20. Mick
Mick
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
“ I ’m going to be a father?”
Carmela stands her ground near the door, hands folded protectively over her round belly. She nods, eyes hard as steel as she awaits my reaction, no doubt ready for me to tell her she can’t keep it.
Standing from the bed, I slowly walk to her. The closer I get, the easier it is to see the tears shining in her beautiful onyx eyes. She’s glowing. Pregnancy agrees with her.
Something uncurls in my chest, a hunger I’ve never known before—a need to stake my claim and let everyone know that this breathtaking woman is carrying my child.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out, tiny dancer?” All the things I missed rush through my mind like a slideshow. When she found out. The first ultrasound. Finding out the sex of the baby.
Has she already painted a room for the nursery? Which room will she put the baby in? Has she picked a name ?
Whose last name will the baby have?
Carmela breathes in a shuddered breath, tears falling in slow paths down her rosy cheeks. “You made a choice, Mick. You chose her .”
I never wanted to. It was a choice I wasn’t allowed to make.
If I could go back and do everything over again, I’d choose the woman in front of me in a heartbeat.
She sucks in a breath and looks down, hands splayed over her stomach as a smile stretches her lips. “What is it? Is everything okay?”
Nodding, she beams at me. “She kicked.”
She.
A daughter.
“Can I feel?” My hand stretches out before she can answer, connecting with the thin material of her shirt. Time stops as a series of little jolts beat against my hand.
“Ooof!” Carmela inhales sharply, making a sound of surprise. “She’s never been this active before.”
I step into her, bracing my other hand on her lower back. This could be my reality every single day: me, her, and our baby girl.
A happy little family.
The little feet continue to kick against my hand, and when I pull away, Carmela relaxes. “I don’t think she likes you very much.” She laughs, not understanding the impact her words have on me.
I’m getting married. That is the reality I chose. I knew it the whole time, and still, selfishly, I pulled Carmela into my orbit. After our first night together, I never wanted to let her go. I was ready to put an end to my engagement and give up politics. But that wasn’t the only thing I’d be giving up.
I’m a selfish man—used to living a certain lifestyle.
After all, it’s technically my parents’ money that bought the house in Jersey—a chunk of my inheritance. When they asked where it went, I lied and said I put it into a shell corporation for future campaigns.
I don’t want to give up my luxurious life.
Especially now that I have a kid to pay for.
“I don’t want anything from you,” Carmela’s voice cuts through my inner musings. “I’ve made it this far. I’ll be fine on my own. I just wanted you to know that you have a daughter.”
I let out a soft snort. “You didn’t want me to know, Mellie. Be honest. You’d never have told me had you not run into Scott.”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks down in shame. The corner of her mouth twitches as her lips purse. She doesn’t say anything for a long time before, finally, she states softly, “I thought you’d come back. But you never did.”
Gathering her into my arms, I hold her as she starts to cry. Possessiveness runs through me—a river of warmth—as she clings to me. “Why did you leave me, Mick? Why did you bring me into this messed up world?” she sobs against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I say against the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, Mellie. But I promise you, I’ll never let you go again.”
It’s so selfish.
And when she looks up at me with hopeful eyes, tears still clinging to her thick lashes, I know she’s mistaken my words. “Promise you’ll never let us go, Mick. Promise me you’ll always be here for her.”
She doesn’t understand the severity of her pleas, but even though I do, I still lean down and press my lips against hers, nodding into our kiss as her hurried hands begin to peel my shirt from my skin. “I promise, tiny dancer. I’ll never let you go.”
Present
“Soon.” The word hangs in the air between us. A promise that she doesn’t mean. I can already see Carmela working out a way in that beautiful head of hers—a way to keep the truth from our daughter as long as possible.
“I know I’ve broken a lot of promises to you, Mellie. And I know it’s a shitty thing of me to ask.” Especially after I bombarded you with the request to stay off the birth certificate directly after you gave birth. “But I really want things to change. This term will be my last–”
“The first time you ran should have been your last, Mick,” she interrupts. “When you lost the first time, you could have honored your promise to us then. Instead, you kept choosing to further your career. Please don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’m smart enough not to fall for this again.” Every word is like an ice-cold dagger to my heart.
“Mellie, I love you,” I tell her passionately because I mean it with every fiber of my being. “She’s only fourteen. It isn’t too late for us to be a family.”
Carmela’s hands rest on her hips, bracing herself for a fight. “It’s too late for me, Mick. I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “When all of this is over, we can discuss sitting her down to tell her.”
“Okay,” I agree with a curt nod. She says it’s too late but I know it’s only because the detective is clouding her judgment. She loves me. She’s loved me since the night we met.
When all of this is over, Anderson Brooks will be gone, and I will have Carmela back in the palm of my hand.
A few more weeks is a small price to pay for the rest of our lives.