Chapter 6
Dominic
Two and a half years ago …
Since we’ve been cooped up inside for the past two days because of the rain, I figured a walk to the store was in order. The sun’s out, and Lil’ Peach loves to get out and explore, well, as much as a six-month-old can.
Her big brown eyes dart everywhere, soaking up every sound, every colour, every face.
She flaps her arms, lets out delighted coos, and grabs at the air with her tiny fists.
She’s so damn inquisitive, just like Violet used to be before her world got tainted by all the wrong things.
Back when my sister was still that wide-eyed kid who thought life was good and people were kind.
“You ready to go to the shops, baby girl?”
I kiss Peach’s chubby cheek before placing her down in the pram, strapping her in, and propping up the back so she can see. She kicks her feet, all smiles and energy, like this is the best idea I’ve had all day.
I lift my hand and brusquely wave to Mrs B—my neighbour across the street—as I head down the driveway and onto the sidewalk.
“It’s a nice day for a walk,” she calls out, and I nod my head in response. We may have become somewhat friends, but I’m still a man of limited words.
She’s become a godsend over the past five months. It took me a while to completely trust her because that kind of stuff has never come easily to me, but once I realised she had only good intentions, there was no looking back.
She was bang on with the reflux assumption, and now that we know what we’re dealing with, we’ve got it under control. She’s also stepped in to look after my niece whenever I’m called out to a job. She’s willing to take her day or night, which makes it much easier for me.
Mrs B constantly refuses the money I offer her, so I bought her a new car and fitted it with a baby seat.
There was nothing wrong with the older model she was driving, but it didn’t have the safety features I’d want for my niece.
It was a win-win for both of us. She gets to drive around in comfort, and I can breathe easier knowing Lil’ Peach is safe.
I have an obligation to the Famiglia now, and I’m willing to do whatever’s asked of me; I don’t have a choice. But knowing Peach has a safe place to go while I’m out terrorising the scumbags in our community makes it a hell of a lot easier.
On those darker assignments, I’m given time to regroup …
to pull myself together before I walk back through the door.
My niece deserves the best parts of me, not the cruel monster I have to become out there.
And no matter what I do, or how far I fall, she’s the reason I keep dragging myself back.
That’s a side of me I hope she never has to see.
I love her innocence and that she’s untainted by the ugliness of this world. I’m going to do my best to make sure it stays that way, for as long as possible.
Lil’ Peach and I have fallen into an easy rhythm, and she’s thriving. The kid is already rolling over, grabbing at everything she can reach, and babbling like she’s got something really important to say.
I’m looking forward to all the other milestones, her sitting up on her own, saying her first real words, crawling, pulling herself to her feet, and taking that first terrifying step. She’s become the light cutting through my darkness, and every damn day, I can’t wait to see what she does next.
As for her mother, she’s still being controlled by drugs. Contact was finally made with my sister. It went through Mary because I’m not dealing with that bullshit any more than necessary. I’m not having her come around here and upsetting Peach.
A supervised two-hour visit was set up a few months ago, but my sister showed up high, and that was the end of it.
There’s been no more talk of visits since.
She’ll have to go through regular drug screening before she gets another chance, and for Lil’ Peach’s sake, I hope she can get her fucking act together.
I want my sister to get clean, but on the flip side, losing this little girl would gut me. She’s the one good thing I have going for me.
I’ll admit it’s hard sometimes—raising a kid on your own isn’t easy—but the rewards are worth every sleepless night, every worry, every damn sacrifice. Hearing her laugh, listening to her baby gibberish, and watching her discover the world is the kind of magic you can’t put a price on.
We’re heading towards the checkout with a basket full of all the essentials. Bread, eggs, milk, baby formula, jars of pureed fruits, and some frozen dinners, because I can’t cook for shit. There is also a box of nappies balancing on top of the pram.
Peach is grinding her gums away on a teething ring when I spot someone I wasn’t expecting to run into here. Fucking Emily, the waitress from La Riviera. The blonde-haired beauty who has one of those faces you don’t forget easily, no matter how hard you try.
She’s standing by the registers, flipping through a magazine, that same easy smile tugging at her lips, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
The woman I’ve been trying not to think about, trying not to want, is suddenly right in front of me, and every bit of discipline I’ve built starts to crumble.
My first instinct is to turn around and walk the other way, but I’m no fucking coward. With a bit of luck, she won’t even notice me or remember who I am. Just because she made an impression on me doesn’t mean I did the same for her.
I can’t even pinpoint what it is about her that gets under my skin.
Yeah, she’s beautiful, achingly so, but I’ve seen enough of that to know it doesn’t mean much.
Most women who look like her only shine on the surface, and I’m done with that kind of bullshit.
I don’t do shallow and fake. Not anymore.
I grumble under my breath when I notice there are only two checkouts open, so I head towards the one that is furthest away from her. I’m still too close, but there’s not much I can do about that. Lil’ Peach is due for a bottle and a nap, so I need to get home before all hell breaks loose.
With considerable effort, I keep my gaze fixed ahead, resisting the persistent urge to look her way.
She looks stunning today. Her long golden hair is loose, brushing the small of her back, and don’t even get me started on those skintight jeans she’s wearing.
She’s temptation wrapped in denim … a temptation I shouldn’t want, and one I definitely don’t need.
My hope of leaving without being noticed goes out the window when Peach throws one of those colourful fabric books out of the pram and begins to whine. She leans over the side with grabby hands, waiting for me to pick it up.
Before I can reach it, a hand swoops down and retrieves the book. I hear a soft voice say, “Here you go, cutie pie,” and when I glance down, I see Emily holding it out to Peach.
My chest immediately tightens when her attention shifts up, and she looks straight at me. Those pretty blue eyes widen just a fraction before her lips curl into that same easy, infuriating smile.
“Mr Rizzo,” she says.
I find myself frowning when she calls me that. I’m surprised she even remembered my name.
“Dominic,” I growl in reply. Mr Rizzo reminds me of my dad, and he was a cunt.
“Dominic,” she repeats, and I can’t help noticing the way my name rolls off her tongue, soft and deliberate, catching me off guard.
For a split second, the world narrows to the sound of her voice and the intensity of her gaze.
It’s a strange, unsettling feeling. “I don’t know if you remember me …
my name is Emily. I work at La Riviera. You came into the restaurant a few months ago. ”
Five and a half months ago, to be exact, but who’s counting?
I nod once and grunt, neither confirming nor denying whether I remember her or not.
She’s wearing a short-sleeved blue blouse, which only seems to accentuate the colour of her eyes, and I’m pleased to see there doesn’t appear to be any marks on her today.
A faint pink blush climbs her neck at my gruffness, and I catch the quick intake of breath she tries to hide by clearing her throat and changing the subject.
“So … you have a daughter?” she asks, her eyes flicking back to Lil’ Peach in the pram.
I glance down at my niece, who’s babbling happily and clutching the soft fabric book Emily handed back. A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself.
“Niece,” I say shortly, my tone rough around the edges.
Her blush deepens as she crouches slightly to meet Peach at eye level. “She’s adorable,” Emily murmurs, holding out a finger for Peach to grab. “It’s sweet of you to babysit her.”
“I’m her guardian,” I find myself admitting.
Her eyebrows jump briefly in surprise before she quickly schools her expression. “Guardian,” she repeats. “That’s a big responsibility.”
I shrug. “Someone’s got to make sure she’s safe.”
Emily glances from Peach to me, and for a heartbeat, I catch a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe respect—before her plump lips curve up again.
“Well, she’s lucky to have you.”
I grunt, turning my attention back to Peach as she pokes at the fabric book with tiny fingers, but I can’t ignore the warmth that creeps up my chest at Emily’s words. It’s irritating. I hate that I even told her. I’m not even sure why I did. I don’t let people in. Not like this. Not anymore.
This conversation is over, at least from my side. I clear my throat, take a step forward to put a little distance between us, and start unloading my basket onto the conveyor belt.
She can smile at Peach all she wants, but I’m done giving away pieces of me that don’t belong to anyone else. My doors remain shut for a reason, and that’s precisely how I intend to keep them.
“Not much of a cook, hey?” she notes, eyeing the pile of frozen dinners. My eyes briefly dart to her, but I ignore her observation. “You should come back to La Riviera, Dominic … and bring this little cutie with you. You’re always guaranteed a good feed there.”