Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

West Scott

“ O h, thank fuck.” Someone was rewarding me for getting stuck in traffic on my way into Center City. I’d lost forty-fucking-five minutes because of an accident that’d lured out more cops than ambulances. Two guys had been apprehended, so I didn’t feel bad for being pissy. But now, thank you, Grade A parking just across the street from the Irish pub.

That never happened. I always had to hunt down a garage.

I climbed out of my car and was immediately met by that warm, humid stench of garbage.

Ah, Philly.

I folded up the sleeves of my button-down and peered at the pub. Mick’s Pub. Through the semi-tinted windows, I could tell the place was packed. The muted bass from loud Irish punk rock pounded its way through the exterior too.

Three guys stood outside, guarding the door, one significantly older than the other two, who looked like teenagers.

Were they all Sons? Or future Sons?

After locking up and paying for the parking, I crossed the street and felt like I was entering the lion’s den.

The older guy straightened when he spotted me. “This is a private event.”

“I think there’s supposed to be a list,” I replied. “West Scott?”

He dug a Post-it out of the pocket of his hoodie and flashed it to me with a smirk. “This you?”

There was only one name on there.

I let out a chuckle and nodded with a dip of my chin.

The UP had arrived.

The guy opened the door for me, and the music poured out, along with laughter, yelling, and horrible singing.

There had to be at least fifty or sixty people here.

The bar divided the place into a seating area in the back and a bar area with high tables and a stage in the front. But given how everyone was moving, slapping each other on the back, greeting one another, clinking glasses, and bobbing their heads to the beat, the front was more like a mosh pit.

I was only forty-five minutes late, and yet it looked like these men had been at it for hours.

Not seeing Alfie anywhere, I headed to the bar and ordered a quick warm-up. Because I sensed I needed it. One whiskey, one beer—both had to disappear fast. I had to yell to one of the two bartenders for him to hear me, but my drinks arrived quickly.

When I handed over my card, the bartender merely shook his head and moved on.

All right, then. Was that wise? An open bar with a bunch of Irishmen? I could imagine companies had gone under for far less.

I threw back the shot and chased it down with half the beer.

A round of laughter rose above the din, and I glanced toward the booths that lined the wall toward the back. There. I saw him. Fuck me, I saw him. Another guy had an arm around his shoulders, and they were laughing hard at something. The two were standing by the booth, where another five were seated. Beer and cocktails filled the table, and two of them were actually smoking. Indoors.

One of the men had a woman on his lap, and I was sure I recognized him. It had to be Finnegan O’Shea. I recognized Kellan across from him too, and the man my age—or possibly a few years older—could be Kellan’s husband.

When Alfie checked his watch, I was pathetic enough to hope he was wondering where I was.

He was sucked into their conversation again, and he laughed at what O’Shea said. Whatever it was made the guy with his arm around Alfie’s shoulders crack up and turn his head enough so I got a look at his face. And the resemblance was definitely there. It was Alfie’s…brother. He had a brother. A big brother.

They were dressed similarly, and I wondered if he’d inspired Alfie to buy new clothes.

Either way, I’d never seen Alfie so animated and involved .

Moving lights flashed over the table, and the deep hue of Alfie’s burgundy shirt became more pronounced. He wore it with a dark-blue vest and matching pants, each item hugging his body perfectly.

He reached over and stole Kellan’s cigarette, and he took two quick pulls before returning it. He checked his watch again, then looked toward me. Scratch that, toward the door. He was waiting for me, wasn’t he? Did I just go over there? If he was busy with the boss of the whole organization, I’d rather wait here until he saw me.

I finished my beer and ordered a Guinness next, and then a new song started and caused an ear-deafening roar of approval. It was Dropkick Murphys. Alfie loved that band.

I used to say the most Irish thing about him was his taste in music, but maybe he’d kept things locked up within.

My own heritage was so muddled that I had nothing interesting to cling to. Like so many others in this country, I was a WASP with zero connection to my history. And Alfie… With his mother, he’d leaned more toward his Puerto Rican and Italian heritage, though he’d always been quick to mention the Irish too. Truth be told, when I thought about it, it was as if he’d been waiting for something. Or searching. Searching for that Irish place to call home.

I’d say he’d found it.

Oh, screw it. If I wanted a place in his world, I had to enter it. I couldn’t stand on the sidelines and wait for him to visit.

I braced myself and walked over, and he spotted me when I was a few feet away.

The way he lit up brought me more relief than was appropriate. Fuck, I was too attached.

“At fuckin’ last!” He closed the distance between us. “You’re late!”

I didn’t want to shout over the music, so I dipped down and spoke in his ear. “Traffic. But I’m ready to meet your mobster buddies now.”

He laughed and grabbed my arm, quick to usher me over to a group of Irishmen watching me curiously.

“Everyone, this is West!” He addressed me next and pointed to the others as he introduced them. “Colm, Kellan, Shan, Finn, Emilia—and this is Liam.”

There was no use in speaking, so we exchanged nods and handshakes, and it was so beyond bizarre. Here I was, shaking hands with Finnegan O’Shea, the Sons of Munster’s very young boss. He was, what, a year or two older than Alfie?

Emilia and the man called…Shan? They appeared the nicest. Emilia was all but beaming when she shook my hand, and Shan offered a polite smile—but the rest were clearly assessing me. Especially Finnegan and Liam.

“Okay, we’ve waited long enough!” Alfie yelled to Colm. “You gonna hit the stage or what?”

The air shifted, and Finnegan and Kellan raised their glasses and hollered their agreement with Alfie. And Colm didn’t seem to mind; he grinned and jumped to his feet.

Within seconds, he was walking through the crowd on his way to the stage, and he had everyone stomping their feet and shouting his name.

“You know I brought your whistles, baby!” Emilia grinned at Finnegan, who seemed to groan and laugh at the same time. “You promised!”

We were evidently going to the stage, so I let Alfie lead the way until we were standing a bit to the side, but still close to the little platform that was packed with instruments.

“Colm, Colm, Colm, Colm!”

Alfie shot me a grin and clinked his beer bottle with my glass, and then he reached up and got close.

“I’m glad you came!”

I smiled and mustered a nod. To be honest, the jury was still out, but I was always too happy to be near Alfie.

As musicians joined Colm on the stage, the music died, and everyone huddled closer.

“Drunken Sailor!” someone yelled.

“An Irish Pub Song!” another shouted.

“Considering they’re the only ones he knows, he’ll do both, you fuckers!” Kellan hollered back at the crowd.

I chugged my Guinness, because one thing was clear. If I was going to enjoy myself tonight, I had to loosen up.

Next, I took advantage of the lower volume—which was still too loud—and asked Alfie where Colby was.

He smirked. “He’s having fun with kids his own age out back. Don’t worry about him.”

I wasn’t…worried. I was curious.

When Finnegan and Emilia appeared close to us, someone came over and set down a bar table—actually two. Two bar tables created a barrier between us and the crowd that looked ready to make my fears come true. There was going to be a mosh pit, wasn’t there?

Alcohol followed—a lot of it—and two guys positioned themselves as security guards to make sure no one knocked into the tables. Two bottles of whiskey, stout in glasses, lager in bottles, shot glasses, vodka, and a few mixers ended up right in front of Alfie and me.

Shan and Liam joined us on this side, while Kellan disappeared into the crowd.

Alfie looked tempted.

I nudged him and nodded toward Kellan. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

The soundcheck appeared to be over, and Colm spoke into the mic about traditions and staying connected to the “home country.” His accent revealed he wasn’t from here originally. He was definitely from Ireland.

Alfie had made his decision. He poured himself a shot, threw it back, grimaced, and then touched my arm.

“Drink liberally and generously, West. That way, I’ll sound better when I sing later.” With that said, he was gone.

My eyebrows flew up. He was singing?

Granted, I knew he had a lovely voice. He used to sing to our children—and maybe he still did. But I presumed he wouldn’t be performing lullabies here.

“Oi! Pipe down!” Colm yelled into the mic. I winced and figured I might as well pour myself a shot or two too. I’d already been prepared to pick up my car in the morning. “The boss will sit this one out but has promised to join us with the whistle later.”

Emilia pouted up at her husband.

Finnegan chuckled. “Quit it. I’ll play in a bit.”

Emilia was about to respond when the music started with a recording of an Irish flute. The whistle they’d been talking about? I’d heard of tin whistles.

A beat later, the drummer started, followed by Colm on vocals, and his voice was…rough.

Within twenty or so seconds, the pub exploded with energy as the rapid beat of the music tore through the establishment. Alfie and Kellan were immediately sucked into the atmosphere and evidently knew the lyrics. They shouted every word along with the others, jumped around, and slammed their fists in the air. I swallowed hard and exhaled unsteadily, seeing a man I’d never met before.

I’d thought Alfie was a wild spirit back in LA when he’d been so honest and… Well, he’d never hesitated to give me the dirtiest suggestions in the most inappropriate situations, but this was so different. He was having fun with peers now. He had friends, he had a place in which he wasn’t alone, and?—

I noticed Shan moving closer, and he leaned in. “He fits right in.”

I swallowed.

Yeah. Alfie fit in here.

Where did that leave me?

I tilted my head at Shan and spoke loud enough for him to hear. “You don’t want to throw yourself in the pit?”

He laughed and grabbed a beer from the table. “I don’t think so—but I enjoy watching.” He tipped the bottle toward Kellan and Alfie. “When Kellan’s nursing his hangover in the morning, I’ll play a round of golf before I come home with breakfast.”

I stood a little straighter and automatically managed to tune out the music at least a little.

“You play?”

He smirked faintly and inclined his head. “Alfie told me you do too.”

“I do. So, as you can see, this isn’t my world,” I chuckled.

He smiled and clapped a hand on my back. “You can belong to more than one world, West.”

Could I?

And for what reason? My goal—Alfie’s too—was for us to find common ground to be friends. We both wanted to bury the hatchet so we could spend time together with our children without them picking up on hostility between us. I didn’t need to attend parties with Alfie for that. Tonight was most likely a fluke. An olive branch. He wanted me to see this so I would gain an ounce of understanding about the people he now referred to as family.

Shan moved on to his son and daughter-in-law, and I spent the next twenty minutes listening to Irish punk rock and watching Alfie come alive. When Colm left the stage, someone else took over.

I stopped drinking.

I’d had three beers and two shots, and nothing was happening. It wasn’t my night. I felt warm and somewhat at ease, but I wasn’t feeling that intoxication I’d aimed for. So I stuck to water, and I started doing the math. Could I drive in a few hours? I wasn’t sure. Perhaps if I ate something…

“It’s time!” the guy onstage declared. “Who will answer Ireland’s call?!”

“The Sons of Munster!” the crowd roared.

Jesus Christ.

Emilia cheered and exchanged a hard kiss with Finnegan before he made his way to the stage.

Liam and someone I didn’t recognize followed, and fuck me if Alfie didn’t too. He was getting up there with the others.

“This is gonna be amazing!” Emilia gushed.

Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped drinking?

Oh, fuck it.

I downed two shots of vodka in quick succession and hoped for the best.

They made room for a keyboard on the stage, and Liam grabbed the mic.

“Tonight’s a bit different from last month,” he said. Then he draped an arm around Alfie’s shoulders, and I went rigid. “Ye see, tonight, we welcome me little brother to the family.”

“At long fuckin’ last!” Kellan whistled sharply and applauded with the rest.

Dread crept up my spine at the same time as the happiness on Alfie’s face couldn’t be clearer. He didn’t shy away or get embarrassed. He stood tall, grinned widely, and accepted the cheers.

“What can we say about Alfie O’Dwyer, boss?” Liam turned to Finn. “We know he’s a good lad with a bleeding heart, and he wants to keep his hands clean.” That was followed by a wink at the crowd, who cracked up. “We don’t know if he’s alone. Because who fuckin’ knows how many bastards me old man’s got hidden away.” More laughter, even from Alfie and Finn. “And now, let’s find out if the fucker can sing!”

Alfie O’Dwyer. The Sons of Munster.

Was this Alfie’s version of keeping a low profile? Because everyone knew him now.

I found it impossible to believe he wasn’t going to be on the radar of the local police and the FBI within weeks.

Finnegan, Liam, Alfie, and the guy I didn’t know the name of formed a row in front of the microphone, and the music started out calmly, not to mention hauntingly beautiful. Keyboard and tin whistle—plus three men trying to get into a more serious mind-set, which couldn’t be easy after half a dozen drinks each. Finnegan, though. Christ, I never would’ve imagined how talented he was.

The rest of the musicians filled in, along with a track that was prerecorded, and Liam leaned closer to the mic. However, Alfie picked that moment to make himself heard.

“Shut the fuck up! I’ve practiced in the car all day!”

Everyone cracked up, and Liam had to kill his chuckles before he sang the first verse.

I took a deep breath, unable to deny he was very good. The lyrics struck me hard, most of all. He sang of men standing side by side, like brothers, always united, and ready to fight for Ireland.

By the first chorus, the whole pub was taking part by singing along with their glasses raised. Shoulder to shoulder, they were going to answer Ireland’s call. The men on stage stood shoulder to shoulder too, arms around each other, with Finn as the exception as he played the whistle.

The guy whose name I didn’t know belonged at the damn opera. His voice gave me chills, and then Alfie followed. One part humor, one part heart. It was so him . I recognized him—that was the man I’d fallen in love with, the man I’d married. The man who sang about following a guiding star and meeting his destiny.

My eyes suddenly stung, and I had to push back foolish emotions.

Never before had I been so goddamn conflicted about pretty much everything in my life, but one thing was clear. I had to stop thinking I didn’t know him. I knew him so fucking well, because I knew his core. I knew his heart.

The men cranked it up on all fronts and raised the roof with cheers and people singing along. And the lyrics went on repeat in my brain. It was all Ireland, brotherhood, and unity.

This was Alfie and everything he’d longed for.

I knew him, and yet…he was heading in a direction that made me feel like he was slipping through my fingers. Despite that I’d lost him two years ago. Or before then.

“You can belong to more than one world, West.”

I wasn’t so sure. Alfie and I had tried, and it’d wrecked us both.

Now, though, Alfie was moving on. He was healing.

I shouldn’t have come here tonight. My head was too fucked to take in another realization, and every emotion was drenched in my bitterness because I was unable to fall out of love with him. If I hadn’t missed him so much, loved him so much, then maybe I would’ve been happy for him, because God …he was finally finding his way.

I supposed there’d always been that small disconnect between him and the rest of his family on Giulia’s side. His cousins spoke Spanish—or, the ones on his dad’s side, didn’t live nearby and were busy with their own lives. He loved them all and got along with them very well for get-togethers and holidays, but they didn’t have that kind of dynamic where they met up for a beer after work or called each other in the middle of the week. Alberto was the exception, except…their relationship had primarily revolved around the kids the past few years.

With the O’Sheas and Murrays, it was so different. This life had become part of Alfie’s identity.

But I still know him. I see the man I married in there. I know what every smile means. I know what makes him tick, what drives him, and what he likes for breakfast. I know his ticklish spots, his favorite meal, and what he wants when he cuddles closer and buries his face against my neck.

I cracked open a new beer and chugged from it.

The song was over, and I was losing it.

Was I fooling myself? Anyone who asked would know his favorite meal. It was like knowing someone’s favorite color. It didn’t mean shit.

As the men jumped off the stage and the music blasted from a stereo again, Alfie glanced my way, and I caught his smile. One of the many I knew the meaning of. He was happy, a little nervous, hopeful, and somewhat drunk.

More than that, I felt the connection between us blazing like wildfire. And there it was. It was our history. Nine years of everything. Falling in love, sharing everyday moments, fighting, laughing, making plans for the future, bickering, reading each other, being there, more fighting… Countless memories flicked past, leaving behind echoes of laughter from when he’d almost burned down the kitchen, groans from hot nights of heavy fucking, the sensation of his fingers digging into my shoulder blades, the scent of the body wash we’d shared in LA, the sound of his quiet sniffles when Noelle had become ours, and the feel of his fingers in my hair when he’d admitted to wanting a second child.

Alfie had been desperate for me to believe him when he’d said everything had been real, at least up until we’d left LA. After that, he’d started slipping because he hadn’t known how to act, and…and I trusted him. But what we’d shared once we’d moved back here had been just as real too, because otherwise, it wouldn’t have hurt so damn much.

I watched him bump fists and shake hands with other Sons, and I watched him laugh with Liam. And somewhere deep inside, things settled for me. I never wanted Alfie to fake anything in order to fit in somewhere ever again. I wanted him happy and at peace with his own decisions.

If this was his world, regardless of how I felt about it, regardless of how small my part would be in it, I had to accept it. Just like he’d done with mine.

No one could ever accuse him of not trying to fit into my universe.

I felt like I lost some tension in my shoulders with this last beer.

Alfie glanced over at me again, and I managed to return his smile this time. Then he excused himself and started making his way toward me.

My smile widened automatically, and it hit me how badly I wanted some alone time with him. Perhaps we could find a quiet corner or step outside for a moment. He deserved to hear how fucking amazing he’d been onstage, which I’d robbed myself of embracing completely with my mental gymnastics.

He walked right up to me and set an empty bottle on the table, and I couldn’t help but slip a hand to his side. We leaned closer at the same time, and once I realized he was going to say something, I kept my mouth shut.

“Wanna sneak out for a smoke?” he asked.

I nodded right away. That was precisely what I wanted.

I followed him through the crowd, probably staying much too close to him, but he didn’t complain. Or he didn’t notice. Either way, I could blame all the criminals we were surrounded by.

The second we stepped outside, I took a deep breath and was so certain I’d feel relief from the fresh air. Instead, it was somewhere around eighty degrees, and Center City smelled like a dumpster.

“Urgh—I was hoping for a chill to cool me off,” Alfie said.

I rubbed my ears quickly, not used to the silence.

The alcohol had affected me more than I’d originally thought, and I wanted to lean against something, so I waited until a couple cars had passed before I crossed the road.

“You found parking here?” he asked incredulously.

“It shocked me too,” I replied. I unlocked my car and opened the passenger’s side door to grab my cigarettes from the glove compartment. “Can we just make a deal right away that the children never see us smoke?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Okay, good. We met up on the sidewalk, and I lit two smokes for us.

“So what did you think?” He accepted one of the cigarettes and leaned against my car. “Thanks.”

I took a drag from my smoke and rested my side against my door. “You were incredible.” I exhaled skyward and caught his little grin. “You looked…right at home.” It stung to say it, but I had to acknowledge it.

He smiled and turned enough so he could glance at the pub across the street. “A part of me definitely feels like I’m home.”

His confirmation didn’t hurt any less.

“Only a part of you?”

He chuckled through his nose and rested his arm on the roof of the car. “The other part will always be lost, I reckon.”

Why? Because of us? Because of me? Or something else entirely?

“I never thought I’d grow so close to some of them,” he admitted. “Especially Liam.”

“That’s riveting. How come a part of you will always be lost?”

He rumbled a laugh and scrubbed a hand over his face.

I smiled, fully aware I hadn’t been smooth, and I shifted a little closer to him. I did want the details on his newfound family, including Liam, just not right now.

Alfie flicked away some ashes and watched them disappear on the sidewalk. “It can’t come as a surprise to you that our divorce broke me.”

No, I knew it’d shattered us both. But he was putting himself back together, wasn’t he?

I reached out and fixed a button on his vest that was coming undone. “You didn’t look broken on the stage.”

Did he have to be so goddamn beautiful? And his brand of beauty had an edge to it, even more so now with his ink on display. Sleeves folded up, nice clothes that fit him like a glove, a sexy watch… It wasn’t the same one he’d worn before, and I instinctively stepped closer and lifted his wrist.

It was a very nice Baume only this time, I positioned myself in front of him, leaving just a foot of air between us. Because I couldn’t fucking help myself. This was what he did to me. “My latest obsession takes up all my time.”

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and peered up at me. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to blame me for something?”

I grinned. “Maybe because you know it’s most definitely your fault?”

A spark of sexy rebellion lit up his eyes, and he took one last drag from his smoke, then extended it to me.

I took a quick pull from it too, then put it out and threw it in the bin.

“So tell me about the obsession,” he said.

“I thought it was obvious.” I forced myself to stick my hands in my pockets as I returned to him. I didn’t need to do anything stupid. Although…I was too weak to make any promises. “I’m busy processing the mobster drama in your life.”

He shook his head in amusement. “Before Kellan offered me a job, he jokingly insisted it was a comedy club.”

How fitting. Because they were known for making people laugh?

“How come you never wanted me to meet him before?” I asked as the thought struck me. “I remember asking after the time I saw him in passing—I suggested we have him and his husband over for dinner—and you… I don’t recall what you said, only?—”

“I said we didn’t have that kind of friendship anymore,” he replied quietly. The mirth had faded, and I detected guilt and discomfort in his eyes. “I hated lying to you, West. By inviting them over, I’d have to put up with a whole other level of deceit.”

Of course. I nodded with a dip of my chin, and I supposed I could thank the alcohol for rendering my anger dormant. Or perhaps I truly was moving on. God, I hoped so. Anger took a toll on me.

“I’m glad you invited me tonight.” I cleared my throat and flicked a glance at the traffic. It was dying down somewhat, but when someone honked at another, it made me wish for more privacy. “I needed to see it for myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although…your definition of keeping a low profile needs major work.”

He exhaled a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s only for family events. You won’t find me at a sit-down or whatever.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “If there are wives present, it’s safe.”

Good to know.

“But you can’t tell me you believe the authorities won’t notice you.”

“No, they will,” he said with a shrug. “I just don’t have the energy to give a fuck anymore. They won’t be able to tie me to anything illegal. They’ll confirm my relation to Liam and Finn, and maybe some rumors will fly, but they’ll have no justifiable cause to turn me into a case.”

I inhaled through my nose and let his words settle. Maybe he was right. No matter what, it was oddly refreshing and reassuring to hear his confidence. He was no longer floundering or trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

I’d always been inexplicably drawn to that side of him, and it’d been a long time since it’d made an appearance.

“So this is who you are,” I murmured. “An unashamed, unapologetic Son of Munster.”

He offered a grin that faded as quickly as it’d appeared, and he reached out and brushed away a stray speck of ash from my shirt.

“I have too many regrets to be unapologetic,” he replied quietly. “I just… I’m done pretending and trying to fit in where I don’t belong.”

Fuck. Shan’s words came back to me, and I instinctively wanted to parrot them to Alfie, about how we could belong in two worlds—but why was it suddenly true? Because it was Alfie and not me?

“I don’t want you to have regrets.” I took another step closer, bringing us mere inches apart, and…fuck it. I cupped his cheek in my hand and made him look me in the eye.

The vulnerability in his bluish green eyes stole my ability to speak for a moment. It was too dark to see the gold flecks at the center, but I knew they were there.

“I don’t want you to pretend either.” I brushed my thumb over his dark scruff. I liked it. He used to be clean-shaven, but he looked damn delectable in a trimmed beard. “That includes now—not only when we were together.” I had to say it. “If you offered to leave all this behind for whatever reason, I wouldn’t want you to.”

He knitted his brows together. “For whatever reason? There’s only one. And are you fucking serious? You wouldn’t want me to walk away from…”

“No,” I replied firmly, letting my hand fall again. “It doesn’t matter how much I fear and despise the organization you’re part of, Alfie. If we want an honest chance at sharing something genuine as co-parents, it has to be real.”

He swallowed and lowered his gaze to the curb. “I’ve thought about making that offer, you know.”

I took a deep breath and?—

“But I’m so sick of being lonely,” he whispered. “Let’s face it. I’m never gonna meet someone new?—”

“I—”

“Please let me finish.” He glanced up at me again and swallowed hard. “I get it, West. In the end, I turned out to be someone you might be friends with someday because we have kids together. You’ll need that distance. I mean, you can accept who I am and what I do because it doesn’t have to affect you that much. We don’t live together, we don’t share our lives. At the end of the day, you can close the door and find comfort in that my mess isn’t yours to deal with.”

“Alfie—”

“ No .” His voice came out in a low almost-growl. “But I’m not you,” he said, taking a calming breath. “There is no moving on for me.” His eyes welled up a little, and I coughed and nearly swallowed my tongue. “It’s gotten a lot worse recently too, because I—fuck. I don’t know. When you told me you had a date, I got so fucking jealous, and then I tried to taunt you—which you never responded to, and it pissed me off, ’cause I kept picturing you with other guys, and you’re only supposed to be fucking me .”

My brain short-circuited at the switch—to go from something as monumental as confessing he couldn’t move on, the gravity of such a statement, to then…go to sex. His jealousy. Claiming I was only supposed to be fucking him.

My mouth went dry, and I didn’t know whether to laugh—partly because I was terrified to admit I couldn’t move on either—or let out my frustrations and shake him forcefully because I didn’t need more images in my goddamn head. Did he honestly think I was completely over him? He couldn’t be that stupid. If I hadn’t cared about him, I wouldn’t be here tonight. I wouldn’t try to mend gaps and rebuild bridges. Same went for…intimacy.

“ Have you fucked anyone else?” He slipped his hands up my chest, and I clenched my jaw and drew a breath through my nose.

“No,” I gritted out.

Less than a minute ago, I’d been ready to push my luck. Now, he was doing the pushing, and it made me feel weak because I couldn’t fucking resist him.

“Have you?” I muttered, dreading the answer.

Alfie was much more casual around sex than?—

“You kiddin’ me?” He pulled me closer, effectively trapping himself between me and the car. “Who could ever measure up? I haven’t even been interested in anyone else, whether they were hitting on me or not.”

Jesus fuck.

He knew exactly how to reel me in. He knew how to balance on the razor-thin line between my possessiveness and the smug bastard who still loved how much I’d owned him. Yet, it was a bleak comfort because it was in the past. But if he was proposing a more physical trip down memory lane, there wasn’t a chance in hell I could deny myself the pleasure of pretending I owned him again.

“I’m sure many men have tried.” I leaned against him a little and caged him in by resting my arms on the roof of the car. “Especially when you’re wearing pants like those.” I wanted to mention the rest of his clothes too, but I wasn’t sure if this was another facade he was putting up or if he really liked them.

“I was wondering if you’d noticed.” He tried to crack a smirk, though I could detect too much anxiousness in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if this was happening or not. “It’s not gonna be an everyday style for me, but I think I look hella hot.”

I smiled faintly. “You do. But then, you always looked hot when you were comfortable.”

He bit his bottom lip briefly and flicked a glance at my mouth. “So you didn’t like me in a suit…?”

“I didn’t like you pretending,” I murmured. The heat between us intensified when he shifted against me, and I dipped down a few inches to graze my nose along his jaw. Goddamn, he always smelled incredible. “Do you remember my favorite pair of pants of yours?”

Rather, pajama bottoms with tiny Santa hats on them.

He’d bought them as a dirty Christmas gift, and he’d waltzed into our bedroom, only to reveal the opening in the back.

“Remember? I still have ’em.”

I cursed under my breath and nipped at his jaw.

He exhaled shakily and slipped his arms around my midsection. “Do you miss my ass, papi?”

I miss every fucking part of you, baby.

I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him, unable to wait another second. After over two years, I felt his lips against my own again, and I couldn’t fucking believe it. We deepened the kiss at the same time, and it was like coming home. I swept my tongue alongside his and earned myself a needy little sound from him as he shifted his arms to lock them around my neck. That switch hadn’t changed; we started out with my cupping his face, and then when he wanted his arms around my neck, my hands went to his hips.

Cling to me just like that.

A deep-seated desire pulsed through my bloodstream, bringing me back to life, and I had to suck in a sharp breath to release pressure. It was a shock to my system to finally get to be so close to him. To be able to touch him, kiss him hard, and have his hands on me.

Two years of being utterly deprived of the touch I craved the most.

I squeezed him to me before I let one hand slide down to his perfect little ass.

He whimpered into the kiss and pressed himself impossibly closer to me.

God-fucking-dammit. I gripped his hips again and made sure he could feel my cock.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath. “I live seven blocks away.”

I cursed and envisioned how quickly I could have him writhing under me, begging for my cock, begging to come?—

I broke away for a hot second and swallowed. “What about the party?”

“I’ll go in and say goodbye—you get us an Uber.” He was quick to capture my mouth with his again, and I groaned quietly and got swept away again. “Colby’s stayin’ with his cousin.”

Right. There was the kid too. Okay, good to know.

Alfie and I made out like teenagers, and I couldn’t fucking describe the energy that buzzed through me like an electric current. It was as if I’d walked around like a deflated balloon for two years, and now I was soaring toward the sky once more.

“Go tell them you’re leaving,” I said huskily. “I want you naked under me in twenty minutes.”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathed. “I miss your cock so much.”

“Trust me, it misses you too.” I stole one more tongue-teasing kiss before I backed off and adjusted myself in my pants.

Alfie whispered a string of fucks under his breath and righted his clothes. “I’ll hurry.”

“Wait, wait—” He broke away panting, and he reached for something. The alarm. He input the code, and the beeping stopped. “Okay, good to go.”

I kissed him again and blindly reached back to lock the door. Keys landed somewhere. A lone side-table lamp was flicked on. Then we were moving toward the stairs, and I started unbuttoning his vest as he began undoing my shirt.

It was messy and ineffective, and we climbed about five or six steps before my urgency got the best of me. I pushed him up against the wall, causing the pictures to rattle, and unbuckled his belt.

“Fuck, fuck—yeah, off,” he panted. “I need it, papi. I need it so bad.”

I tossed the belt aside, undid his pants next, and then grabbed him by the throat when I had my other hand ready to slide down his underwear.

He gasped and moaned, and he tried to buck against me.

“What exactly is it you need, Alfie?”

“ You ,” he pleaded. “Your cock. Whatever you’ll give me.”

“Right answer.” I brushed my lips to his but backed off an inch when he attempted to deepen the kiss. I needed to see him when I slowly reached into his briefs and cupped his cock.

The sheer desperation in his eyes turned me into a man possessed by the devil, and I wanted to torture him for wrecking me over and over. But I already knew I wasn’t gonna be able to drag anything out. I was too weak.

I wrapped my fingers around his hard cock, and my mouth watered. Fuck, how I’d missed him. Every damn part of him.

“You’re teasing me,” he complained.

I smiled and nipped at his bottom lip. “You used to love that.”

“Because you gave me the D regularly,” he argued, out of breath. “It’s one thing to edge me when we last screwed this morning—not when it’s been over two years!”

I chuckled and stroked him unhurriedly. He had a point. But he deserved to be teased a little, especially when he reminded me of what we’d lost. The best sex life I’d ever had. We were both forceful and greedy in bed. Affectionate too. We’d turned late nights into long workouts, followed by an abundance of lazy kissing and holding each other. And food to recharge.

I pressed my wrist against his cock and cupped his balls with my fingers, and his lips parted in a pleading moan. I kissed him swiftly and removed my hand, but before he could protest, I nudged him up the stairs.

“Finally,” he exhaled.

I smacked his ass as we reached the first landing, and I threw a quick glance at the doors to Trip’s and Ellie’s rooms.

Alfie flicked on the stairway lights along the way and tossed me a grin over his shoulder. “How do you wanna play this? Bang one out quick so we can take our time later or?—”

“Yeah, that.” I cleared my throat and followed him up to the third floor. “You’ll be lucky if I last two minutes.”

He turned around on the last set of stairs and bit his lip. “You’ll stay the night, right?”

Goddamn him. As if the wild little animal in him wasn’t bad enough. Paired with the sweeter side of him—the one currently revealing his vulnerability—I was so fucking done for, it was embarrassing.

I stopped one step below him, making him a couple inches taller than me, and I cupped his cheek and gave him a lingering kiss.

“I’m staying.”

He drew a stuttering breath and nodded jerkily. “Good. ’Cause I never thought this was happening, so now that it is…I have plans for us.”

I smiled against his lips and coaxed the tip of his tongue out with my own. “Oh yeah? Care to share?”

He shivered violently, and I took advantage. When the lust-filled haze had a proper grip on him, I spun him around and pushed him forward with enough force that his knees hit the carpet, and then I was towering over him.

“Jesus,” he choked.

“Jesus is part of your plans?” The hunger grew within me tenfold, expanding with each breath, and I tugged down his pants and his briefs. Goddamn perfection.

We weren’t going any farther.

He groaned and gripped the edge of the top step. “No, you bast—fuck. I-I just want you all over. My bed, the roof deck, the shower—it’s huge and has one of those rain functions installed, the one we had at that hotel in Mexico.”

That’d been a fantastic vacation. Just the two of us. Four days of going between the bed, the beach, the restaurant, and the private hot tub.

I shrugged out of my shirt and threw it aside, then undid my pants and pulled out my cock. With one firm stroke, I shuddered and took charge of the planning.

“You forgot a location on your little fuck-list,” I said.

“The kitchen?”

I grinned to myself and slicked up my cock with spit, which he definitely heard.

“Do you still use toys?” I asked.

“Um, yeah, sometimes.” He raised himself up enough to peer over his shoulder, just as I leaned over him and pressed my cock between his ass cheeks. Toys were good. No need to spend half an eternity preparing him. “Are you hungry for me, papi?”

“Is the sky blue?” I reached over and kissed his cheek quickly. “Brace yourself.”

A breath gusted out of him, and I saw the sleek muscles in his back contract.

He was a fucking vision.

I gripped his hip and rubbed the head of my cock against his opening, and I couldn’t look away. I pushed in slowly and watched his hole stretch around me, and despite the pain he had to be in, he pushed back.

I eased a hand over his back in silent comfort, or a reminder. He didn’t have to hurt himself more than necessary. We had time.

We have time.

I repeated the words to myself and got slapped with a dose of reality. This was Alfie . My wild boy and the love of my life. Against all odds, we were here again. I got to kiss him, hold him, and fuck him. I’d never in a million years thought I’d see the day.

“Easy,” I whispered.

“I can’t,” he whimpered. “I need all of you.”

I screwed my eyes shut and pushed in all the way, and I dropped my forehead to the dip between his shoulder blades. Pleasure coursed through me, almost as forcefully as my longing.

You promised me forever.

Right up until that point, something must’ve been switched off inside me. Like I was only feeling fifty percent of what was going on, leaving me almost…cold. But not anymore. I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t treat him like a one-night stand or something temporary. He was supposed to be mine , for fuck’s sake.

I let out a breath and rubbed a hand up his side.

Goose bumps rose across his back, and I felt him tremble under me.

I withdrew my cock before pushing in again, and I set an unhurried pace as I buried my face against his neck. He felt so fucking good that I wasn’t sure how one night was ever going to be enough.

“Tell me about the toys you’ve been using,” I murmured against his skin.

He shuddered and groaned. “M-mostly a dildo in the shower.”

Fuck. I had memories of that too. We’d loved shower sex. And toys.

“With a suction cup?” I bit back a moan and picked up the pace.

He nodded and tensed up a bit.

“Then you’ll get off in the shower,” I told him.

“What did we say about edging?” he snapped. “Fuck, West, you gotta get me off.”

“I will. In the shower.” I leaned away from him and got a firm grip on his hips once more, and I stared at where my cock went in and out of him. He was so damn tight, and the spit offered more friction. Almond oil had been our favorite once upon a time, though this was a close second. “Consider the temporary denial a punishment for thinking you’re in charge of making plans for us.”

His head fell forward, and he bit into his arm. “ Oh my God .” The sound came out muffled.

“Don’t think old rules no longer apply.” I grunted as I slammed in, and I clenched my jaw as the excitement flooded me. “Who’s in charge when you’re needy?”

He let out an adorably unfiltered whine and met my thrust. “You, papi. But it’s torture .”

Well, he deserved that too, as previously established.

“That’s what you get for making me weak.” I came at him harder, enough so the sound of our skin slapping together filled the air, and I got lost in the sensations. In and out, over and over, with him moaning and pleading and pushing back to show how desperate he was.

The heat surged within and brought me closer to the brink, and I couldn’t focus on the intoxicating view between us anymore. I leaned over him, pressing him against the stairs, and fucked him hard.

He gasped and choked.

I sank my teeth into his shoulder as the pressure started becoming too much. Fresh perspiration broke out, and I felt feverish. Fuck, he was too much and not enough at once. The only acceptable amount was daily, and the right duration was forever. One night was a goddamn joke.

I groaned against his flesh, and my boy’s desperate whimpers got me there. My boy, mine, all mine, only mine. I forced myself as deep as I could and started coming. Alfie cried out and reached back to me, grabbing on to my ass.

For one moment, I didn’t know where I ended and he began. I tried to fuse myself to him, and he seemed just as needy for me, which only spurred me on.

The pleasure subsided slowly, with one or two final bursts of come pulsing out of my cock, and I drew a shuddering breath and tried to get my breathing under control.

My appetite was usually quenched for a while after a round with Alfie, but as he’d pointed out…it’d been over two years. So even though my body would require some recovery time, the rest of me wanted to inhale him.

Feeling him squirming under me, I kissed his neck and pulled out carefully. “Ready for a shower?” I murmured.

“I’m ready for you to get hard again so you can fuck me till I come. My dick’s a diamond.”

“As in, a girl’s best friend?” Something my sisters loved to remind me of before Christmas.

They had husbands for that nonsense.

Alfie sucked in a breath and pushed himself up, and I tucked myself back in my boxer briefs and pants.

“I can’t think of a good comeback,” he muttered. “I’m too horny.”

“Good. That means you’ll be on me like a Band-Aid.” I hauled him up with me and hugged him from behind. To be an asshole, I slipped a hand down his pants and squeezed his cock too, causing him to moan and push his ass against me. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Sadist,” he accused.

“Greedy,” I corrected and nudged him up the stairs. “Clingy Alfie is my favorite Alfie.”

He hit the landing and spun around, and he locked his arms around my neck. “Do you mean that? And do I make you weak?”

I’d admitted to that, hadn’t I?

“In a manner of speaking—of course.” I leaned in and brushed my lips to his. “I’m not here because it’s convenient or because I need a quick release.”

He kissed me back chastely, then inched away and chewed on the corner of his lip. “So why are you here?”

Guilt settled around my chest, and I knew his need for me to spell it out was my fault. I hadn’t been nearly as forthcoming as he had—but I hoped he didn’t hold that against me. He’d ruined me once. I couldn’t let him do it again. And as much as I loved being here, needed to be here, it scared the hell out of me.

“Because I can’t be anywhere else.”

He swallowed, gaze flicking with hope and hesitation. “Sorry for pushing, but can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” I replied, without a second thought.

“Okay.”

He wasn’t convinced, and it cranked up the guilt. No fucking wonder. I’d given him the words, but I hadn’t shown him. In terms of my behavior, compared to what we used to share, I had one foot out the door now, and I was certain he could sense it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t bring it up.

The problem was, if I expressed what I wanted—if I let my actions reflect my deepest wishes—I wouldn’t be able to leave.

So what was I to do when my ex-husband, whom I couldn’t get over, needed reassurance and comfort, all while doing an awful job of hiding it? Was I supposed to forget our painful past? Was I supposed to ignore that he was now a fucking mobster? Was I supposed to throw caution to the wind and not consider our son and daughter first?

I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him when I had no words to give him.

My resolve was weakened but not shattered. Not yet. Even when I… Fuck. Even when I acknowledged to myself that if it were up to Alfie, we might have a second chance at a future together. He’d put himself out there with his raw honesty, which was so him. He’d said there was no moving on for him. But what would that future look like? Just entertaining the idea hurt me. Lies would become a standard practice because of what he did for a living. My father would undoubtedly find out once the rumors started flying. I’d have to get used to living with the need to look over my shoulder wherever I went. Maybe I’d even face consequences at work. I didn’t fucking know.

I had one more problem, though. I wasn’t sure a mile-long list of cons could win a war against the fact that I could not for the life of me let go of him.

“Let me take care of you,” I murmured into the kiss. “We can’t go to bed until I’ve seen you lose it.”

He shivered against me and nodded.

He took the lead, and I followed him into his bedroom. Big and open, maybe slightly empty, though that California King was more than a little inviting.

I hadn’t considered the layout up here, but I liked that the space was shared with the rooftop terrace. The pale glow from the moon shone through the glass doors and two windows. This was Alfie’s space—although, I did see one of Ellie’s Barbie dolls on the right-side nightstand.

When she was little and had a nightmare, she’d come to us at night, teary-eyed but trying to be brave, and she’d said her doll or whatever toy wanted to sleep in our bed. She’d had to stay too, of course. She couldn’t possibly leave her doll behind.

Grief slashed through me, a familiar feeling that refused to fade, because I’d never get that again. We’d been such a good family because we’d all loved being a family. Alfie and I had gone all in on the weekend breakfasts, the outings, and… The rougher times too, like when Trip had recovered from his traumatic start in life. Months of nightmares from biological parents who’d neglected him, left him on his own, and mistreated him. Or just the average Wednesday when Ellie had screamed bloody murder because it was bath time.

Before Alfie, I’d been half hopeful, half resigned about children. There’d been a lot of maybes and doubts because I’d never met anyone I’d wanted to start a family with. But Christ… All that had obviously changed with him, and we’d discovered we were born to be Trip and Ellie’s parents.

“Come on. I can give you a grand tour in the morning…” Alfie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bathroom.

I flicked another glance at the bed, and I made a face as unwelcome images flooded my brain.

Before he could open the door, I yanked him to me and nodded at the bed.

“Promise me another man hasn’t shared that bed with you.”

What I really wanted to say was, promise me another man never will share that bed with you.

He looked up at me, confused. “I told you?—”

“I need to hear it. Maybe you brought someone home and fooled around, then stopped before things could get heavy.”

He let out a breath and closed the distance between us with a soft kiss and a hand to my neck.

“You’re the last man I kissed, sucked off, and got fucked by,” he whispered against my lips. Music to my fucking ears. Except, my mind was still on the future. “There’s no one else, West, and no one’s come close.”

There’s no one else.

My eyes burned behind closed lids, and all I could do was kiss him back. I couldn’t have it both ways. Eventually, he would move on, regardless of what he believed tonight. And then, he’d wake up in the middle of the night with someone else’s arms wrapped around him when Ellie came in because…her doll had had a nightmare.

It sickened me.

I kissed him harder and swallowed his whimper, and I welcomed a new round of clinginess from him. He plastered himself to me, and a surge of energy flowed between us. He could suddenly feel my own desperation, couldn’t he?

When he couldn’t find the doorknob behind him, I reached out and opened it, and then we were back to removing each other’s clothes. What was left of them.

I turned on the lights when he pushed down my pants and boxer briefs, and I noticed it was a dimmer switch. One of the few features he’d loved about my house when it’d been his too.

I dimmed the lights and gave the room a cursory glance. True enough, large shower. The whole bathroom was covered in mosaics in shades of grayish blue, with the tiled floor ranging in darker hues.

Alfie kept things tidy, always had, with the exception that every area needed what he called a crap drawer or some sort of container. He had wooden box on the counter next to the sink, and it was labeled “Et cetera.” If I were to dig through it, I’d find Ellie’s hair ties, nail clippers, hair product samples, and crap no one had a designated space for.

I’d smile at another Alfie-ism if I weren’t busy drowning in sorrow. Maybe defeat too. How could I ever fucking turn down the slightest chance at getting him back? And with the sense of impending surrender came ridiculous hope that I was ready to look past all the problems. He was in the mafia? So fucking what! He’d be mine again. It’d be the two of us again, as a family, consequences be damned.

I was losing it. Going around in circles, tweaking my previous reasonings, thinking, rethinking, repeating myself, changing my mind— living in my head . I was done. For the moment, at least. I kissed him harder as he reached into the shower to turn on the water. He mumbled something about it taking a moment to heat up, and I didn’t care. It gave us time to crank this up, so I could escape my inner turmoil.

“Get the dildo and a bottle of oil,” I ordered, needing to catch my breath again.

Considering his reaction, he was game. He rushed over to the counter and opened a drawer, and he dug out the dark-blue toy, along with the suction cup. He said there was a bottle of almond oil in the shower already, and I shouldn’t be surprised. He was still him. Our preferences and habits hadn’t changed. It was like coming home—or stepping back in time to how everything had been a few years ago.

On our third date, we’d gone to an adult store together. Before he’d moved in with me, we’d had a cabinet in the bathroom for massage oils, lubes, and toys.

Alfie had awakened something in me when we’d met. I’d gone from craving something I couldn’t put my finger on—as long as it was better than any lackluster experience I’d had in the past—to getting sucked into a life full of color, passion, all-consuming love, hunger, and excitement.

“I’d like to make a request.” He came up to me again, holding the toy aloft in his hand, and he pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Before you go savage on me again, I wanna take care of you. Worship every inch of your body?—”

I grabbed him by the jaw and halted his seduction as the crushing defeat weighed heavier on me. My heart started pounding, and I didn’t know if he was my ally or my enemy in that moment.

I pushed back against the anxiousness and clenched my jaw. “Haven’t you ruined me enough?” I whispered.

Confusion and hurt flickered past in the briefest of seconds, before determination and sinful heat took over. “Not if I wanna even the score.”

I swallowed and released him. What did he mean— Was he implying that I had— I mean, did he honestly?—

My brain was fried; I couldn’t complete a single sentence, and then it didn’t matter. Alfie kissed me again and dragged me toward the shower, his free hand wandering over my chest, down to my cock, up my sides… And I realized I’d been wrong earlier tonight. The pub hadn’t been the lion’s den.

This was, and I’d stumbled right in.