"That's the fairy tale, right? Nobody goes into anything wanting it to end, but shit happens. Jim thinks he can handle my baggage now, but it will get too much for him."
"The Mancuso thing?" She's smiling all coy and knowing, as if she didn't just drop a huge bomb on me. For the first time in months, she looks healthy. A confusing mix of gratitude and fear overtakes me. It's overwhelming.
"Didn't know you knew about that."
"They might not get along that well, but Jim is his father's son. His loyalty to Forsaken is unwavering."
"He told them," I whisper. There's a brief panic that spikes before it settles. I just sit there, soaking it in. The club knows. Jim fucking told his brothers about my history. It's no small detail for anyone to drop on the club, much less the VP.
"I don't know what to say."
"You want my opinion?"
"Not really," I admit.
Sylvia shakes her head in response, her smile growing with every passing moment. Her lips part and a laugh escapes. She's a good woman, and I think I forget how much I rely on her to keep me sane. I haven't had a mother in years, much less a good mother. I can't imagine living without her now that I have her.
"I think you need to trust in a man who puts his cut on the line for you."
"But I don't want him to put his cut on the line for me. That's not right."
"Sweetheart, it's the most right thing he's ever done," she says.
I give her a resigned smile and push away from the bar. Sylvia and I can talk more later, if we must. For now, there's something I need to do. And he's standing across the room with a beer in his hand and a large, totally chill smile on his face.
And I love him.
Holy hell, do I love him.
I don't even care if this turns around to bite me in the ass later. Right now, I just need him. I need to touch him and be held by him. The sun has already set, and the boys are passed out in the chapel, surrounded by a pile of empty Pixy Stix wrappers. I don't need to play mommy for the time being. Right now, I'm just Ruby. I'm a woman who's in love with a man and desperately needs to be with him.
Jim's focus is on a conversation he's having with Grady. They're talking business, so I don't interrupt. Instead, I just slide up beside my man and cozy into his side when he wraps an arm around my shoulders. The guys don't talk business out in the open if they want to keep it from us, but it's still not our place to chime in, so I don't. The conversation lasts a few more minutes, with Grady bringing up what I think are some solid points about switching up transport routes. Jim agrees on principle but is hesitant for the club to take any action now. It's a whole lot of mumbo jumbo that I try not to understand. The less I know about the details of their business, the happier I am. When Layla starts calling for Grady, the guys wrap it up and end with Jim agreeing to bring up Grady's ideas to Rage.
"What do you think?"
"He's a good guy," I say, figuring that's what Jim means. It's an odd question, but my head is buzzing with anticipation, and I'm not thinking clearly.
"Fuck that prick," Jim says with a grumble as he pulls me closer. "I meant about his ideas."
"I'm sure you'll take them to Rage and the two of you will weigh your options."
Diplomacy has never been my strong suit, but the longer I'm around Sylvia the better I'm getting. Jim asks what I think of the club's potential for changing up their transport options, and I know damn well that he's not asking me to give him my opinion. Those kinds of questions are for old ladies and not possible girlfriends, buddies, whatever the hell we are.
Jim gives me a hard look I don't expect. It's almost a warning, but for what I don't know. Bringing the beer bottle to his lips, he tilts his head back and takes a long pull, finishing it off, then leaves the bottle on a nearby table. Without another word, Jim removes his arm from around my shoulders, and before I can object to the loss of contact, he grabs my hand in his and pulls me to him.
"I asked for your opinion." His voice is stern but not angry.
"And I don't want to give it," I say. His eyes narrow incrementally in response, but I don't let it deter me. He might think he wants my opinion on club business, but I'm certain he'd much rather wait in favor of what I have in mind.
Stepping up on my tiptoes, I pull Jim closer to me and breathe him in. He smells of soap and cigarettes, a perfect combination. My lips press against his stubbled chin, and I soak in the lingering taste of chocolate and strawberries from Ian's cake. I didn't realize until today exactly how much Jim loves his sweets. It's the little things like this that remind me of who he is. Flawed, yes, but he's also a good man. A good man who tries his best even when his best isn't quite good enough. A man who throws a birthday party for a little boy he doesn't have to care for but does anyway. This is the man I've fallen in love with.