Chapter 15
Lily
I stared at the call button on the office phone, waiting for the number I dialed, the one that would connect me to that psychologist, to ring on its own. I wished it would. That way, I wouldn’t have the choice to avoid pressing that button altogether.
The pros of speaking to a professional were that I was getting help, dealing with my trauma healthily.
Cons? Rehashing everything and potentially opening up to more pain before I could work towards feeling normal.
I was chewing at my bottom lip — it was slightly chapped from the cold outside — until I tore at a piece of skin that wasn’t as dry.
“Shit,” I muttered. It stung like a papercut and pulled me from my thoughts as I instantly brought a finger to it, checking for blood. A tiny red dot marked my fingertip.
As I grabbed a tissue, ignoring the side-long glance from Candice at her computer, Mom stepped into the foyer. Ready for her solo house inspection with her keys in hand and a folder tucked under her arm. She wore a dark blue pantsuit. Ever the professional.
“That can become a nasty habit.” She barely glanced at me as she made a quick detour behind the desk, checking her mailbox for anything important.
“Also, you know that open house next Wednesday? I want you to attend. It’s time you start learning how to conduct an open house.
” She paused her search and looked over her shoulder at me. “Unless you had other plans.”
Other plans, as in anything with Dean. I had moved on from believing she would ever change her point of view on him.
I smiled, but not as widely when it caused the cut on my lip to burn beneath the tissue I still held against it. “I’ll be there.”
Acne cream was blotted across my chin, my hair was in a loose bun, there was a warm wheat bag held to my stomach, and I was in my softest pajamas. It was one of the few times I loathed being a woman as my ovaries went to war with my body.
Kira was to my left as we sat on our pastel blue couch, watching as the host of a cooking show introduced what he deemed the best homemade candy to add to the kids' Halloween baskets this year. All I wanted was for that candy to be at my disposal. Preferably served with chocolate.
For a moment, my eyes slid to Kira as she refreshed her text notifications for the umpteenth time, waiting for that all-important text from Seb. One I doubted would come anytime soon as midnight drew closer. Kira would have to wait until Thursday, after her meeting, to talk to him.
Just like I would have to wait until tomorrow morning to talk to Dean.
So much for not waiting on a man…
Mine had been called in for a job. The kind I hated but knew he didn’t have much of a choice with. All I knew was that it involved collecting money and bringing it back to Antonio. All while inconspicuously strapped with a police recording device.
I wasn’t fully paying attention to the TV.
More staring than anything before a text came through on my phone.
My speed of tapping the notification was immediate.
Despite knowing a text from Dean during one of these jobs was unlikely, I still half expected his name to be on the screen.
Instead, it was a text from my sister, Jane, wondering if I could come to her soccer game this Saturday.
Me: Yeah, of course. Just don’t expect me to have any clue of what’s going on lol
Jane: It’s more that I need your opinion on something.
Me: Why not ask me now for my opinion?
Jane: Because you need to see it in person.
She added a smirking emoji, and I smiled to myself as I responded.
Me: You’re weird.
Jane: See you Saturday!
It was past 1 AM as I shuffled back to bed from my bathroom, feeling my way through the dark until I was tucked beneath the covers again. Curling myself around the wheat bag, I nestled my head into my pillow. As I closed my eyes, the room was illuminated by my phone.
I reached for it and remained beneath the covers as I opened the text from Dean.
Dean: Leaving his house. You probably won’t get this until morning, but goodnight x
I smiled faintly and tapped out a response, sending it off with a yawn.
Me: Night x
Dean: You’re up late.
Me: Can’t sleep. Cramping.
Dean: What do you need?
Me: Snacks and back rubs?
Dean: On my way.
I stared at that message for longer than I meant to, wondering how many more of them I would get before all of this was over. My hormones were making me a little sentimental. An all too familiar lump was forming in my throat before I locked my phone and rolled onto my back.
The days I had with him were limited and disappearing fast with every piece of information Dad was using to build his case.
Half an hour later, as I waited for another text from him to let me know he was downstairs, there was a knock on the apartment door, and I sat up with a frown.
I climbed out of bed and quietly made my way through the apartment, making a mental note to get a spare key made as I felt my way down the short, dark hallway to the front door. Suddenly remembering the acne cream on my chin, I hastily rubbed it in as I pulled the door open.
His sandalwood and leather scent greeted my senses as I found Dean leaning against the door frame.
Dressed in a dark, blue-black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattooed forearms, I figured he came from a job that required a more formal setting.
His black hair was combed back, except for a few stubborn strands that hung across his brow in the way I loved, and in his hand was a small plastic container.
At first, he was simply gazing towards the elevator as he waited. When the door opened, pulling his attention to me, a soft smile appeared on his face.
“I brought leftover cannoli.” He lifted the box for emphasis as he pushed away from the door frame.
I groaned happily as I eyed the box. “Did I mention I love you?”
He huffed a laugh as he considered the box. “They’re sort of a peace offering too.”
“For what?”
The grimace on his face was subtle. “Our disagreement on the weekend.”
“You already apologized for that.”
“I know, but it didn’t seem like enough.
I wasn’t fair to you, and you made a good point.
So…” When he began lowering himself to one knee in the middle of the corridor, my eyebrows went up in surprise.
He half smiled while looking up at me. “Forgive me, Lily. And if I ever speak to you that way again, or raise my voice—”
“You didn’t raise your voice,” I said gently.
“But if I ever do, with you, please slap me upside the head, alright?”
“Okay, that’s a little extreme, but,” I took his hand, indicating he could stand, and laughed a little, “You’re forgiven… Now come inside before Susan spots us and thinks you’re proposing.”
Dean raised an eyebrow knowingly while the corner of his mouth twitched. “Since I’m down here already…”
I knew he was joking, but it didn’t stop the subtle fluttering in my stomach. My words came out with quiet laughter as I gently tugged on his arm. “Just come inside.”
He rose to his feet, handed me the container, and kissed my cheek, smiling as he did.
I led him into the apartment, feeling completely giddy now that he was here. The pain meds were also finally providing some relief. The promise of some sugar-coated cannoli was also helping my mood.
We headed quietly into my room.
“How did you get into the apartment foyer anyway?” I whispered as I shut the bedroom door.
Dean took a seat on the end of my bed. “That guy on the first floor let me in. The one with all the birds.”
“Ah,” I nodded, approaching the bed as I opened the container. “That’s Nigel.”
I felt Dean’s eyes on me as I sat beside him, deciding which cannoli I would eat first.
He brushed his arm against mine, grabbing my attention.
“By the way, what you said on Friday night, it made me realize I’m a dumbass for keeping Mom in the dark.”
“You told her?”
“Everythin’.”
“Everything? As in deportation and prison?”
He pressed his lips together and nodded once. “The lot.”
I put the container aside and angled myself to face him. “How’d she take it?”
Dean inhaled. His expression was faintly amused. “She cried, ranted about how much she hated it, and called me an idiot for planning on keeping it from her. For not trusting her to keep it a secret like she’s done my entire time fighting for Antonio.”
“Well,” I sighed. “She isn’t wrong…”
“You can call me an idiot too, if you like.”
I leaned closer. “I’m just happy she’s aware… What’s the next step for her?”
“Applying for citizenship isn’t easy… She said she’ll just have to be careful.”
“Until we figure something out,” I reassured.
“Yes…”
Those gray-blue eyes watched me a second longer, noticing the small cut on my lip from earlier today, before he gently tucked several strands of hair behind my ear and cupped the side of my face. I tilted my head into his touch, searching his face for whatever was on his mind.
“You make me wanna do better.”
My heart skipped a beat, and my throat bobbed. That sentimental feeling from before set in quickly. There was a sudden glassiness to my vision.
“The intention wasn’t to make you cry.” He half smiled out of sympathy, wiping at a tear that tracked its way down my cheek. “Fuck, I’m on a roll this year.”
I huffed a laugh and wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my pajama top. “No, it’s fine. Let's change the subject before I’m a blubbering mess.”
“Good idea.” His eyes were still on me, making sure I was, in fact, okay before we continued.
“So,” I smiled, sniffling, “how did tonight go?”
That prolonged eye contact of his, still studying me with a calm concern about the tears drying on my cheeks, was enough to make me wish I had skipped this period altogether. He smelled good, looked good, and was actively listening and watching me as if I wasn’t dressed like I rolled out of bed.
Dean shook his head. “Boring. Dealing with greedy dicks. Recording the entire thing for your dad.” There was a smile in his eyes as he nodded his chin at me. “Tell me about your day.”
“Boring,” I smiled. “Dealing with greedy dicks — in property. Reporting back to my mom. It’s a whole family affair we have going on, huh?”
His smile broadened and dimpled his cheek. “Like a regular mob affiliation.”
“You can do anythin’, but never go against the family,” I said with my best Marlon Brando impersonation, adding hand gestures, a frown, and a pouted bottom lip that made Dean laugh. I continued the butchered impersonation as I picked up the box of cannoli. “Let’s eat.”