31. Sinéad
It’s weird.
I was never the maternal type.
As a teen, my dreams never stretched to a happily ever after where my childhood sweetheart and I would find each other again, raise our son and daughter together, and live the life of luxury in a foreign country.
Then one day all of it was within reach.
And now, I can’t—I won’t give up the whole package—the full version of my best life.
Exhausted, I sit alone between two cribs. It’s so quiet in here. Too quiet.
I miss my husband’s playful chaos.
There’s no adult chatter or hungry babies crying tonight. Nothing but a peaceful vortex that sucks my inner fears into it.
I’m a mother now.
And a wife.
Yeah, I’m still a wife.
Definitely not a widow. André wouldn’t leave me. Not after everything we’ve been through.
He promised me and I’m not letting him check out on a technicality.
Til death do us part can go fuck off.
Anyway, he’s going to be the best father ever—even if his daredevil ways would likely have us arguing all the time.
I laugh to myself.
My husband already bought our children dirt bikes and matching helmets, claiming they’d be racers as soon as they’re out of diapers.
But now they’ve arrived looking all tiny, vulnerable, and fragile. I don’t know if I could handle my nerves when they zoom off down a dirt track.
I guess I’d have to go everywhere with them.
Given the shit relationship André and I had with our own fathers, he deserves the opportunity to break the cycle and show our wee ones how a real father treats his kids.
He assured me that being a devoted father came before ruling Miami drug gangs and our involvement in the Sicilian mafia.
And now he’s incapacitated in a hospital bed with tubes and wires everywhere.
The knots in my stomach tighten and that nauseating wave of dread hits me again.
I close my eyes momentarily and exhale a long sigh.
What happens if there’s lifelong damage to his insides…if he wakes up traumatized by his injuries, and can’t deal with the painful agony he’s in?
I shake my head. He’s stronger than that. I know him. But the surgeons can’t tell me how his body would respond to the repair work.
All we can do is wait for him to open his eyes. Those dark, hungry eyes that I’ve had to live without for too many hours.
I need my husband”s arms around me.
And my children need to learn the sound of their father’s voice.
I swallow the lump in my throat and sit forward, burying my face in my hands. Tears sting my eyes and my stomach rumbles from not being able to eat.
God, I’m a mess.
Yet there’s only so long I can put on a brave face without my mask cracking.
Blowing out, I feel the sharp tug in my heart. The need to be where he is too.
I suck in a tattered breath and decide it’s time to leave the twins for another few hours and return to their father’s side.
A little spark of excitement catches me off guard. It won’t be long now.
I clear my throat and stand. My legs ache and my back cracks when I slowly straighten.
I’m still healing too. The cesarean section wound pinches a little. I ignore the uncomfortable sensation as I look down at my son and daughter.
My heart swells.
The internal war between staying and leaving freezes me to the spot.
I’ve pretty much lost track of the days and hours we’ve been in this hospital.
After the latest attack, both Carina and India were swept away by their men.
The girls were hesitant to leave, but I’d insisted. Tomás and Giovanni wore the stress of the day”s events on their faces.
I know that feeling all too well. It was a close call and Tomás went deadly silent afterwards. I get the impression he’s rethinking having a big wedding.
Then again, when Souzas fall, they always rise.
None of us knows what that man is planning to do next. Except for Carina.
And I’d sure as hell hate to see the state of the world if anything bad happens to her.
If André was awake, he’d take control too. We’d probably fly to Sin Island where he’d sit under a parasol on the terrace while our babies sleep.
He’d watch me sip a frosty cocktail on the sunbed beside him and drag me onto his lap, so my hot skin rests on top of his inked chest.
Sprawled over him, he’d tell me stories to make me laugh and talk dirty in my ear.
But mostly, he’d listen to all the self-doubt running riot in my head. How I’m scared of being a shit mother. And how I can’t stop worrying about something bad happening again…my husband has the natural ability to make everything in my life feel perfect.
I sigh heavily.
The rest of the family would be back here first thing in the morning with fresh coffee, food, and company. Hopefully, by that stage, André should’ve woken up.
Teresa, on the other hand, she wouldn’t leave. Nor would her bodyguard.
She’s here to help me with the graveyard shift tonight. We take turns and she doesn’t question me when I flit from this ward and back to André again and again.
Grief fizzes through me. The constant trickle of loss I feel when I wish my own mother was sitting next to me.
My scalp prickles and I suddenly get the feeling Mammy is somewhere close by—offering me comfort in her memory.
I dig out a few coins from my baggy black sweatpants, thinking a coffee would get me through the next few hours.
“Where’s my wife?” A raspy voice startles the nighttime peacefulness.
My pulse skips a beat.
I look beyond the glass where Matheus and his girl are walking past the window pushing a wheelchair.
I swallow hard and hold a hand to my heart, aware my breathing is all over the place.
My fingers tingle and my eyes burn.
“André…” I choke out, stumbling towards the doors.
When they automatically swing inwards and my eyes find his, my legs turn to jelly and I sink to my knees, crying.
I can’t help it.
Relief hits me hard. All the tightness in my body unwinds and I cover my teary face with my hands.
There’s a grunt, a snarl, and a muttered, “Jesus fuck.”
“Sin…” His hands are on me, pulling my own away from my eyes and forcing me to look at him.
On his knees now too, he cups my cheeks in his big hands and kisses my forehead.
“Always kneeling for me, Wifey.” He chuckles, but everyone knows he’s playing. Especially when his tired voice wobbles with emotion.
I suck my lips between my teeth to stop my sobs and stare into his dark eyes, recognizing he’s still out of it. But right here in the moment, he’s with me—trying his best.
“I’ve missed you so much, Dré,” I whisper, gently resting my hands on his shoulders, so I don’t hurt him in any way.
“Are you okay?” he asks, the tips of our noses brushing.
I laugh lightly, a little deliriously. “Never mind me, hotshot. Are you okay? Why the hell are you out of bed?”
He strokes the strands of hair stuck to my wet cheeks away from my face and kisses a tear clinging to the corner of my left eye.
“Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Sin,” he mumbles, nuzzling my face and breathing me into his lungs.
“I had to see you…I’m okay now we’re together again. You’ve gone through so much without me…and look, you’re fucking amazing, Wifey. You made babies.”
“We made babies,” I correct. “And they look like you.”
His forehead bumps into mine, tiredness making his deep voice thick and hoarse.
“I love you, Sin. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to take care of you after the babies were born. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
I smile against his lips, running my fingertips over his bearded jaw. I’m so thankful to finally hear his sexy Colombian accent and feel his hands on my skin.
“You’ve already made it up to me, Dré,” I whisper. “You came back to us…”
I hold on to him, unable to let go. He buries his face in the crook of my neck as he hugs me.
I look over at Matheus, who holds Daniela Blanco tucked tight to his hip. Her arm wraps his middle, and she gazes up at him.
That woman is something else—a beauty and a tactical soldier. She’s not exactly the type I had expected Matheus to go for given she’s a trained assassin. Then again, my man is a billionaire drug lord.
The heart wants what the heart wants.
I hope she doesn’t break Matheus’ heart. I’d hate to see a target on her back when she’s shown nothing but loyalty to us.
Next to them, Teresa dabs her nose with a tissue. Her usual bodyguard lingers to the right of her, taking everything in.
That guy never leaves her side. If he wasn’t over a decade younger than her, I’d say they were screwing.
Then again, Teresa holds her secrets close.
Despite the personalities surrounding us, all I feel is gratitude and love.
“Come on, let’s get you back into the wheelchair, Dré. It’s time for you to meet our children.”
He sighs heavily and winces as he moves. Even though I’m shaky from adrenaline, I manage to get to my feet and hook an arm around his shoulders.
“Wait…” Matheus lunges at me. “You’ve got stitches too, Sinéad. Let me help. My brother weighs a shit ton, because he drinks too much booze.”
Immediately, Dani joins us as André wallops Matheus’ thigh.
“I could still drink you under the table, cabron. Even now,” André mumbles.
“Yeah, yeah,” Matheus goads. “Says the guy with his ass hanging out.”
“Your girl isn’t complaining about the view,” André jokes while all of us get him settled back in the chair. “She appreciates Souza ass.”
“Nah, cabron. She only likes my ass,” Matheus retorts quickly.
Dani bristles and Matheus’ eyes dart to hers.
Something unspoken passes between the two of them and then Dani bites her bottom lip as Matheus grins, so full of charm and heat.
In that moment, I realize Matheus is the heartbreaker…always has been.
Maybe it’s Dani who needs to keep her heart guarded and safe.