Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Valentina
This last month has been like something from a dream. Except I never dreamed of anything this good. Didn’t know peace like this was even attainable.
Believe me, Deuce and I still fight like cats and dogs.
He rolls his eyes, I brandish my knife. He uses that Southern drawl to grate at my nerves and I break out my latest insults.
The peace I feel is not because we get along every moment of every day, but because Deuce has created a home here in Heaven with me that finally feels safe.
I thought safety meant bodyguards outside my door and the most expensive security system wired into my condo.
Come to find out, real safety is having friends and family around you who will ride out at literal dawn to flower anyone who is being mean to you.
Real safety is a man who accepts every single one of my rough edges, and instead of trying to change me, he gets turned on by my spiciness.
Real safety is finding purpose that brings happiness to others and weaves you into the fabric of your town.
“All right, ladies. Let’s put the knives down and practice a little hand-to-hand combat.”
Ten women who’ve signed up for my inaugural self-defense class put their knives down on a six-foot table just the way I taught them last week.
Birdie, dressed in an all-black pant set that I think she believes is supposed to make her look tough, shoots me a wink.
She’s the reason I’m leading this class.
She approached me the day after Bettina left town, asking if I’d put something together for her and a few of her best friends.
Turned out to be ten women and a wait list for the next cohort. But I’m nothing if not ambitious.
“Most people who attack will do so from behind. The biggest lesson we need to learn here is not to do what your body naturally wants to do in these situations which is freeze.”
I turn in a semicircle, locking gazes with each woman.
They span from eighty years old to twenty.
Some are in workout gear, a few are in shorts and a T-shirt, while one woman is in a dress.
And yes, it’s floral. The thing is, someone who means you harm won’t attack when you’re dressed for it.
They won’t wait until you’re ready for them.
They seek out vulnerabilities and I don’t want these women to have any obvious ones. Not on my watch.
“We practice so that when the time comes, we’re ready.”
“Have you ever been attacked from behind?” one woman asks.
I nod, unsure how much detail they really want.
“Yes, I have. Just recently, in fact.” I try to push Fazio and his betrayal out of my mind.
I’m no longer part of that world. “You’ll have mere seconds to react.
There’s no time to worry about your dress getting dirty or if anyone will hear you cursing up a storm.
You’re in a fight for your life, so act like it. Pull out all the stops.”
I demonstrate a simple grab from behind, using Birdie as my example. “Now slam your heel down on my toe, while simultaneously elbowing me in the gut.”
Birdie taps my toe so lightly it feels like a butterfly landing. Her gut punch makes me ticklish.
“That’s adorable. And you’re dead.” I grab her harder around the waist. She grunts as the air gets pushed out of her lungs. “Now don’t waste my time. Do it for real.”
“Oh, you’re asking for it now, child.” Birdie stomps on my foot and whacks me with all her might in the gut. My hold on her loosens as pain shoots up all the way up to my skull. She twists around and out of my hold, backing away with her hands up.
I double over, hands on my knees while I try to suck in some oxygen. Damn, the old lady knocked the air out of me. Takes me a second to speak. “Good job. Perfect execution.”
Birdie beams and the ladies around her congratulate her. We take turns beating the crap out of each other in the name of self-defense until Deuce flies into the community center, all long lean muscles in a pair of linen pants and a button-down shirt.
“Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but class was over ten minutes ago and I have plans for my woman.”
The ladies all simper and fawn over Deuce.
He flirts right back, but never takes his eyes off me.
I hold this warm fuzzy feeling close to my chest while I clean up the room.
That’s the thing about safety. Once you truly feel it for the first time, you instinctually know it’s precious.
You’ll fight to defend it, to keep it tucked around you and your loved ones like an impenetrable blanket.
Deuce waits patiently for me, leaning his shoulders against the far wall, his green eyes sparkling with mischief and promises as he watches me move about.
Once the last of my class leaves, he shortens the distance.
I get a whiff of his cologne and it creates a visceral yearning to be curled up on the couch with him in his old rambling Victorian while we watch a show together.
We’ll get distracted at some point and the trail of our clothes will point the way to the bedroom.
It’s a good life we have, and I will fight to the death to keep it. Again.
His hands land on my hips and all other thoughts are whisked away. “I have a special surprise weekend planned for you, V.”
I walk my fingers up his chest. “Does it involve battery-operated candles?”
His grin lights up every nerve ending in my body. He slowly shakes his head though. “No, ma’am. It’s even better. Come on.” He takes my hand, threads our fingers together, and walks me out to his car.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?” I ask as we sail right out of town and in the opposite direction of home.
He’s so damn smug when he answers. “Nope.”
I glare at the side of his face, but it doesn’t faze him. “I hope the fleas of a thousand camels infest your body and may your arms be too short to scratch.”
He gapes at me, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Wow. That was…very descriptive.”
I nod, trying to act like a simple surprise isn’t messing with my head. “I’m pretty proud of myself for that one.”
Thing is, surprises used to get me or my men killed.
Yes, I know I’m in Heaven now and I left that life behind, but old habits die hard.
Thankfully, I don’t have that long to wait.
Deuce pulls into a small bed-and-breakfast just outside the town limits.
Betsy and Mary London are standing on the front porch, the latter going absolutely wild waving and jumping up and down like I’m Taylor Swift arriving for a friendly tea party. Betsy gives me a simple head nod.
“What is going on?” I say, staring at my two friends in bewilderment.
Deuce puts the car in park and swivels my direction. “I booked you a relaxing weekend with girlfriends. Spa appointments have been made for you all.”
“I repeat: what is going on?”
Deuce’s face goes all soft, his eyes seeing into my soul. I hate when he does that. “I know you’re not used to having friends, but this is what women do. They have girls’ nights out and weekend trips to spas. I want you to experience that. And I think a little relaxation would be good for you.”
I slump back against the seat, mind spinning. I’m not sure if I’m happy about this plan being put into action without my input or consent, but then, on the other hand, it does sound quite nice.
“Let me take care of you,” Deuce whispers, squeezing my hands.
I nod. I don’t want to disappoint him or my friends. I think I just need to learn how to receive a gift. One I don’t deserve and did nothing for. Deuce is doing something nice for me just because. It makes me uncomfortable, but maybe that’s my sign to lean into it.
“Okay,” I answer simply.
So I get out and greet my friends, enjoying a weekend getaway, even if it feels a bit bizarre.
We laugh, drink wine, eat dessert before dinner, tell stories, cry a few times, and enjoy spa services so relaxing I cry again.
Each time, they wrap their arms around me and let me wail nonsense, blubbering like a little baby.
I mutter something about catching up for lost time when it comes to crying and they nod and smile like I’m not an absolute freak.
Somehow I wake up on Sunday morning more rested than I’ve ever been.
I’m not sure I even want to leave this little cocoon of friendship, not even to go home to Deuce.
Mary London left last night, saying her boobs were killing her and she had to go feed the baby.
Betsy left a few minutes ago, saying she needed to meet up with Silas and Harlow at church.
I take my time getting ready since checkout isn’t until eleven and that’s when I expect Deuce to pick me up.
A knock on the door at ten has all those old prickles of fear and distrust creeping up my spine.
I peek through the hole in the door and see the owner, a sweet old lady with more wrinkles than years left.
“Hello,” I greet her suspiciously after I open the door.
She gives me a smile so bright I can see why her bed-and-breakfast has stayed in business so long. “Good morning, Ms. Ricci. I have a special delivery for you.”
She picks up a fancy bag next to the door and hands it to me. I take it, wondering what in the world this could be. Then she hands me a thick cream envelope.
“Make sure you read that, honey.” She claps her hands together under her chin and lets out a little squeal. “Enjoy your special day!”
I watch her walk away, confusion and a growing sense of unease trying to wipe away a perfect weekend.
I shut the door, lock it, then double-check the lock before I have a seat on the bed.
The envelope pops open and I pull out a single sheet of thick cream paper.
The sight of Deuce’s handwriting instantly has my nerves receding again.
My dear Valentina,