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God, I hope I do.
“Maybe she’s trying to look at it objectively like I am. Have you thought of that?” His eyes bore into mine.
“Be done,” I warn.
He sighs. “Fine. I won’t say another word. Happy?”
“Not exactly, but thank you.”
“What do you want to do today? I haven’t had a weekend off in forever.” His mood seems to change, lightening, which is a good sign.
“Be lazy,” I tell him, because that’s exactly what I want. I want to relax, not thinking about any of the shit on my plate and just enjoy this, enjoy them, while I can.
And that’s exactly what we do.
Drago walks down to the corner market an hour later, getting us breakfast, and then the three of us lounge on my couch, watching movies, and it’s one of the simplest but best days I’ve ever spent that didn’t include my family.
Then again, maybe this is a new beginning with a new family.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Walking up the steep steps to the second floor of my complex with Gabe planted on my hip and holding his new stuffed monkey between us as well as Ms. Lincoln’s grocery bags in my other hand, I’m in the best mood. I wrapped up a case earlier than expected, so when I stopped by to pick up Gabriel, I had one of those spur-of-the-moment ideas to take him to the zoo.
I know he won’t remember any of it, but he turned five months old today. He needed celebrating. And I have no idea how much longer I’ll have with him. The state could take him away from me at any moment. I pray they don’t because I need more time to get Drago to warm up to him before he finds out Gabriel is his son. If this past weekend is any indication of the type of father he would make, then there’s hope. D has been staying most nights at my condo, except last night, and he’s been heavily involved in helping me with the baby—his baby.
It’s a good thing, but when he does learn the truth, where will that leave me?
I’ve gotten attached.
Too attached.
I love this little boy. Is that so wrong? He isn’t mine, I fully know that, yet I can’t help but feel like he is. I’ve been caring for him for two months now. I wake up to him every morning, and I go to sleep with him on my mind while he’s in the next room.
Once I reach my floor, I head straight to Ms. Lincoln’s condo first to drop off her things. Grocery shopping is the least I can do for the lady when she needs it.
Switching the bags to the hand, I’m holding the baby with, I grip the sacks with my fingers so I’m able to knock on her door. When she doesn’t answer after a long moment, I knock again.
Still no answer.That’s strange.
She rarely leaves unless she is going to walk down to the coffee shop not far from our building. But that’s only on the weekends to meet one of her lady friends. Plus, she knew I would be back in a couple of hours with the groceries she asked me to pick up. Surely, she would have texted or called if she were going to leave.
About the same time I blow out a frustrated puff of air out of my mouth, Gabriel becomes fussy. He’s been relatively good since I picked him up at noon. It’s just after five in the evening now, so I know he’s tired and ready for another nap.
“I know, sweet man.” Squeezing him to me, I brush a kiss to his little forehead as I turn toward my door across the hall. “Let’s get you into bed. Your dad should be here in a couple of hours. I want you well rested when he arrives.”
I’ve been referring to D as his dad when we are alone. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. Calling him by his name doesn’t feel right.
Putting that out of my head, I think about all the things I need to get done before D gets here. I need a shower. I stink, well, we stink from walking around the zoo these last couple of hours. I have dinner to prepare and I want to impress the Italian part of Drago with the meal I’m cooking. He may only be half-Italian, but he’s admitted Italian food is his favorite. Mona, his nanny and housekeeper, spoils him regularly with authentic meals.
A small smile breaks out thinking about him. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d not only be sleeping with an Acerbi but dating one too. Drago isn’t anything like the things I know to be true about his father. And I don’t care what anyone in my department claims; he’s not like Vincent. He’s good. And I’m breaking the rules by secretly seeing him. That part of this whole mess is weighing on me hard. I hate it, but it has to be this way until I prove Drago isn’t in bed with the dirty drug lord he’s suspected of being involved with.
I just need more time. So far, Tom hasn’t brought up planting Houston under Drago’s nose, so until he does, I’ll keep my mouth shut there.
But if he tries to, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Drago says there are discrepancies in his shipments. Maybe if he would let me help him figure it out, then I could say Drago divulged these things to me in order to clear his name.
It’s an angle to use at least.
What if someone on the inside, without Drago knowing, is planting drugs in with his shipments? Maybe his father is still pulling strings from Italy without D knowing.
