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“End of discussion.” She snipes over her shoulder, heading for the stairs. “I’ll figure out a way to call your brother, Eoghan. He’ll help me disappear for good.”
My heart lodges itself into my throat, knowing I need to cut that threat off at the knees.
“Daddy?” Sophie’s voice makes me jump.
“Yeah, honey?”
“What’s for dinner?”
I glance at the clock and realize I should be neck deep in cooking a big Sunday meal for us. I’m so rattled.
This situation with Anastasia is already affecting my daughter and that infuriates me.
“Let Daddy make one call, and then I’ll grill some steaks for us.” The ones we never ate last night.
“I don’t like steak.” Sophie pouts.
“Since when don’t you like steak?”
“Since forever.” She shrugs her little shoulders.
I fight to remember the last time I cooked it for us.
Had she pretended to eat it?
“Can I have chicken nuggets?” she asks, swinging her arms.
I know there are packages buried deep in the freezer for emergencies when I have to work late. Those are not for Sunday dinner. But we never made it to the grocery store because we took so long at the mall.
Now, I’m caught with nothing.
I’m fucking exhausted from the appointment at the hospital, watching a black and white screen reveal the next O’Rourke baby about to be born.
There’s a fully formed son in Ana’s belly, who’s ready to push his way out any day. A son I am ready to call my own.
Finding out the Italians had a hand in Stasia’s disappearance, that she faked a kidnapping with postcards that might have shown up in Astoria, I’m clear in my decision more than ever. Anastasia must stay here. Watching Sophie grow up without her mother softens me that taking the baby away from Ana will hurt her son. A child needs a mother.
But also a father.
I must convince her to stay with me.
Her fake identity held up for more than two years. Just shows how weak her father is. She’s been in a major city all this time. He has no Bratva contacts in Las Vegas?
My daughter stares at me for an answer.
Keeping the frustration out of my voice, I say, “Okay, you can have chicken nuggets tonight. Just this once.”
“Yay!” she chirps and skips to the freezer’s middle drawer.
Sometimes chicken nuggets aren’t the biggest evil or the worst problem.
“What will you and Ana have, Daddy?”
A big fight and hopefully some hot, dirty make-up sex. With her roaming around upstairs, my suspicion grows.
“I’ll be back to cook those.” I tell my daughter, and fly up the stairs two at a time.
I find Ana in my bedroom, trying to figure out how to break into my phone.
