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20
AIDAN
My hands achedfrom how hard they were curled around the steering wheel as I drove toward Jersey.
Furious wasn't the word about having to cancel lunch plans with Ma who was back to popping pills like they were jellybeans. Throw in my worries about the Russians, the fact that I’d fucked up majorly with my wife and that there was no one to blame but myself, and I wasn't in the best of moods.
There was one consolation—she hadn't tried to escape her guards.
I knew that wasn't out of deference to me and my position though. Savannah had been raised by a rockstar whose fans would and could turn mean. She'd experienced the nastier side of life as she'd told me so often back in the early days, so while I knew escaping her guards was something she might have done before our marriage, becoming a Fecker bride had made her more security conscious.
Thank fuck.
With shit up in the air, I didn’t need her going off half-cocked without any security measures in place.
Lucas was on her too. I didn’t know the man as well as I should, but I knew he was conscientious. I knew he’d keep Savannah safe until I could.
My cell buzzed as I made it to West Orange.
I growled when I saw it was Conor.
Definitely not in the mood for achatwith him, I hit the button on my steering wheel and snarled, "Conor, I don't give a damn if the Five Points' empire is about to sink into quicksand. I’ve got more important shit to do today than talk about Russians, ECD, or the fucking Sparrows."
"You should start with that when you suck up to Savannah."
"Excuse me?" I demanded, mouth gaping at his statement.
"Start with that when you suck up to Savannah," he repeated.
There was a slurping sound, and I hissed, "Are you eating ice cream?"
"I am."
I knew what that meant.
Ma never allowed dessert before we ate.
And if that didn’t make me feel about five fucking years old, I didn’t know what would.
Jesus H. Christ.
"Why aren't you at the house?" I snapped.
"I didn't want to go."
"You have to be there. Ma'll lose her shit if I'm not there and you ain't either."
"She'll just have to lose her shit then, won't she?" Conor drawled nonchalantly. "Anyway, Uncle Paddy said he’ll go instead of me. You know he'll cheer her up. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a crush on her—"
"Don't be so disgusting," I spat.
"What's disgusting if they make each other happy? You know, that nice feeling that you experience when you're with a person who gets you? Untilyoufuck it up, of course."
There it was.
The pointed barb.
'Untilyoufuck it up.'
