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“Yeah.” When he waited even longer, I elaborated. “All right. She’s a fucking snack.”
Jagger chuckled. My friend knew me well enough to understand that I barely gave compliments to anyone. And when I compared Francesca to food, what I was really saying was that she was a five-star, ten-course meal at the best restaurant in the world.
Shit. Did I really think that?
“It can’t be all that bad, then,” he said. “Don’t you worry about Paris. I’ll delay the frogs, and you go back to New York, win back your girl and your daughter, then bring them home when you’re ready.” For some reason I couldn’t fathom, he grinned like he wanted to break open a couple of cigars or some shit like that. “Congratulations, Xav. You deserve a bit of happiness.”
At that, I just shoved my head in my hands and groaned. “Happy isn’t really the word for it. She lied to me. About my own kid. There’s no coming back from that.”
“Right, but—”
“You don’t understand. I found out about Sofia, and I swear to God, I’ve never gone from wanting to fuck someone to wanting to kill them so fast in my entire life.”
Jagger munched a bit of fish meditatively while he examined me. “Well, this is you we’re talking about.”
I scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I’m sure you know the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck off.”
He shrugged, like I’d suggested he have some more black pepper. “If it’s really as bad as all that, maybe it is for the best you keep things platonic. If this girl brings out Hyde in you that fast, you don’t want anything to do with her. Best let her go, for her sake as well as yours. Just focus on the kid.”
He was right. I knew he was right. But I didn’t like the churning in my gut when he said, “let her go.”
“What’d you say her name was again?”
“Francesca,” I said immediately.
He shook his head. “You already said that. I meant your kid.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Sofia.”
Again, that feeling like my stomach was turning inside out. I’d only seen her for a few seconds, really. Long enough for the blue eyes that matched mine to laser straight through me. Long enough for every cell in my body to register some odd kind of belonging. Kinship.
“So, what’d the lawyer say? I assume you saw one.”
“Three, actually, and they all said the same thing. Most I can expect right now is joint custody.”
Jagger cocked his head. “You actually want custody. You?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?
“I mean, it’s not like you have a lot of experience with kids. Do you even like them?”
I frowned. “I could like kids.”
Jagger just gave me a long look.
“I could like my own kid,” I amended.
His expression didn’t move.
I finished my ale and sighed. “Anyway, it’s a long shot, and that’s only after I sue for a paternity test and spend the earth proving Francesca’s a poor parent.”
“Well, you can afford it. And she wouldn’t be the first you conquered to get what you want.”
Another stomach flip. When it came to my business, if there was something I wanted, whether it was a particular chef or a property, I’d bulldoze through any obstacle until I got it. But this was different. Jagger was right. I could take Francesca to court for years if I wanted. Bury her in legal this and motion that. Play really dirty and twist her life around.
