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.”
My eyes snap back to her before I can stop them, and Ifeel a jolt I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s just conversation, nothing more, but the thrill of her invitation is unexpected. Something tightens in my chest, a pulse of anticipation I don’t like, and I force myself to look away before my gaze lingers too long.
I’m going to make it a point never to return there now.
I may have made a silent vow never to return to La Riviera, but that didn’t stop me from driving past. In the last month, I’ve found excuses to be on that street or gone out of my way to detour down it, just hoping to catch a glance of Emily.
Every time I pass the restaurant, I slow down and scan the windows, the entrance, the sidewalk, half expecting her to appear and half knowing she won’t.
The disappointment that follows is instant, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s ridiculous. It’s like some sick kind of obsession I can’t shake, and my heart hammers every time I round that damn corner, chasing the same pointless rush.
Is this really what my life has come to? I love the quiet, my routine, and the one-on-one time with my niece. And yet, somehow, this woman has slipped into my thoughts as if she belongs there. It’s uninvited and unnecessary. I barely know her, have barely spoken to her, and still she lingers, like a face in a crowd that refuses to fade. Like something unfinished.
I don’t understand it. I don’t want to. But that doesn’t stop me from turning down that fucking street time and time again.
My drive home tonight is quiet, but the weight of what I just did presses down on me like a lead blanket. Every red light gives me time to replay it. Most of the scum I deal with get what they deserve, and I usually enjoy the release ofanger that seems to rot my insides, but some jobs get under my skin. Tonight was one of them.
The guy had been running scams, shaking down the wrong people, and evading me for over a week. When I finally got hold of him earlier, I slammed him against the wall harder than I should have. He grunted, clutched his shoulder, and muttered something about not hurting him because he had a newborn to take care of at home.
His words had my fist freezing midair. For a heartbeat, Lil’ Peach flashed through my mind. Her sleepy face in the mornings, her grabby hands, the way she snuggles into the crook of my neck when I lift her out of the cot. Those images of her hit me harder than they should have.
But that man was not me. Apart from the violence that comes with my job, I live an honest life. I keep to myself. I’ve worked hard for everything I have. I’d never take something that wasn’t mine.
I stared down at him, and when he smiled, the rage I’d felt when I finally caught up to him surged back with a vengeance. Those gold front teeth only made it worse. I hated showy cunts like him, and I could only imagine where he’d gotten the money to pay for them. I can guarantee it wasn’t clean.
“Is the kid’s mother still in their life?” I found myself asking. Typically, I’m not one to ask questions. I usually let my fists do the talking.
“Yeah,” he replied, like it was a stupid question. It wasn’t. My niece was the perfect example of that.
His answer had me shoving aside any inhibitions as the darkness took over. I had a reputation to maintain, so I couldn’t afford to get soft. He fucked around with the mob, and that comes with consequences.
When I took a step back and cracked my knuckles, fear filled his eyes as he asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m about to fuck up all that money you wasted at the dentist,” I replied calmly.
I’ve got those gold teeth sitting heavy in my pocket. A prize to hand back to my boss, proof that I got the job done. And a reminder to the fucker I left on the floor, broken, bloodied, and crying like a little girl. It’s what happens when you steal from people who know how to take it all back. He’s lucky he’s still breathing.
As I near toward town, I’m already telling myself I’m not going past La Riviera tonight. I even repeat it in my head like a fucking mantra, but the second I hit the corner, my fingers twitch and the indicator flicks on.
“Fuck,” I groan, pushing my head back into the seat and banging my palm against the steering wheel. But despite that, I still turn. This shit is getting out of control, but I need a moment before I go and collect Peach from Mrs B’s, and maybe potentially seeing Emily will help calm the storm that’s still brewing inside me. It’s a flimsy excuse, but I’m rolling with it.
Like every other time I’ve driven down the street, I’m expecting nothing, but my breath catches when I see her. I blink a few times and run a hand down my face, like she’s a damn apparition. But when I reopen my eyes, she’s still there waiting on the sidewalk, like a fucking vision dressed in her black-and-white server’s uniform.
She’s beautiful, painfully so, and I can’t look away. Her long golden locks shimmer from the streetlight above, and I find myself wondering if it feels as soft as it looks.
I quickly pull off to the side and park the car. I’m far enough away that she won’t notice me, and all I can do is lean forward in my seat and stare.
Why am I so fucking drawn to this woman?
Minutes pass, but I continue to sit here like a creep. My stomach coils into a tight knot, but no matter how wrong this feels, I have no intention of leaving. For a split second, Ieven contemplate getting out of the car and approaching her, but a loud rumble breaks the quiet as a Harley rolls up, stopping beside her.
I sit straighter in my seat as one hand moves to curl around the door handle. My first thought is that this guy is a threat, but when she takes the helmet he’s offering, slides it on, and straps it under her chin, I know he isn’t.
That soft, fucking smile of hers, the one that I can’t seem to get out of my head, curves her pretty lips as she swings her leg, straddles the bike, and wraps her arms around the rider’s waist.
I don’t know who this fucker is, but my first thought is to rip his head off and piss down his throat.
