Page 102 of The Bluffing Game

“Why do I look like what?”

“You look like you’ve been through hell and back. Is everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.” He looks over at me. “But I don’t want to dump on you. You don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t have to worry about dumping on me. You already know what I’m going through. Drive to the beach, and we’ll talk there.”

Suddenly, I feel like our roles are reversed. Suddenly, I feel like the strong one. I feel like the one who’s taking care of him, and it makes me feel empowered, even though I’m still annoyed about the fake profile. He had a point. He had stopped communicating with me as Bradley. And while that didn’t make it fully better, my subconscious is telling me that now is not the time to be mad at him for this.

He drives silently toward the beach, pulls into the parking lot, and stops the car. We exit the car, and he heads over to me.

“Can I hold your hand?” he asks boyishly.

I nod. He takes it in his. We make our way down to the beach. It almost feels like we’re teenagers on our first date, sneaking out.

He offers me a small smile. “Just being with you makes me feel a little bit better right now.”

“Really?” I say, not wanting to tell him the same thing, but it is true. I was anxious and worried all night, and now he’s here with me, and I feel better. “So, what happened? Are you and Toby’s mom getting back together or …”

He lets out a long, deep sigh. “It’s not what you think, Sage. None of it is what you think.” He stops and pulls off his shoes. “Want to walk in the water?” he asks.

“Is that your way of asking me to skinny-dip?”

“No, I just feel like having something cold to shock my system right now.”

“Okay.” I slip off my flip-flops, and we head down to the water. The cool waves lap against our feet and ankles, and he lets out another deep sigh. He pulls my hands so that I’m now next to him, and he reaches down and grabs my face. He grabs my neck and leans down and kisses me hard, passionately, like he never wants to stop, like he’s about to go off to war, and this is it, our final kiss. I finally pull back, gasping for air, looking at him and his manic expression.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Just in case I never get to kiss you again, I wanted to have a kiss that I could remember you by, that you could remember me by.”

“What do you mean? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“So, Toby’s not my son,” he says.

My jaw is on the floor.

“What do you mean? You’re his dad. I’ve heard him call you Dad.”

“I adopted him,” he says, his eyes searching mine, like he needs my forgiveness, but I don’t know what for.

“That’s good. You used to date his mom or⁠—”

“I never met his mom until tonight.”

I frown. “Wait, I’m so confused.”

“I used to be in the Mafia,” he says. “I was a made man. My dad was Mafia. Jimmy the Fish was Mafia. It’s all I grew up with. We did some bad things—primarily my dad. I was going to take over from him. We had a land dispute. Well, let’s just say, a dispute with the Russian mob, known as the Bratva.”

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay.” He strokes the side of my face. “I’m glad you don’t. Let’s just say, there was a territorial dispute. I was already starting to think that this wasn’t the life I wanted. Igor, Toby’s dad, he ambushed my guys and me one night, and let’s just say, my dad, well, he killed him.”

“What? Like, actually killed him?”

He nods slowly. “Igor pulled a gun on me and was going to shoot me. My dad saw and got him first. Then we found out that he had his son in the car, just a baby. I felt like shit. His dad was gone. Turned out there was no mom in the picture. Luckily, I had a few connections. I decided to adopt him. I felt like the least I could do was give the boy a home, give him a family, but I knew that, one day, he’d want his mom. I had Brett looking for her. Finally, he found her, and I thought maybe she’d want to be in his life. Not that I wanted her to have him—he’s my son, and I love him—but I thought maybe she’d want to see him, maybe take him to lunch or dinner or spend time with him. Turns out, he’s got some siblings that …” His face turns bleak.

“She’s an addict. She doesn’t care. We’re going to try and get her help, but I don’t know. Those rehabs, I don’t have much faith in them. How many people do they get clean? She doesn’t really want to see Toby. She doesn’t want anything to do with him. She wasn’t with Igor for love or marriage or anything like that. But I was hoping for my son, for Toby, that she would want more. I don’t know what I’m going to tell him when he gets older, that his grandfather killed his dad and his mom⁠—”