Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Any Means Necessary

I walked up Broadway toward Fortnum’s, Toni at my side, and I didn’t have sidewalk pavement under my feet.

I was walking on a cloud.

Suffice it to say, our first family dinner was perfect. So much so, I knew with no doubts I’d remember every second of it for the rest of my life.

Sure, my boys teased me mercilessly, but I didn’t care.

I gotto watch them together.

How easy they were in each other’s company. How Liam looked at his dad with pride and respect and love all over his face. How Darius seemed so in his element with his woman and his son in his space. It was natural, relaxed, we laughed a lot, conversation flowed. It wasn’t like our first family meal out ever; it was like we’d been doing it for years.

When we got home, I finally got a full tour of the house.

A tour that cemented the fact I was moving.

The main level had the fabulous kitchen and living room, and it also had a handsome study, a family room (there was no TV in the living room, but there was a huge comfortable sectional, and an equally huge flat screen TV, replete with games console, in the family room), a dining room and full bath, which would come in handy if we had a house full of people visiting (and with the amount of extended family Darius and I had, this could happen), and someone had to bunk in the family room.

The upstairs had Darius’s room with big walk-in closet, his extraordinary bathroom that had a mix of teal floor tiles with an interesting design, white subway tile above the basin and in the shower, slate gray walls and a clean-lined, modern, wood vanity under a double basin with brass fixtures. There was also an open shower and a statement bath.

There were three other bedrooms up there, one larger, with a smaller walk-in and en suite bathroom, two smaller that shared a Jack and Jill bath.

None of those had any furniture.

So I guessed Darius hadn’t had any company.

But I knew that would change.

The lower level wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.

In other words, it didn’t look like a bachelor pad.

If there had been a kitchen down there, there was no sign of it now. Liam’s space had another huge sectional with a TV mounted on the wall and a games console and DVD player with a long shelving unit filled with DVDs underneath it. This sectional was less stylish than the one upstairs (but still stylish), built for comfort and hours of lounging with a massive removable ottoman that fit snug in the U of the couch, so it resembled a bed.

His bedroom area was all grays and blacks, and there was no fourteen-year-old boy there.

It was a man’s room.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t any personality. But it was in the art and the lighting (including a cool blue glow that crept from under the bed).

It was perfect for him.

He had a full bath that was all chrome and dark gray block tiles and an interesting bowl sink sitting on a rich wood bureau.

This only took half the downstairs.

The other half was divided between four rooms, two being storage that were mostly empty, except some crates at the back of one, in which, among other things, I saw Darius’s high school yearbooks.

The other one was a big room that had a treadmill, an elliptical machine and weight equipment.

And the last was the wine cellar, which was a true wine cellar with walls of wine shelves, innumerable dusty bottles of wine, two large, tall, restaurant-quality wine coolers, and even a grouping in the center of four leather armchairs with attractive tables in between. There was another small fridge that looked like it had fruits and cheeses in it, set into a bar cart with a full bar, and above it, a set of display shelves with a selection of gorgeous glasses.

It wasn’t just a place to store wine. It was a place to hang out and appreciate wine.

I loved it.

The whole house.

It was very masculine.

But I wouldn’t change a thing.

After I’d oohed and aahed and smiled and giggled and put my official stamp of approval on the place, Darius asked after Liam’s homework, and our son set off to his room.

I set off to do whatever unpacking I could do, which was emptying my Nordstrom bags (and putting my stuff around the unused basin next to Darius’s made me decidedly giddy). Liam had taken the suitcases into the walk-in, and I located the empty drawers and put away anything that could go in them and on shelves.

I discovered Darius’s clothes were hanging on wire hangers, and I couldn’t even, so I didn’t, and I decided to deal with that too when Darius grabbed some the next day.

Though, he’d been wrong. His stuff didn’t take up a quarter of the space, it maybe took up a sixth. It was clear it was casual gear he wore to work, but my man needed more clothes.

It looked like no one loved him.

And that wouldn’t do.

After that, Darius and I finished off the bottle of wine he’d opened earlier while sitting cuddled together on his creamy-beige couch in the living room, with me asking questions I’d been dying to ask, and getting answers I loved to hear.

Yes, he liked his work at Nightingale Investigations.

No, it didn’t feel like Lee was his boss. Lee didn’t manage his men that way, or he wouldn’t have the men he had. They were a team, Lee was just their leader.

No, it wasn’t as dangerous as I’d feared it would be. It was just that the Rock Chicks were magnets for disaster. All their shit was outlying (I wasn’t sure he told the whole truth about this, but since my cloud of happy goodness was forming around me, I was letting that be).

Yes, he bought and paid for all of this during his drug dealing days. And yes, he had money safe and tucked away so Liam and I were set for life. Also yes, Lee paid well for the work he did. But no, the ties to that life were completely severed. It hadn’t been easy, but he and his Aunt Shirleen were out and there was no going back.

Shirleen, by the way, was Lee’s receptionist.

So yeah, those men always took care of their family.

And it wasn’t lost on me when we got to the “set for life” part that this was likely, if possibly unconsciously, why Darius stayed in the game as long as he did.

His father could have no clue he’d be murdered, but when he was, his wife and children were nowhere near set for life.

But even though nothing was going to happen to my man (God willing), Liam and I were.

Eventually, the bottle was empty, and I was tired, so we called down our goodnights to Liam, went upstairs, made love, and I passed out.

I woke up to breakfast at the island with my boys. It was an unusual gray, blustery day for Denver, but it shined bright for me in that kitchen.

I went to work, and after work, I went to my place with my big and medium suitcases and filled them again.

Yes, I was moving fast.

No, I didn’t care.

The writing was on the wall. I’d waited years for this.

And anyway, I needed more shoes.

I got handed guff from Darius when I rolled one of the suitcases up to the back door, and he sent Liam out for the other one.

He took the one I rolled up to the closet, where I followed him, in which there were three bags filled with hangers.

I changed into some jeans and a warm sweater that hung off one shoulder and got down to work unpacking, but also taking Darius’s clothes off the wire hangers and switching them out with the new.

I ran out of hangers, counted how many more I needed and added a few in my mental calculations for growth purposes, deciding to sandwich a trip to the Container Store (and the mall, Darius needed a new shirt for the Rock Chick party, and new jeans, and boots) between the meet at Fortnum’s and the party.

I then went downstairs to the kitchen to find Darius cooking.

“I was gonna cook,” I announced.

“You can cook Monday,” he replied.

It was Friday. The party was tomorrow.

So…

“Monday?” I asked.

“We’re having dinner at Mom’s Sunday.”

“Oh boy,” I said.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

I wanted to believe that, and I kinda did.

We weren’t months deep in this situation, far from it, but so far, no hiccups.

So far, it was nothing but clouds of happy goodness.

We’d been through years of strife and strain, and everyone knew it.

Maybe now, I could believe.

Maybe now—enduring bouts of rocky times, the kind that life always eventually threw at you—we could be normal.

We could be free.

I went to the wine Darius had opened and poured myself a glass as he asked me, “You good with that?”

I nodded.

“Danni and Gabs are gonna be there,” he shared.

I’d liked his sisters. They were sweet. We’d been close. In fact, Gabby was in my grade and had been my friend before I’d started going out with Darius.

I was looking forward to seeing them again.

I took my wine to a stool, reminding him, “They always liked me.”

“Sorry, babe,” he said low, “but so you don’t walk in blind, you gotta know, they weren’t huge fans of you being angry at me and laying it out when I was in a hospital bed.”

Oops.

I caught his gaze over my wineglass while taking a sip.

When I was done with that, I said, “They’re going to have to get over it.”

His lips curved. “Yeah, they are.”

Liam sauntered in. “What’s for dinner?”

“What’s for dinner is you getting on the corn, son,” Darius ordered. “The cast iron skillet. Melt the butter. Medium heat. Pour in the whole bag of frozen corn when it’s melted. Salt and lots of pepper. And watch that shit. I don’t want it burning. And let’s get a move on. You gotta get to the field.”

Liam had a game that night, and Darius was right. We were cutting it close.

“Gotcha,” Liam said, heading for a drawer and pulling out a Le Creuset skillet that had a matte blue around the outside.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Drink wine,” Darius answered.

It hit me then, like a bullet.

All this spoiling. No lugging suitcases and shopping bags or running out into the cold to get the purse and keys I left in my car my own self.

This wasn’t Darius making up for lost time, going the extra mile to show he was a protector and provider.

This was Mister Morris.

Miss Dorothea was A Mom, in caps, through and through. She cooked. She kept her house immaculate. She checked homework. She did school runs.

But she did not carry the groceries from the car.

She didn’t even waste a trip and bring in the first load.

She came in with her purse, and Mister Morris or Darius went to get the groceries, not a word spoken, it just happened.

And Danni nor Gabby did that kind of thing.

Just Mister Morris or Darius.

Back then, I thought it was sweet.

Now, I got it.

I got all of it.

Including the drug dealing.

Mister Morris was a protector and a provider.

He taught his son that.

And the way he did, it was by any means necessary.

I didn’t realize I was staring at my man until he asked, “What?”

I jerked myself out of it and took in his beloved face.

There was only one thing I could say.

So I said it.

“I love you.”

His expression grew soft. I noted out of the corner of my eye our son ducked his head.

But I was wildly elated when, for the first time since forever, our child was right there when Darius said it back.

“Love you too, baby.”

Happy…

Cloud…

Of goodness.

Darius got his son fed, and his woman, and Liam took off to the field. Darius and I followed later, and there was only a bit of uncomfortableness when Miss Dorothea joined Darius, my mom and dad, Lena, Toni, Tony, Talia and me (Kenneth didn’t do sports).

But she smiled brightly at us and kissed my cheek.

So I guessed it was water under the bridge, and I was glad for it.

And one could say I was fucking ecstatic that Liam’s cheer block was expanding.

Second best to our night at Carmine’s? (Okay, third best, after our first breakfast together.)

Sitting beside Darius, watching our boy play ball.

I’d never forget that either.

Not a second of it.

By the way, ourteam won, and Liam scored a touchdown.

So, yes.

Walking toward Fortnum’s after breakfast number three with my kid and my man, this meal longer, more laid-back, with all of us cooking together and eating together and lingering over coffee and giving each other stick and cleaning up together, I was walking on air.

We turned the corner to the door to Fortnum’s that was angled there, and I suddenly couldn’t wait to walk into my past that was also my future.

I shot Toni a bright smile that had her eyebrows reaching for her hairline before I pushed in, and the familiar sound of the bell over the door rang.

But once I got inside, I stopped dead.

Toni stopped dead beside me.

And we stared.

She was the first to break the silence.

And she did this by drawling, “Welllllll…shit.”