Jim focuses on me with his good eye and smirks. He raises one arm and points in my direction. The smile that takes over his face is infectious. He crooks a finger my way, and I burst into the most ridiculous smile. It feels like an out of body experience or something. My entire body is buzzing, and there's this heavy thudding in my chest. My face is flushed, and my palms are damp. Everything about this moment feels right and amazing and something that I don't hardly deserve.
I rush to Jim and throw myself into his arms only to realize how injured he is. I have to pull Jim upright before he topples over.
"Careful, Momma," Jim purrs into my ear. His voice is silky smooth and totally devoid of the crazed undertones it had earlier. This is all Jim. This is the guy who loans me a fucking minivan so I can get my son to and from school--even if I've somehow ended up taking his son, too--and he pays me well above what I should earn just so I can feed my boy and give him normal. This man looks at me in a way that makes me feel like maybe I'm worth something after all.
"Kiss me for good luck," he says, leaning in. Jim takes a deep breath and tries to suppress a groan.
"You're in pain." I twist just enough to eye him warily. I don't want to hurt him any more than he's already hurting, but damn if the prospect of kissing him doesn't have my stomach doing flips.
"Been in pain since I met you, Momma. Every day I'm working a plan to make you mine."
A million things run through my mind at once. He's insane. He's saying the exact right things. He's also drunk, that much is evident from the scent of whiskey and beer on his breath. But he's still Jim. I'd convince myself it was the alcohol talking if he were pulling some cheesy one-liners on me, but he's not. Maybe I'm stupid, but this feels genuine. So I ignore every ridiculous thought that's running through my head and gently press my lips to his, careful not to hurt him any more than he already is. Jim's kiss is gentle but firm. And holy fuck, my body is awake and alight.
In an instant, I feel like I've found my way home and been submerged under water at the same time. I don't think I've been lonely, but kissing Jim makes me feel like I've been missing a big part of me that I didn't even realize wasn't there. My heart thuds and my stomach acts up again, but this is right. We're right. And even if I can't have him right now, and he's still an asshole and I'm still a disaster, I want us.
I just hope I'm not falling down the rabbit hole never to return.
CHAPTER 9
Jim
Brooklyn, New York
April 2016
Mancuso's downfall
"I'm gonna go clean up the rooms," I say to Layla, Grady's wife. She's had her ass perched at the bar for over an hour now and hasn't said much of anything after I pissed her off. She needed to hear what I had to say, so she can just get over her shit. Babies deserve a mother who puts them first, and fuck her for not putting all that shit aside for her baby.
Speaking of people getting over their shit . . .
It's been over a month since Jim was patched in as VP. He's always been an asshole, but lately it's like he's competing in the asshole Olympics. The first couple of weeks, he'd probably have won bronze. But after yesterday? That motherfucker is a damn gold medalist. He makes my head spin with his mood swings. One minute he's smiling and flirting with me and the next he's shutting down and acting cold as ice. I can't make sense of it, and I'm done trying to. We spent months volleying between snapping at one another and flirting. Then we kissed, and it was romantic and all this stuff that I never thought I'd get. But because my life's a bitch, I never really got it. We kissed, and Jim finished his fight with Grady--he won--and then he got absolutely shit-faced with the boys. And I had to leave to take care of our kids. I don't know what I expected, but I expected a hell of a lot more than I got. That night just confirmed what I already knew but stupidly let myself forget. Anything I might be feeling for Jim is just that--a feeling--and it can't be anything more.
"Do what you want," Layla says with a coolness that's only there to mask her anger. Biting my tongue, I ignore her and walk away. Dumb bitch is pregnant but won't put the drugs away long enough to make sure her kid is born with half a brain. To say I hate her might be an understatement.