Page 26 of One Last Time

So was the life of a mob boss’s wife. She often wondered if Andino even realized how often his wife stayed awake at night worrying over things she had neither a say, nor any control over at the end of the day. Because she did it far more often than she wanted to admit.

With the house quiet and dark, Haven settled herself on staying awake until she heard that familiar rumble of an engine pulling into their garage. That was how she knew whatever business her husband had needed to handle that evening must have ended in some kind of bloodshed. He only used the garage when he didn’t want a witness to see him enter the house. That way, there was always plausible deniability about who had come home late at night, and what they looked like when they exited the vehicle.

Or that’s what he explained when she thought to ask once.

Sometimes, Haven wished she didn’t ask.

It was easier.

It took a good ten minutes before her husband even darkened the doorway of their bedroom. She couldn’t help but notice how the blazer he wore was a dark navy and not the flat black he’d worn with her earlier. She didn’t mention it.

Nor did she say a thing about the spots of dried red something on the backs of his hands when he lifted one to wave her way. She pressed her lips together, but at the same time, couldn’t stop the relieved smile that fettered over her lips at the sight of him.

“How’d things go?” she asked.

Yeah.

That was a safe way to ask.

Andino shrugged as he headed for the attached master bathroom. “It went well. I don’t think there’ll be anymore problems from that side of things, anyway.”

A breath escaped her.

Then, another.

He had already disappeared into the bathroom, and she could hear the shuffle of clothing dropping to the floor. Without needing to be told, she knew those clothes would not be there come morning, and she wouldn’t find them in his bag for dry cleaning, either. She wasn’t sure if he burned them or simply threw the items away, but he never asked her to handle them.

She was grateful.

“Andino?”

“Hmm?”

Haven dragged in another lungful of air, feeling all that pressure in her chest that had been building up over the evening finally start to release. She hated that the very most. The weight that came with it, and the sensation it left behind even after it was already gone.

Those were things she couldn’t forget.

She wished she could.

“What, babe?” he called from the bathroom.

The words wouldn’t come out though she tried to make them. Everything stayed stuck in her mind and lungs like tar. She only wanted to tell him that she loved him—would always love him even when he did things she couldn’t approve of or when their life scared her to fucking death. None of it mattered because at the end of the day, just like at the end of this one, she would still love him.

That was the choice she made.

Haven was fine with it.

Instead of trying to keep pretending like everything was fine—it mostly was, now—and trying to force the words out, Haven decided to try something different. Kicking the blankets from her legs, she slipped out of the bed, and headed for the bathroom.

She found Andino bent over the sink with bubbles of soap thick in his hands before he scrubbed them down his face with a few strokes of his palms. He quickly washed it away with the water spilling from the taps before turning it off and reaching for a towel he had waiting on the edge of the counter.

Haven didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

Andino glanced her way as though he knew she’d come to stand in the bathroom with him—maybe he’d heard her approach over the running water. Or maybe it was just because this man was entirely hers … heart and soul. Whether he was perfect or not didn’t make a difference because he was perfect for her. He knew where she was. He felt her when she was nearby.

The way she did for him, too.