Chapter 44
A fter another fitful night of sleep, the morning comes all too soon.
I’m grateful to be able to broach this subject in my own time, but the thought of what awaits me has dread curling in my stomach.
Yet, at the same time, leaving the house and letting a stranger be the one to do the examination is a far easier pill to swallow than calling Doc, even if that would mean I could stay in the penthouse.
I doubt I’d ever be able to look the man in the face again.
Jonathan’s steady support means more than words could ever convey.
“Are you sure about this?” I can’t help but ask as we step into the lift.
He’s looking unfairly handsome this morning: dark suit, clearly tailored to flatter his every muscle, silver watch glinting in the early morning sunshine, stubble-covered jaw.
His familiar cologne invades my senses; he’s my every fantasy wrapped into one six-foot two man I can’t have. Not anymore.
“Of course. When have you ever known me to go back on my word?” He cocks a dark brow, giving me his full attention. Time has done nothing to take the headiness out of that action .
“Touché. But no one would blame you for not wanting to be a part of this. It’s humiliating.”
“Helen, nothing could keep me away. I want to be here for you in any way I can. If that means giving you your space, then that’s what we’re going to do.
If that means driving you to the clinic, then we’ll do that too.
None of this is a chore, and it sure as shit isn’t humiliating.
” His unflinching gaze holds me in a way I wish I could let him physically, heating me up from the inside in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Letting the silence blanket us, I offer him a shaky smile before following him to his car. A laugh escapes me as I take it in.
“Truly nothing has changed, huh?”
“I told you—I couldn’t bare it,” he murmurs, holding the door open for me. The leather seat holds memories of all the times I sat in this very spot. Swallowing back the emotions fighting to take over, I watch Jonathan round the car before sliding into the seat beside me.
The drive passes in comfortable silence as I take in the once-familiar-now-foreign sights of London. So much has changed, and yet our old haunts line every street. Where we had ice cream in the middle of winter. The little café I spent hours in with Donna. O’Neill’s restaurant.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he asks.
“Hmm?”
“How time moves so slowly and yet at the speed of light. Nothing changes, and at the same time, everything does.” Looking across at him, at his hand resting on the steering wheel with his veiny forearms on full display, I flush before averting my eyes back to the road.
“Sometimes, I feel like I lost more than six years, like I’ll never be up to speed or make up for all the missed birthdays and holidays.
Hell, I missed our daughter’s wedding. Her pregnancy.
The birth of my granddaughter.” The list of missed milestones is too long to even comprehend.
It’s like a stab in the gut to even think about how much has changed, how little I know.
“Sweetheart, we’re all here for you. Cora has a million photos and videos of the wedding and pregnancy and April to share with you, and I’ll do anything I can to help you.
All we want is for you to feel like you can lean on us when you need to.
” His words soothe an ache inside me that has been bleeding out for far too long.
Letting out a shaky exhale, I reach across the car to link hands with him on the gear stick.
We remain like that for the rest of the drive, and sooner than I’m ready for, we’re pulling up to the clinic.
Squeezing my hand, he gets out and makes his way around to open the door for me.
With a hand on my back, he guides me into the clinic.
The friendly receptionist takes my details without a trace of judgment and instructs me to take a seat.
I can’t stop my knee from bouncing while we wait, and before I know it, I’m called back.
The nurse takes all my samples with a no-nonsense attitude, and once I’ve been poked and prodded for every test under the sun, I’m sent on my way with instructions to look out for a call in the next week.
Knowing the first step to taking back ownership over my body is underway feels like a weight off my shoulders, one that’s been nearly suffocating me.
Back in the waiting room, my eyes automatically drift to Jonathan.
In typical mafia man style, he has his back to a wall, eyes constantly scanning the room.
The moment he lays eyes on me, he’s out of his seat and meeting me halfway.
“Everything go okay?” he grunts, scanning me as if he can see the results for himself.
“As okay as it can.” I shrug, adjusting my bag strap as it starts to slip down my shoulder.
“Fancy getting some food before we head back?” When I nod, he leads the way back to the car, helping me in before making his way around to his side. I watch the roads blur as we pass them, and it’s not long before we’re winding our way down an old, familiar road.
“No way. This place is still here?” I can’t control the shocked gasp as I eagerly get out of the car.
“Sweetheart, what have I told you about letting me get the door?” he grumbles, quickly catching up to me with a scowl on his face.
“Can you blame a girl? I’ve been dreaming about Angie’s milkshakes for twenty years.
” I laugh as we make our way in. With a fond shake of his head, he holds the door open for me, leading me to the same booth we sat in all those years ago.
It’s comforting to see that, while a lot of things have changed, this place hasn’t aged a day.
Taking in the familiar sights and smells, I’m transported twenty years into the past, to better times, more carefree times, though I would have scoffed at the idea if you had dared suggest that to me then.
“Johnny, what did I tell you about—” Angie cuts herself off midstream as she lays eyes on me with a gasp.
Before I can blink, she’s closed the distance between us, pulling me into a hug.
With a laugh, I hug her back, unaware just how much I needed to be held, to feel the kind of love and safety only a mother’s embrace can provide.
“Oh, sweet child, let me look at you,” she tuts, pulling back and framing my face between her palms. As she takes me in, I do the same to her.
Her hair has greyed, and there’s a few more wrinkles, telling the story of a life filled with love and laughter.
She frowns as she takes in my sunken features.
No matter how much I’ve been eating, the weight I desperately need to gain doesn’t want to stick to my bones.
“Johnny, what are you feeding this girl?” She huffs, spinning on her heel to level a glare at him.
I bite back a laugh at the sight of this five-foot nothing woman ripping the Boss of the Irish Mafia a new one without a trace of fear or hesitation.
Slipping back into my seat, I join her in chiding him.
“Yeah, Johnny. What are you feeding me?”
Kicking back in his seat, arm draped over the back, he rolls his eyes. “I should have expected this from you two. Ganging up on an old man is so unfair, don’t you think?”
“Oh, hush. Now, what will it be? Two vanilla milkshakes and two loaded cheeseburgers?” Just the thought of the delicious burgers has my mouth watering. Angie laughs at the expression on my face before she leaves to place our orders with a squeeze of my shoulder.
“This place is like a time warp,” I observe, unable to keep the awe from my voice as I look around before turning my focus to the man across from me.
“I thought you’d appreciate somewhere familiar amidst all the change.
” He shrugs like it’s no big deal when it is, in fact, a huge deal to me.
It’s another nail in the coffin of the reasons why Jonathan is single handedly the best man I’ve ever known.
The fact that he’ll never be mine again cuts deep.
Dropping my eyes to the table, I fiddle with the cutlery as I fight back the emotions threatening to choke me.
Before I can think of a response, Angie comes back with our drinks. The second I take a sip, my taste buds light up with desire, and I let out a moan, only to be jerked back to reality by his groan.
“Sweetheart, you can’t make noises like that. Please. I’m only a man.” The tortured look on his face would have me laughing if the heat in his words wasn’t making it hard to think past them. We’re caught in a heated staring contest until our food arrives.
It’s only once our plates are cleared that the tension eases enough for me to focus. Tearing my napkin into small slivers, I open the lid on Pandora’s Box just enough to tell him about my suspicions.
“The man who had me, Kyle, would invite visitors. There was one, Benedict, who had my sister. I’m pretty sure Benedict’s ties to the rat ran deep,” I confess, looking up at him.
Confusion darts across his face before he clears his throat and sits forward, closing the gap between us. “What makes you say that?”
“Little things he would say—comments about how he vouched for them, how he had pull over them. Saying it out loud, it doesn’t sound like a lot; it’s more like a gut feeling, I guess.” I frown. Putting my finger on why I think Benedict and the rat were tightly connected has been driving me crazy.
Letting out a breath, he holds eye contact. “If I’m honest, that would explain a lot. It feels like everywhere we look is a dead end, but if we turn our gaze inwards, well…”
“I’m sorry.”
I watch him across the table. The weight of the betrayal, the secrets, the uncertainty—it’s all carved into his expression. His handsome face is drawn tight with frown lines, and the spark that once lived in his eyes is gone, replaced by something harder.
Someone’s pissed all over the core values of the Points—family and honour above everything—and now he’s left to pick up the pieces.
Someone is carrying tales to the worst kind of people, and the fallout’s going to be ugly.
I can already hear the outrage. The demands for blood.