Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Alfie Scott

“ D o you still have the gun I gave you?”

I eyed Kellan in the rearview before I made a turn on Spruce. “Yeah?”

He nodded once and looked out the window. “Start keeping it close when you work. You should hit up a shooting range once a week too. I’ll help you get sorted with the paperwork and a legal gun, which you’ll carry, but we don’t wanna use anything that’s registered.”

“I have that covered,” I replied. I wasn’t completely new. If I was keeping a gun or two around the house, I wanted to know everything there was to know. I could admit I hadn’t gone to the range once a week, but at least once a month the past three years. Around the time I moved out of West’s house, once a day for quite a while.

Ironically, my first run-in with guns had been because of West. He was a gun owner, though not for protection purposes. He’d competed in IPSC and archery as a young snob with too much money.

Then he’d found golf…

“Really? Fuckin’ A.” Kellan was pleased.

A lot was changing, but I didn’t mind. If anything, I welcomed every distraction. Every appointment, every errand.

Kellan could come off as cold and calculating around work, but I appreciated his method. He was protective too, and he wasn’t giving me anything I couldn’t handle. The weeks I didn’t have the kids, I was going to help him monitor and orchestrate shipments coming up from Miami. The rest of my responsibilities stayed the same. I handled his scheduling, and every crew boss who wanted a sit-down had to go through me.

In return, I was gonna make more money, the security around my house would be tightened, and I was getting a new car for the sole purpose of keeping work and personal stuff separated. The car sort of came with a one-bedroom condo near Mick’s pub, which would function as my office and the place where I switched between work mode and private. All things Sons would be kept there. Both Kellan and Finn were adamant about keeping shit separate. Home was sacred. No work around children and spouses, as Finn had said. If the Feds raided my place, they shouldn’t find anything.

I’d seen Finn twice this week, and I’d had to mentally apologize to my mother every time, ’cause I was fucked. I liked Finn a lot. He was so damn family-oriented and protective. Not in a million years would I have expected him to personally set up an appointment to have his guys upgrade my security system. Granted, it was his company I was formally employed by, but he had people to do shit for him. And still, he’d been all ranty about making sure nobody who wasn’t welcome would ever enter my home where my kids were.

I’d been around a minute, so I wasn’t too worried to begin with. I knew what our cops were busy doing, I knew the Sons’ local enemies, and I knew I’d barely be on any radar. That wasn’t na?ve; it was a fact. I’d still be a background worker, for lack of a better term. Because as Kellan had pointed out, they tried to keep the management squeaky-clean.

“You get your fingers dirty, not the brain. You’ll be close to us, and we don’t belong in prison.”

Evidently, I was riding the nepotism train all the way up to management.

I’d felt the shift immediately on Tuesday when Kellan had told me everything I’d said had checked out.

I was gonna be a Son one day.

“Welcome to the brotherhood, mate.”

It filled me with both elation and trepidation. I didn’t know if I was making the right move, but I couldn’t imagine going back either. Back meant rotting away at home and obsessing over West fucking his new man.

I knew they were fucking. He’d hit it off with that guy. I just knew it.

On Friday, Kellan and Finn showed up at my house with three other dudes and a lot of security equipment.

In the meantime, we had work to do, so we headed over to Mick’s for lunch, where we discussed new warehouses and the shipments coming in next week and the one after.

A guy could get used to this. Irish stew, an empty pub, a pint or two, and shop talk I could finally be a part of.

“It depends if you want them in Camden or on this side of the river,” I said.

“Which, in turn, depends on the merchandise and the amount,” Kellan replied. “Not to mention the laws. We go where the laws aren’t as strict.”

That made sense, although for what the Sons had coming into the city on a weekly basis, we weren’t talking minor felonies, regardless of the state.

“With that said, we have more people on the inside in Pennsylvania,” Finn said. “Both beat cops and detectives.”

“DA and lawyers too,” Kellan added.

I nodded and made a vague note in my phone. I’d ask Red Mikey to look into more locations, seeing as we didn’t wanna use the same warehouses frequently enough to create a pattern.

Mick came over with more bread for the table, and he even set an ashtray in the center.

He knew these guys.

Once Mick had left, Finn cleared his throat and gathered up more stew on his spoon. “One thing, Alfie. Trusting you and letting you in so quickly means we’re taking a risk. I hope I don’t have to tell you that if you fuck us over, it’s not just you we’re coming for. Am I making myself clear?”

Clearer than crystal.

Fucking hell.

But I got it. They had a lot on the line and their own families to protect.

“I hear you.” I nodded with a dip of my chin.

“Good,” he said. “I’m not planning on ever reminding you, because truth be told, I’m happy to have you on board. Since Liam’s flying down tonight, I told Emilia what’s goin’ on, and she’s excited to meet you. You can never have too much family.”

First a threat, then a welcome to the family.

I had to grin.

He was a straight shooter. Those kinds of people could hurt you with a single word, but you always knew where you had them. I preferred that. No bullshit.

“I’m starting to agree with you,” I admitted. “I know I’ve said I wasn’t looking to expand my family or whatever, but it’s been a good week. I hope Liam won’t go apeshit. Tell him I have no expectations.”

I truly fucking didn’t. Partly because I felt like I’d lucked out with Finn—and Kellan—already. Kellan had mentioned that Shan wanted to see more of me too. And my kids.

“He won’t,” Finn replied. “Just don’t be surprised if Nessa reaches out on her own. If you’re on social media, she’ll target you there. She can get…overzealous.”

Kellan chuckled. “One brother goes to prison, another one appears.”

Finn sucked his teeth and bit into a piece of bread. “Don’t get me in a pissy mood by discussing Alec.”

“Sore topic?” I guessed.

“You can say that,” Finn grumbled. “I was in his shoes once. That’s years you don’t get back. Stupid fuckin’ punk. Liam and I warned him—we all did. Did he listen? Fuck no.”

“Neither did you at that age,” Kellan told him before shifting his gaze my way. “Speaking of social media. No Sons-related shit in public. If you one day add a syndicate tribute to your ink collection, make sure it’s covered when you post pictures. The Feds will know who you are soon enough—no need to do their job for them by confirming your affiliations.”

“Or put an extra target on your back for our threats,” Finn added. “Right now, things are peaceful, but we have eyes on a freelancing gang outta Miami looking to expand their turf, and when they realize they won’t be able to do that in New York, they might try here.”

“That won’t be a problem,” I assured. “I have an Instagram account that I keep locked, and I never post anything that can reveal sensitive information—including metadata. It’s mostly so West and I can follow what the kids are up to when it’s not our week.”

“All that’s fine, of course,” Finn said. “Emilia’s account is open, and she posts frequently—but it’s all family shit. We wanna make sure we don’t look like we’re tryna hide.”

“On that note, do you wanna be O’Dwyer or Scott?” Kellan asked. “I saw you changed your handle.”

I wanted to be Scott, but that wasn’t happening.

“O’Dwyer.”

When we came back to my house a couple hours later, Finn’s guys were in the middle of installing the automatic shutters on the first floor. Wiring had been run along the hallway to my study in the back down here, then up to the third floor where I had my bedroom. But in all fairness, I had two bedrooms. When the kids were here, I slept in my study because I didn’t want them closer to the front door than me. It was the one flaw with the floor plan. Main bedroom, a big bathroom, and the roof deck on the third floor, a guest room and the kids’ rooms with a shared bathroom on the second, and the living room, kitchen, and study down here. The kitchen had been the main feature to bring the price down a bit, since it was clearly a house big enough for a large family, yet the kitchen was built for ordering takeout. Narrow and pretty small, though it worked for me.

Since losing West, I’d learned to cook approximately ten dishes, and none of them required a lot of space.

Before Finn and Kellan left, they handed over a tablet from which I could run the whole security system, and this was some advanced shit West could go nuts over. He liked technology and gadgets. My new system included both hardware and software. “Never trust shit that requires the internet,” Finn had told me. Which explained why they’d thrown out my previous alarm.

I’d learn it this weekend. I had two hours before I was due to pick up Trip and Ellie, and I had to shower and get groceries first.

The new shutters were easy enough. I controlled them from a panel in the hallway, and they did more than keep the sun out. It was my first line of defense, with some sort of impact trigger that activated an alarm if someone tried to force them open or jimmy with the lock pad on the outside. Lastly, the guys had installed smoke detectors inside that made sure the shutters retracted in case of a fire.

I was a fan.

After my shower, I pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a tee, and I saw West had texted.

Our weekly kiddie update.

We’ve had a good week. Trip fell off his bike on Wednesday and is sporting a Batman Band-Aid on his knee. Other than that, smooth sailing. He’ll probably request cheesesteaks at some point. He’s had a hankering all week. Ellie had a sleepover at a friend’s house (Lainey) and has decided to become a dog whisperer when she grows up. Or a pony inspector.

I smiled to myself, though it faded fast.

I hated this so fucking much. I hated missing out on half their lives. I hated not knowing about things as they happened. I hated these updates.

It was the first I’d heard from him this week. He’d completely ignored my jealous attack the day he’d had his date.

Whore.

I texted back.

Thx for the update. We can do steaks for dinner. There’s a free music festival for kids with food trucks and face painting in Manayunk next week, so we’ll probably go on Wednesday or Thursday.

I guessed he could spend all next week with his man. West had a few more weeks of work before his vacation, at which point they could screw around the clock for five weeks.

Deep breaths.

Fuck my life, I could picture them.

Jealousy burned through me, and I gnashed my teeth and headed for the—what now? Someone rang the doorbell, and I wasn’t expecting company. If it was another pair of Mormon kids on a mission, I swear…

At the same time, I received a new text, but this one was from Kellan.

This is one part “you’re invited” and one part “the boss wants to see you.” Barbecue at his house tomorrow at three. It’s kid-friendly. Liam will be there. My two cents? Bring your tax breaks. It’s not mandatory, but it’ll look good.

Fair enough. I didn’t mind, to be honest. If anything, it might be easier to hide under the kid-friendly barbecue umbrella if Liam’s presence came with storm clouds. Besides, Ellie got along with everyone, and Trip wouldn’t leave my side until he’d grown comfortable.

I’d respond to him after I told whoever to fuck off.

Shite. A glance through the peephole revealed my mom.

Well, I can’t tell her to fuck off.

What was she doing here? She never stopped by unannounced. The times she was in the area for errands, she let me know the day before, the morning of, and during. She tended to avoid Center City because of traffic.

I opened the door and smiled in surprise. “What’re you doin’ here, Ma?”

Why wasn’t she smiling, though? I was her baby. She always smiled when she saw me.

“Enough small talk, mijo .” She strode right past me, clutching her purse, and headed for the kitchen. As she always did.

I scratched my head and relocked the door. “What’sa matter?”

“West called me this morning,” she informed me.

Oh, here we go. Another rant about how I should plead with West for us to work things out. I’d miss half of it, because when Mom got heated, she flipped between English, Spanish, and Italian, and she’d opted out of teaching me two of those languages. I knew swear words and some terms of endearment.

“And?” I asked. They talked from time to time—so what?

I stayed near the end of the counter, ’cause when Ma came over, she had this habit of cleaning my kitchen. She didn’t even notice; she just started wiping down counters and setting things back where they belonged. But if I pointed it out, she’d stop. So I kept my mouth shut.

“He is such a lovely man, baby,” she said, opening my fridge. She grabbed the water pitcher. “He thanked me for the recipe for the bread Ellie likes, and then he asked how we were doing.” She really didn’t need to replace the filter in the pitcher. What the hell? “I asked how he was doing too, of course.”

“I don’t need that update,” I said. “I know he’s been seeing someone.”

She looked to me sharply and knitted her brows together. “He did not mention a man. Are you sure? He talked mostly about work and the kids.”

I shrugged.

“Anyway—I need confirmation before I believe,” she went on firmly. “He did ask me something, though. But I said—not my boy. He would not lie about family.”

I lifted my brows. What the fuck had she been smoking?

“Of course, I know the truth,” she said, pointing to herself. The pitcher went back, refilled, into the fridge, and then she grabbed a packet of wipes from under the sink. “I have lied a lot in my days, Alfie. And I am ashamed I pulled you into that—but I sincerely hope you don’t think you could not tell your own husband about your roots?”

I stiffened.

“I assumed you shared our history with West years and years ago,” she claimed.

Fuck me, fuck me, exactly what had West asked her?

And of-fucking-course I hadn’t shared that with him. When was I supposed to do that—and why? I had a dad. Sorry, but it wasn’t on my list of priorities to discuss that Dad was technically my stepfather. It just wasn’t on my mind. Then, when West had introduced me to his parents, the notion of revealing my history with West flew out the window. ’Cause West’s dad had fucked me up with insecurities. After that, it was best to simply prove I had nothing to do with my heritage.

In my defense, it had been the truth at the time.

“You said it was between you and me,” I replied. “This isn’t a fuckin’ thing in my life, Ma.” Or it hadn’t been. “I don’t go around tellin’ people Dad adopted me. I mean, it was probably gonna come up sooner or later—I wasn’t actively hiding it from West.” At first. Then, yeah, definitely hiding. All the hiding. I did my best to shrug it off before I got lost in my own lies. “Honestly, I don’t think about the past. You and Dad are my parents, end’a story.”

She pursed her lips and faced me fully. “Is that the end, son? Because West wondered where you have been hiding a cousin named Finn.”

Aw, screw me sideways with a chainsaw.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and?—

“Tell me this is not Finnegan O’Shea, Alfie,” she demanded. “He is not your cousin in any way that matters.”

Well…

I made a face, annoyed. But that was all. I had expected way more—anxiousness, nerves, worries. Ma could be scary, and I hated hurting her.

Thing was, I knew where I had to draw the line. At some point, my mom had to accept that I’d acknowledged Finn. I didn’t have many friends in my life, and I liked him and Kellan. What I’d never mention was my affiliations with the Sons, of course.

I might as well get to talking before she lost her English.

“It’s possible I reached out to him through Kellan,” I admitted. “I found out they still knew each other, so I told Kellan the truth.”

“Found out…?” She folded her arms over her chest and cocked a brow. “Excuse me, was I born yesterday? In what universe did you need to find out they were friends? You watched them grow up together! I warned you about Kellan years ago.”

“So? You don’t think people can grow apart?” I couldn’t help it; I got defensive. “Ma, I’m not gonna apologize for wanting more family. It’s not like I reached out to the sperm donor—it’s just my cousin. And maybe John’s eldest.”

And here came the Spanish. We were off with a solid “ Ay, Dios mio ,” before she started ranting and speaking with her hands. She came over to me, visibly angry, and eventually switched to Italian.

It was not an improvement.

Although, I did know the meaning of cazzo .

“Ma! You know I don’t understand. English .”

“Do not raise your voice at me!” She raised her voice at me. Shook her fist at me too. “Do you not understand, ragazzo ? They’re going to recruit you! This is what they do. They make you feel like family?—”

“I am family!” I yelled. Fuck! That burst of anger came out of nowhere and dissipated as quickly as it’d arrived. Shit, shit, fuck. I pinched the bridge of my nose and ignored Ma’s shocked expression.

Goddamn you, West! Mind your fucking business!

She let out an unsteady breath. “You have cousins—who love you, who would never force you to steal and murder.”

I withheld a groan and knew the only way to calm her down was to divulge even more. “Finn isn’t gonna force me to do shit, Ma. For the record, I’ve been working at his company for over three years.” That part was true. Kellan had gotten me employed so that everything looked legit. I’d just never set foot there. “If he was gonna recruit me to do anything, he would’ve done it by now.”

I’d shocked my mom again.

“Your job—the security thing? That’s for Finn? He’s your boss? You already know him?”

“I didn’t say that,” I replied quickly. “I didn’t meet him until this week. I’m just sayin’, I’ve been on their radar for a long time. If they were interested in recruiting to the Sons of Munster, they’d probably start by asking their own employees.”

Ma straightened automatically and folded her arms over her chest again. “So you’re saying that you work for Finnegan O’Shea’s security company, but you never met him until this week, and you are friends with Kellan Ford, and you did not know they were still friends, despite that you grew up watching them in the community?”

Um.

Yeah?

Maybe I needed to learn to bullshit better.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” I shrugged. “It’s not a habit of mine to tell my mates everything. The last thing I wanna do when I meet up with Kellan for a few beers is talk about work.”

“There are evidently many things you’re not in the habit of telling people,” she replied. “I don’t believe you, son. You are lying to me. You’ve lied to West. I don’t buy this story. You’re—” She waved a hand at me, and she was disappointed. “So many times, I have talked to my friends about how fortunate I am. They have children who lie about what they do for a living—and now I see. You are just like those mobsters…?”

I clenched my jaw, and for a chest-tightening moment, I regretted everything. The way she looked at me—I might as well be a stranger.

What the fuck had I done?

“Have you forgotten everything I taught you?” she asked. “All the people we saw when you were little. I would tell you who they were and what they did. I warned you how many of them glorified the Sons of Munster because they happened to look out for our neighborhood. But what about all others? All the money they donate to the church comes from somewhere, you know. Drugs, murders, theft. Can you look me in the eye and promise you will never get involved in their crime organization? Can you promise you are not already involved?”

“We’re about family. We do lie to our loved ones, but there’s no fuckin’ hazing to join. These days, you don’t gotta ice someone in order for us to know you’re with us.”

We do lie to our loved ones…

Finn’s words came back to me, and I couldn’t describe it. A calm washed over me, with resolve and determination.

I was never going to kill anyone. That was the one thing I could promise. But it didn’t matter. I was going to be a Son, and I was going to make sure my parents and everyone else I loved never had to worry about money again. So far, they barely let me pitch in. They had medical bills and whatnot. And one day, they’d be old enough. They wouldn’t be able to continue working, much less resist my assistance—and I could put them in a nice place wherever they wanted. They wanted to retire in Florida? Go for it. They wanted an apartment close to me and the kids? Let’s buy one.

I took a step forward and planted my hands on Ma’s shoulders.

“I’ll admit I’ve kept shit from you, knowing they look bad,” I told her. “But I swear on my life I’m not a Son. I’m interested in getting to know my other family—Finn, Liam…whoever else. Not that piece of shite John. Okay?”

She stared up at me in silence, all her worries and fears flitting by. I could tell how badly she wanted to believe me—and that she wasn’t there yet.

She released a breath and reached up to comb back my hair with her fingers. “It’s been a long time since I made peace with how my baby came to this world. We do things when we get cornered—when we’re barely able to scrape by. And I see him in you, you know. I see the Murrays in your eyes and in every freckle. When you were little—every time Grace picked you up and spoke of your Irish eyes…” She trailed off, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe you’re curious and want more. I don’t know. I just hope you remember what happens in their lifestyle too. It’s not all money and fun times. Grace was murdered in broad daylight just a few blocks away. Did even a year pass before her eldest son was killed?”

She took a step back and reached for her purse on the counter.

“It has kept you safe for thirty years to view her as Grace O’Shea, the woman who was married to a big shot in the Sons of Munster. The woman whose brother offered me a way out.” She leveled me with a serious look. “The moment you choose to consider her your late aunt, you are playing a very different game.”

She had nothing left to say, and I didn’t know how to respond anyway.

Without a word, she walked out of the kitchen and left.

When I drove out to Ardmore a while later, I felt…off. Zero anger, zero worries, zero nervousness. Just…like, a blanket of melancholy. A sense of bittersweet.

I lit up a smoke and rested my arm in the open window. Traffic was aggressive as always. People honked and yelled. I barely heard any of it. I was lost in my head.

I took a drag from my smoke, and the sun’s hot beams landed on my arm.

“Those are my genes protecting you from the sun, mijo ,” Ma used to joke when I was little.

Sometimes, I wondered how my life would have played out if she had changed to another church when I was a baby.

I didn’t even know if I believed in God, and yet religion had played a huge part in my life.

I’d grown up in a predominantly Irish working-class neighborhood, with a generous dose of people with roots in Italy, Poland, Ukraine, and South America. The gentrification had definitely begun, but you could step back in time when you went to church. Father O’Malley offered a glimpse of what the hood had looked like in the sixties and seventies, based purely on the people who showed up for Mass.

Ma had grown up there too, and she’d stayed when her parents decided to return to Puerto Rico. It wasn’t as if my gramps wanted to go to Italy anyway. He’d visited once, and he often said he’d never felt more like an American.

“My grandparents would roll over in their graves—rest their souls—but the only Italian my folks passed on to me was my store.”

“And your temper,” Nana would tease.

Ma hadn’t made much of an effort to bring our heritage to the surface until I was older. But when we’d introduced her to the kids, she’d proudly claimed the Nonna title.

I should call my grandparents soon. Or fly down with the kids and visit.

Nana and Gramps had been sad to learn about my divorce.

I took another drag from the smoke and exhaled heavily.

Ma’s guess was probably dead-on. I did want more. I was curious. Despite having argued the opposite, I wanted a big family where everyone could be themselves.

For some dumbass reason, I’d been guilty of my own gentrification process in an attempt to make shit easier. To build bridges and bring us closer together.

Our wedding had been a prime example. My grandparents had come up from Puerto Rico. My family on Dad’s side had dusted off their funeral suits or rented clothes. Ma’s brother and sister, and their spouses and kids—all the same. We worked. We were a hotheaded, loud bunch from mixed cultures, but we worked. Because we were from similar neighborhoods and had shared the same upbringing. And then West’s family…? Mother of Christ. The church had been packed, with my side not-so-discreetly complaining that it wasn’t Catholic. And they’d expected a big party afterward. Of course they had. When my cousin Albie got married, all the women had cooked, the children had run around, the… It’d been wild. Colorful. Fun .

West and I had hosted our reception at their country club.

I’d been too blissed out to give a fuck about the food and lack of good music, and in retrospect, I should’ve gotten more involved.

To be fair, West hadn’t been very involved either. His mother and two of his sisters had planned it all.

I remembered watching Ma introduce her parents to West’s parents.

Talk about night and day.

My nana had made an assortment of cakes and pastries, and Lucille had been a fucking cunt about it. She’d gestured to the kitchen and been all, “Perhaps the caterers will know what to do with this.”

How the fuck had I stayed silent?

I could only blame so much on my emotional state. Like, I’d been over the fucking moon in love, with all my focus trained on West and how he’d insisted on keeping me close. Kissing my neck, whispering how he couldn’t wait to get me alone, and then when we’d shared our first dance and he’d whispered “my husband” into a slow kiss…

I finished my smoke and tossed it in my empty to-go cup.

Fuck my life, West was right.

I kept insisting I hadn’t changed; I’d only modified my behavior.

What fucking rotten bullshit was that?

I had changed, and I hated it.

I’d deceived myself, my family, and my husband.

In my quest to fit in everywhere, I’d become three different people. Maybe more. I didn’t even know, because shit had started small. Like, don’t bring up certain topics at dinner with West’s parents. Maybe don’t swear so much. And then…oh, dinner with my folks. Time to be loud and fun again. Then we had kids, and obviously, there were traits I didn’t wanna pass on to my son and daughter.

I scratched my forehead, finally seeing my exit up ahead.

At the end of the day, only West saw all of me, and I couldn’t imagine how I’d made his head spin.

I had no defense for that. I hadn’t seen my own actions from his perspective.

I wasn’t willing to shoulder all the guilt for the unraveling of our relationship, but I had no choice but to own up to a very large part of it. I mean, imagine attending a fancy brunch with your husband, and he’s giving off strong WASP vibes. He pretends to laugh at their dull-ass sense of humor, consisting of golf jokes and whatnot.

I hadn’t laughed, but I remembered plastering a grin on my face when West’s brother-in-law once joked about his tip sending the waitress’s kid to college. Like, who the fuck said that?

Pompous douchebags.

I also remembered West sighing and shaking his head at the “joke.”

Then he’d seen his husband acting amused…?

After a brunch like that, it wouldn’t be rare for us to continue to the next place. An outing with the kids, then dinner with my folks. My lies about trying to find work, when in reality, I was hiding bundles of cash because I was already working for the Sons.

Jesus Christ.

In the span of one day, he could see multiple sides of me—and when he confronted me about it, I got defensive.

“Clarity, you fucking cunt.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, and the traffic eased up a bit. I sped up and reached my exit, wondering how I should even act in front of West now.

I’d been gearing up to tell him off for talking to Ma about my brand-new cousin.

Instead, I drove closer and closer, feeling nothing but disgust aimed at myself.

How fucking poetic. In the hopes of having everything, I’d lost it all.

There was never going to be a Christmas where our families celebrated the holiday together. Our wedding was the one and only day everyone had showed up. Which was kind of poetic too, because it was the story of my life. Everyone came together at church. Always church.

I had more memories of the empty square next to our church than I did of our first apartment. Soup kitchens, coat drives, Sunday Mass, holidays, christenings, weddings, funerals—hell, Ma’s bible study and book club. All church-related. As a kid, I’d tagged along. As I’d grown older, I’d waited outside or hung out with a friend before Ma and I took the bus home together.

I was fucking tired.

Somehow, I had to find the balls to apologize to West for the pain I’d caused him—and sooner rather than later. I was a blurt-it-out kind of guy, so once I settled on something, I wanted to get shit in motion. Even if that included watching the love of my life move on.

As much as it broke me, I had to accept that he already had.

I’d brought it on myself.

Moving forward, though… Fuck, I had to be done donning all these masks.

A heavy weight sank down into the pit of my stomach, and a wave of grief washed over me. Seriously, I had to come to grips with this today? Just like that? I had to see shit clearly all of a sudden?

Living in denial had at least allowed me to hope against hope.

Living in denial had given me a line of defense.

Fuck, this hurt.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth and swallowed hard.

Good thing the barbecue at Finn’s place was tomorrow. I was gonna immerse myself in his family life as quickly as possible and make them my security blanket. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure I could watch West eventually introduce his new man to our kids. But with plenty of distraction and minimal time spent alone, hopefully the agony would fade a little.

Before I reached West’s street, I popped an Altoid and dug out my spare deodorant from the glovebox. It was definitely easier to apply when I was wearing a tee instead of a fucking button-down.

No more hiding. Aside from cigarette smoke. I didn’t need Ellie more curious.

I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

As soon as I stepped out, I could hear laughter from the other side of the house, and it was Trip.

I bet he didn’t wanna leave the pool.

Knowing West wouldn’t hear me knocking if he was out back, I rang the doorbell instead.

Even the fucking doorbell sounded snooty.

I’d grown up with a broken buzzer. Out here, you got a fucking symphony.

“Daddy’s here!” I heard Ellie squeal.

I smiled, and a breath gusted out of me. Now they were mine for a week. Thank fuck. Unlike West, my schedule during the day was flexible, so the kids were stuck with me. When West had them, he dropped them off at various summer activities and day camps—which was fun for them, of course. Even Trip, who’d attended an art class and workshops. All private, of course. Ellie was a social butterfly, so she requested the places her friends went to.

“I’m not telling you again, Noelle,” West said. Oh, the stern Daddy voice. I’d been on the receiving end of that in the bedroom.

“Fiiiine!” Ellie whined in return.

I waited a few more seconds, and then West opened the door, creating a draft. Fuck, he must’ve been in the pool too. It wasn’t often I got to see him in his swim trunks anymore.

“Sorry, we’re running a little behind,” he said stoically. “I’ll get them ready.”

“It’s fine,” I answered on autopilot. Then I cleared my throat and noticed he wasn’t making eye contact. “No rush.”

He furrowed his brow and let me in. “Do, uh…do you want coffee, or…?”

Oh.

That was new.

“Nah, I’m good.” I walked in and didn’t wanna get my signals crossed. Just because I’d said no rush didn’t mean I was expecting to be invited in. I knew my place in the hallway. Or foyer. Whatever. “I’ll wait here. Just—no need to rush them.”

I was saved from the potential awkwardness when Trip hurried in, wearing only his shorts and Hulk sandals, and he smiled widely at me.

“Hi, Dad! I’m just gonna go upstairs and change.”

“Hey, buddy. Go ahead and shower too,” I told him. “I thought we could go out for steaks right away.”

He lit up. “Yes! I’ll hurry.” He was off again, running up the stairs.

Ellie followed a beat later, sulking and dragging her feet. She had a pink towel wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hi, Daddy…” She came over to me. “You don’t look weird today. That’s nice.”

I snorted softly and hugged her, and I dipped down to kiss her damp hair. Mmm, chlorine. “Thanks, baby girl. You can shower after your brother. We’re not stopping by at home before we go out for dinner.”

“Okay. But just so you know,” she said, peering up at me, “it would be nice to have dinner in the pool sometime.”

I chuckled. “In the pool or by the pool?”

“I said what I said,” she huffed.

I felt my forehead crease, and I watched her stomp off and up the stairs.

Someone was in a mood.

“I’ll be up to help you when your brother’s finished, princess,” West said.

“Uh-huh.” That was the last we heard from her before she slammed the door shut to her room.

“Can you imagine when she becomes a teenager?” I asked.

“I’d rather not.” West eyed me briefly. “You know as well as I do that this is going to take a moment. At least come inside.” He gestured toward the kitchen.

That wasn’t wise. Being who I was, with the blurting shit out, I’d prefer to stay here and summon up the courage for another week before I bombarded him with apologies.

“Actually, I’ll go wait in my car.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m prepared with deodorant and Altoids so they can’t smell my smoking.” And the kids would be busy for a while.

West hitched his eyebrows. “You’re smoking again?”

Check me out, being all honest and shit.

“Not every day,” I replied. I opened the door and glanced back at him. “I guess it’s one of the many things I’ve been hiding from you. I’ll be back in fifteen.” I walked out, and before the door closed, I heard him.

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm!”

“It wasn’t!” I hollered back.

For the record, he used to love my sarcasm.

I unlocked my car when I was halfway there, and—fuck, he wasn’t letting this go. I heard him step out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

I frowned at him over my shoulder, then turned to walk backward. “What is what supposed to mean?”

Don’t blurt shit out, man. This is not the time!

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and then he scrubbed it down his face. “Never mind. I’m not getting into this with you. I just don’t think we need to make shit worse by being sarcastic.”

What the fuck?

“I told you—I wasn’t being sarcastic.” I reached the car and opened the passenger’s side, where I grabbed my smokes and my lighter.

I really wished he didn’t age like a fine motherfucking wine. He was gonna give his best years to someone else, and I hated it. He’d always been hotter than the sun, but the closer he got to fifty cranked things up even more. I mean, he had five years to go before he got there, but he was already too hot to look at. I’d always been drawn to men who were solid and bordering on stocky. Just like, real solid frames, broad chests, chest hair, shoulders on the wider side, thighs and legs that didn’t break like twigs, and balancing on that razor-thin line where muscles were still visible but so were the few extra pounds because they loved food. Those were my men.

West was the very definition.

I took a drag from my smoke, and West frowned and walked closer.

He glanced at the stone path, which made me smirk a little, because sometimes I could still read his mind. It wasn’t natural for him to walk out here barefoot.

“What’re you saying, then?” he asked.

I was gonna blurt it out, wasn’t I?

Fuck my life.

I blew smoke out of my nose and cursed under my breath, because now I had to think. My default defensive mode involved shrugging and being dismissive, and if I acted that way now, my apology would be worth fuck-all.

He deserved better than that.

“My mom came over today,” I said. “Apparently, you’ve been running your mouth to her about my cousin.”

Excellent start. Really, ten points.

He stiffened as if on cue, and he folded his arms over his chest. “I was curious. Sue me. It won’t happen again.”

I already knew that last part. He’d care less and less until his whole world was filled with memories of his new partner.

Just like that, I needed ice cream and a good cry.

My throat felt thick and everything.

Damn him.

“I was pissy at first,” I admitted. “But then I had an epiphany on the way over here, which I didn’t fuckin’ ask for.” I was still irritated, to be honest. I smoked my cigarette and shook my head. “Anyway. I, uh…I think, in the end, you were right about pretty much everything. I did change. I had good intentions, but I definitely fucked up.”

It was tragic how quickly he went from on edge to confused. As if the concept of me saying I was sorry was bizarre to him.

That was on me.

I hadn’t always been so defensive. I guessed…when all the lies piled up, I’d started walking around with my guard up.

“I have one memory from when I was, like, three,” I said. “Ma introduced me to Dad. And it stuck. Like, I always knew he’d entered our lives later. He wasn’t my biological father, but he became my dad.” I swallowed and flicked away some ashes. West’s confused expression leveled up. “Ma never wanted to talk about what’d happened before Dad came in, and when she finally told me the kid-rated version of the truth when I was older, she said it was our secret. I mean, Dad knew. She told him too. But I was to keep this to myself. Which…” I blew out a breath, wanting to word myself correctly. In short, I wanted to say a lot in few words. He had better things to do with his Friday. “In a way, it was easy, because I didn’t know who my biological father was yet. I just knew that Dad was now Dad, and whoever Ma had been with before was out of our lives.”

“I don’t understand.” West took a step closer, his worry wrinkles appearing across his forehead. “Phil is your stepdad?”

I made a face. No, he was my dad. “Technically.” I cleared my throat. “When I was ten or eleven, I found out who it was. Who my biological dad was—and it was only because I overheard my folks talking. Cuz—well, one thing I should mention is that Ma always wanted me to avoid certain people. We went to the same church as most of the higher-ups in the Sons of Munster, and this was back when they had a tighter grip on our society.”

Mafia then couldn’t be compared to mafia today. Racketeering and extortion had been replaced by hacking big corporate and buying politicians. Not to say the old-school shit didn’t linger in some places, but it just wasn’t the same—and Finn wanted the big money. Compared to tax evasion, buying off politicians, and running drug routes, much of that older shit resulted in pocket change.

Granted, drugs had been a moneymaker for decades.

I digress.

“Long story short, my biological father was a Son,” I said. “Or is a Son. I don’t know. I’m not planning on getting to know him.”

The intrigue was evident in West’s eyes, and he walked even closer until he was right in front of me. Then he held out two fingers, and I cocked a brow. Fucking word?

I handed him the smoke.

“So who is it?” he asked.

“John Murray.”

Shock flitted across his expression, and he took a quick pull from the smoke. Oh . Um, that wasn’t his first cigarette since we’d quit four years ago.

“You smoke ,” I said accusingly. I couldn’t help it. He’d been all over that shit, wanting us to quit together.

“So do you. Move on. Your biological father is the former head of the Sons of Munster. Do you hear how fucking crazy that is? I’ve seen him on the news.”

Of course. They weren’t as well-known as the Italian-American mafia from back in the day, but sure, people knew of them. Thankfully, the younger generation was aiming for a lower profile. Some believed the mafia was dead.

They were wrong.

“Yeah, well.” I cleared my throat again, and I accepted the smoke back. “Like I said, I have a dad, and I have no interest in getting to know John. Which I’m sure is mutual. He paid for my mom to move to another hood when I was born. She just refused to go to another church.” I shrugged a little. “My point is, I did my best to block all that out. I have two parents, end of story. And when I moved to LA and met you, I didn’t think twice when I told you about my folks. Later on, like, sure, I assumed it would come up at some point that I was technically adopted by my dad, but…”

“Wait a second.” West suddenly looked like he was trying to solve a math problem, and he frowned, turned skeptical, and then disbelief took over. “If John Murray is your father—that cousin of yours… Jesus Christ, Alfie, that was Finnegan O’Shea on your fucking couch?”

I winced.

We have a winner.

“Can we get back to the fact that I didn’t tell you about my roots?” I asked.

Evidently not. West started pacing the driveway and acting like…like…like I’d had a mobster on my couch. “Finnegan O’Shea is your cousin,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “I can’t believe it. You’re family to mobsters. Your cousin is the actual boss of the Sons of Munster.”

I sighed and went to put the smoke out in my to-go cup. “Alleged.”

West snorted. “Right. Good one.” All of a sudden, he pivoted and stared at me with wide eyes. “You work for him, Alfie. The security company—you mentioned that it technically belonged to him but that he was rarely there. You explained how these people need to run legit businesses.”

“Well, they do.” I knitted my brows together.

“I know they do, but you work for him!” He threw out his arms, frustration and accusation bursting out. “I dare you to deny it. Your house—that fucking SUV of yours—don’t tell me you bought those with the paycheck of a security consultant.” He came over to me, one part concerned, one part angry. It was a strange combination. “Either they have something on you, or you joined voluntarily. Which is it? Are they blackmailing you? I’ll call the police—better yet, I’ll call my father. He still has?—”

“Hey, easy. Christ—calm down.” I needed to do the same. I took a deep breath, and my head was fucked. We were all over the place now. He was realizing shit, I wanted to come clean about the lies of my heritage, we had the kids upstairs getting ready, and I was forgetting all the bullshit I’d delivered over the years.

So maybe I had lied more than once or twice.

Fuck.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, and in that moment, I supposed it was a good thing we were divorced. ’Cause he couldn’t divorce me twice.

Man, I was a douchebag. The lowest of the low.

“You chose this,” West stated quietly.

I looked up at him and let my silence speak. I wasn’t going to confirm anything, and these days, I didn’t have to.

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. “So what, my ex-husband is a mobster? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m not saying anything. I’m trying to apologize for being a shitty husband,” I replied. “I just wanted to give you closure in case you needed that. And…in any event, I thought you deserved to know that I’m aware I screwed this up. I changed, and I lied to you. You have every right to hate me.”

His dark amusement faded. “How long have you been involved? Have you killed anyone?—”

“What the fuck! What the fuck, West! What do you think the mafia does these days?” I couldn’t believe it! This wasn’t a goddamn Hollywood movie. We didn’t go around shooting people left and right. It was a last resort, one I’d never fucking be part of. Kellan said it best: Why rob the little guy when the government’s already done that? The big money was in corporate America and the government itself. “Do you think so little of me that you legit ask if I’m a murderer?”

West’s glare switched on mad quick. “I don’t know what to think about you, Alfie. As I’ve told you before—which has never been truer—I don’t know who the fuck you are.”

I nodded, swallowed, and took a step back. He had me there.

“I have no defense,” I admitted. “My past turned into an involuntary lie that I won’t take all the blame for, but I definitely lied about my job. I started working with Kellan the moment we moved back here, and then I decided to tell him the truth about my biological father last week. Hence why Finn showed up at my house.”

He flinched back, confused. “Why wouldn’t you take the blame for?—”

“Ask your old man,” I said abruptly. “Ask him what he told me the first time you introduced us.”

He grew impatient. “I’m asking you . What the hell did he tell you? And why should I trust you?”

I nodded and pointed at him as the hurt slashed through me. “That’s why you should ask him. Because you don’t trust me.”

I had this coming, I repeated internally. He had every right to be furious, to feel betrayed, and to dismiss whatever I said.

It just hurt like a motherfucker.

Our entire relationship suddenly felt so tainted and cheap, and that killed me the most. It was hard to explain. To me, shit was still real. I loved him so fucking much, and I missed him every goddamn day. And now he was gonna believe everything we’d shared had been a lie.

“I’m sorry,” I said, clearing my throat once more. The emotions needed to back the fuck off. I couldn’t deal. “I understand if you never believe another word I say. For me—” I put a hand on my chest “—I made a few dumbass decisions based on…whatever. I wanted to fit in, I wanted to contribute. I took the job—I swear I’ve never hurt anyone, nor will I ever. I lied to you about that. No matter what, you and the kids came first. Our marriage, their safety—all of it.”

He shook his head, as if breaking a trance, and took a couple steps back. “This is too much to process. Can I even trust you with the kids, Alfie?”

Whoa.

My stomach dropped, all the blood drained from my face, and I legit felt dizzy.

Can I even trust you with the kids?

A breath gusted out of me, and I rubbed a hand over my mouth and jaw.

Can I even trust you with the kids?

I swallowed dryly and looked at him, and it was as if everything else disappeared into darkness. It was the weirdest feeling; I was as calm as I was enraged. Steady heartbeat, fucking dead inside, but…oh boy, if he ever …

“You called me unhinged in a text the other week,” I said quietly. “If you ever threaten or try to take the kids away from me…? I’ll show you unhinged, West. Take my word on that.”

I wasn’t fucking around. Three people could bring me to my knees. Three people could make or break me. Losing two of them…? Losing my kids? I’d end the third.

West didn’t back down. He stared at me, seething, but I was done. I left his ass in the driveway and headed back to the house. Ellie and Trip better be ready soon, ’cause we were out of here.