mother helped me get rid of the hideous tentacles that dug into my skin when I was swimming in the sea.”
“What does hideous mean?” Nevin asks promptly. He’s smart, my boy. Always asking questions.
“Ugly. Really ugly.”
“What colour was it?”
“They.” I point at the two circular scars on my arm. “They were red.”
I’ve never tattooed over those scars, because they’re so precious to me.
They were tended by Callie, and if it weren’t for that gunshot wound, I’d still be lonely in the world.
Possibly even in a marriage of convenience, and though they have turned out well for the majority of Londoners who made the sacrifice and joined with parts of the Essex Cartel, I know I wouldn’t have been happy.
The only person I could love is Callie. The only person who could touch me.
Though I was relieved to find our kids are also an exception.
When I first picked up Jasmine, a tiny pink bundle with big blue eyes, I had the urge to crush her to my chest because she was so perfect and I was happier than I’d ever been.
Content that I’d found my purpose—being her father.
“How did they get them off you, Daddy?” Jasmine has her hands over her mouth in delighted disgust.
“The only way was to burn off the tentacles.”
“Ooo!” Jasmine bounces excitedly. “Did it hurt, Daddy?”
Behind her, Callie has moved our baby to a safe distance from the excited seven year old, and is feeding him. My heart is distracted by the tender scene, as is my cock by the sight of her naked breast as our baby has his meal.
“Not at first. They gave me pain killers.” We’re back to something like the truth here. “And your mum was really gentle with me, just as she is with you.”
Nevin nods at this. It makes sense.
“And that’s why they’re circular,” Jasmine says.
“What did you do with the bits they burnt off?” Nevin asks.
I raise my eyebrows. “You know the breadsticks you like so much?”
“Ewww!” Jasmine throws herself onto my lap in protest.
“That’s not true.” Nevin’s brows are puckered. “Because we eat breadsticks a lot. And they’re bread.”
“Yes, that’s not true,” I admit.
“Daddy, how did you really get your scars?” Nevin asks. “Seriously.”
Jasmine is distracted by telling Callie how gross it is that we eat tentacles. I must take the kids to a seafood restaurant. They’d love calamari.
I look at my little son, and I can see in his face what a good leader of Woodford he’ll be one day. How he won’t hesitate to do what needs to be done. How I’ll teach him to be kind and fair and decisive, and to insist on the truth.
But not yet.
“I told you,” I say innocently. “They were from burning off the tentacles.”
Fancy a little more? Get a short story of Reid and Callie first thing the next morning.