“I want to murder you.”
“But you won’t.”
He was right. I wouldn’t, but only because he was my oldest and closest friend. I knew I’d been more tense and agitated than ever, and I was grateful he seemed to be giving me a pass.
He grinned as he sat in the chair opposite me, resting his ankle over his knee. “How is it going with the gorgeous doctor?”
“Peachy,” I grumbled.
“Jesus, Lykos. Do you want me to give you some instructions on how to seduce the woman?” he asked. Much to my horror, he was dead serious. “You need to get laid. I’m pretty sure that woman needs to get laid too. Both of you are conveniently here… so for the love of God, get laid.”
“You’re forgetting my wife is here too,” I said bitterly. “Violet has standards and is very scrupulous when it comes to being the other woman.”
Salvatore scoffed. “Standards… Schmandards… Sweet-talk her and leave your wife to me.”
I shook my head. “What the fuck does schmandards even mean?”
He shrugged. “No idea, but I heard one of these younger generations use it.”
“You really have to stop whoring yourself around, especially to women who are half your age,” I said matter-of-factly. “You’re too old for that shit.”
“Age is all up here.” He tapped his fingers against his temple. “I’m in my twenties all over again.” Then he smiled smugly and added, “I bet in your mind you’re thirty and banging Violet all over again.”
“Jesus Christ, Salvatore. Shut the fuck up.”
“Oh come on,” he retorted dryly. “You admitted you jack off thinking about her and only her. She’s your soulmate, you said it yourself.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, regretting the night I got so drunk that I rambled my secrets to my best friend. “I really wish I had never told you that.”
“Seriously though, you need to get laid. Your dick will fall off. Forget blue balls, yours must be purple by now,” he said, his expression somber. “Besides, you might make more babies. More Arias and Dimitroses. Just fuck the good doctor’s brains out and live happily ever after. It works in books.”
“Don’t tell me you read romance novels?” I snickered.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t diss it until you’ve tried it. There are some good tips in those books.”
I shoved my hand through my hair. “I don’t even want to know.”
“Your loss, buddy,” he drawled. “Did you get someone to bring all Dr. Freud’s stuff from her hotel?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, yesterday. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Ah, good. There’s hope for you yet.”
“Geez, thanks,” I muttered dryly.
“Will you tell Aria about her birth mother?”
I stiffened. “Why would I do that?”
“Because Violetisher mother,” he deadpanned. “And by the look on that woman, she cares about her. Did you see how she looks at her with shimmering eyes? The woman tries to keep her face a blank mask, but her eyes… they betray her. She loves that child as much as you do.”
Much to my dismay, I did notice it, but it was hard to forget those words she said when she dropped Aria off like she was garbage to get rid of. Our daughter needed her when she was growing up. Violet should have been the one to fix her hair, go shopping with her, and to a nail salon. But it was Dimitros and I who did it all with her.
My lips twitched, remembering the morning I woke up to painted nails and a four-year-old Aria grinning proudly. She asked me if I loved it. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Daddy didn’t like painted nails. So with a proud smile, I told her she did a great job, but internally, I was so fucking sad that she only had Dimitros and me.
“Lykos—” Salvatore started, but I cut him off.
“Don’t you have some shit to do?” I reached for a document that had been waiting for my attention, although I was incapable of reading a single word on that cursed document.
