Chapter 25
Seven months later
“But Spencer was mean,so I punched him.”
Gia scowls, folding her arms, sitting in time out on the bench where her Sensei told her to go for ten minutes.
“You are not in karate to punch people.” I squat to her level, scolding with the voice she used to listen to. “You’re here to learn to defend yourself. Do it again, and no more karate.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re mean all the time.”
“Gia Ana?s, speak to me respectfully and behave, or you will lose screen time for a month, too.”
What the fuck has gotten into my daughter? She’s gone from a cute little ninja to an angry punching nightmare.
“But Spencer started it!” she protests. “He said you and Ms. Maren are getting married. But I said you’re married to my mommy in heaven, and he said that’s dumb! Dead people aren’t married.”
That logic hits hard. I love my daughter but hate my life. All I do lately is go through the motions and put out little Gia fires all day.
A tap on my shoulder turns my chin.
“Got a minute?”
It’s Abbey, fighting her grin.
“Gia,” I turn back to her, “you have eight more minutes. And you will behave and you will apologize to Spencer, Ms. Maren, and your Sensei for your behavior. Understood?”
She glares at me, so I raise my eyebrow.
“Yes, Baba.” She sounds so thrilled.
“What the fuck has gotten into her?” I side-whisper to Abbey once we have some distance.
As usual, the dojo is packed—more than ever, it seems. I don’t recognize some faces and some I can’t see because it’s so crowded.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Abbey laughs. “Luca, it’s Parenting 101.”
“What?”
“Gia’s pissed about you being up Maren’s ass all the time. And quite frankly, I feel like punching dicks about it, too.”
I glance across the dojo, wincing at the red face of Spencer, still huffing tears with an ice pack over his little pecker. I’d be proud of Gia for standing up for herself, but… Maren’s son? Really? Of all pricks to punch?
Everyone, please, line up to fuck my life, but be warned. The wait is long.
“I’m not up Maren’s ass,” I growl, and Abbey snorts, swiping my nose before I bat her hand away. “What are you doing?”
“She left a little shit on your tip.”
“I’m not ass-diving anyone, thank you very much.”
“Speaking of,” Abbey keeps rolling, “have you heard from Zar? From Scarlett?”
Even though Abbey always pisses me off so much that I laugh, this subject’s not funny.
“Sorry,” Abbey mutters. “Too soon?”
“Never will be the right time.”
I let that hang in the air while I fight the sudden clench of my heart.
I see Zar every weekday for work. That’s it. He’s relaxed and aloof, and it hurts because he’s made it clear. If Scarlett’s not with me, he’s not with me.
But I know he doesn’t hate me. He gave me the biggest gift I never asked for this July Fourth, on the fifth anniversary. It was like Zar gave me a silent ultimatum to change for Gia’s sake.
So I’m trying.
And Scarlett?
I think of her all the time, then force myself not to. Her collar and hair clip lie beside the cologne on my dresser. I make myself see them every day, then look away.
It’s different when you lose someone who’s still alive. When you love them, and they hate you. It’s almost as bad as them dying because that’s how I feel without Scarlett. Dead inside.
I know it’s been hard on Gia, too, so I’m trying to live a normal life, hoping it will feel right one day.
I glance again at Maren. She’s shaking her head my way, so I mouth “sorry,” and she gives me a soft shrug like she understands.
“And that’s why Gia’s a holy terror lately.” But Abbey catches me. “You’re playing house with Maren, and you’re a hemorrhoid about it. Scarlett and Zar kept you from being a real pain in the ass, but, hmmm, for some strange reason, they’re not around, and your assholery has swollen to epic proportions.”
“God,” I huff. “Your husband needs to sail home and give you some back-door boogie because ass is all you think about.”
“Back-door boogie?” She chuckles. “What is this? The 70s?” She elbows me. “Yes, I need John to come home and bury his bone in my backyard, but we’re talking about your bitchy dog right now and it ain’t Gia.”
Maren may behave like a saint with me, but Abbey still swears she’s the devil.
The Sensei claps once. “Gia,” he calls, and she stands, bowing to him. But then I catch her fighting not to roll her eyes while she makes a dramatic show of going over, stoically shaking Spencer’s hand, then Maren’s.
Gia’s so genuine, it’s fake and Abbey snorts. “She’s just like her.”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
Scarlett sees Gia every Sunday. Abbey takes her, and I stay home. But every Saturday night, I walk alone through the French Quarter.
I walk by Delta’s and remember. I walk to the park beside Scarlett’s building, and it’s empty. I walk around to the side of her building where her balcony is. I stand out of the lamplight, letting shadows cloak me while I watch. Because every Saturday night, she’s there on her balcony. She’s too far away for me to see much, but it’s enough.
I still spend my Saturday nights with Scarlett.
“She’s lost a lot of weight,” Abbey laments.
“I know.”
“You’ve seen her?”
I don’t confess about my weekly watching. No, I debrief her on official business. “We had a security meeting last week, and Scarlett was there. Her boss and colleagues, too.”
“Why?” Abbey sounds worried.
“Because Brooke Turner was released on parole this week.”
“Your stalker?” Abbey asks, “Does that mean Scarlett’s coming back?”
Long ago, Abbey figured out Scarlett was not my assistant. Of course, my protective sister-in-law looked her up and found Scarlett’s title fights on YouTube.
“No,” I answer. “They don’t think Brooke’s as much of a threat as before. Her husband’s ranch is in foreclosure. Their life is in a scandal, so hopefully, she’s learned. But, just in case, we have security on the elevator again. And Charlie, Scarlett’s boss, is searching for another woman Gia will trust.”
“Luca,” Abbey groans, “just get Scarlett back. You know you want to. You know you miss her.”
“She told me to leave, so I moved on,” I tell her. “It’s what you told me to do, for Gia’s sake, right?”
Abbey can hear my tone. I’m not fucking around. I’m not in the mood. I’m not a Dom or a man trying to control. I’m just trying to be the father Gia needs, even if doing the right thing feels so wrong.
“Well,” Maren appears beside us, “that was more drama for the day.”
Abbey steps away on my left while Maren closes in on my right.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’ve spoken with Gia. She’s just going through a phase.”
“It’s been a very long phase.” Maren’s voice strains with judgment. “I’ve tried so hard with her. Spencer, too. But Gia tries my patience. She’s acting like a?—”
“And that’s what parents do,” Abbey jumps in. “You use your patience, and you deal with it. You don’t get a goddamn trophy for being the mature adult you’re supposed to be.”
Oh fuck, Abbey’s defending her niece, and oh fuck, Maren’s going to be pissed.
I’m caught in estrogen crossfire.
“Yes, of course,” Maren answers tersely. “I’m a good mother, a good woman. I know all about patience.” Resting her hand on my arm, she eases. “Luca, let’s bake cookies with the kids tonight. Let’s go to the market after class and get a bunch of icing. They can decorate together and get along just fine. It’ll be perfect.”
Abbey nudges my arm, and I flick my eyes at her.
When Abbey shakes her head no like that, she looks exactly like Darby. Like in one silent gesture, she’s seething, “Oh, hell-to-the-no. I do NOT approve.”
But this is me. This is the life I’m trying to have. I’m not happy, and Gia certainly hates it, but at least I’m trying to have a future.
I’ve learned some painful, lonely lessons lately. I’m using my power to fix the past, at least what I can. I’m secretly trying to make some wrongs right.
The proof?
I’m not wearing my wedding band anymore.