Cuff Me

“What’s going on,” Vin finished. “I know the question, I just don’t know the answer.”

He braced himself for them to start badgering him, but to his surprise, the men of his family looked sympathetic. As though they knew what he was going through.

And perhaps they did. Vincent didn’t know the details of his parents’ early courtship, but his mother was strong willed, and his father was, well… difficult.

As for his brothers, Vin had recently seen firsthand how uphill their battle had been. Luc, because of his dark secrets and the not-so-minor fact that Ava had once been out to expose them. Anth, because of some ridiculously misplaced notion that his career ambitions precluded him from being in a relationship.

Vincent appreciated the sense of camaraderie. He did. But it wasn’t the same. For both Luc and Anth, there’d been very specific demons that needed slaying. Luc and Anth had been broken, yes, but the problems had been precise. Problems, which, with the right woman and the right circumstance, could be solved.

But with Vin—Vin didn’t have any demons to be played. Didn’t have toxic secrets that only needed to be coaxed to the surface. Like them, he was broken, yes, but not because anyone or anything had broken him.

He’d always just been… apart, somehow.

There was a moment of silence as their food came, and paper napkins were placed in laps, and Anthony muttered irritably about the injustices of pickles, and Vincent started to think he might get off easy.

And then Luc dropped his spoon back into his bowl of chili and turned to face Vincent. “I know what you’re thinking, and your case isn’t different. You’re not special.”

Vincent’s cheeseburger turned dry in his mouth, and he had to wash it down with Coke.

“How did you—”

“Know what you were thinking?” Anth finished for him. “Because we’ve been there. We all think that our special brand of emotional hang-ups is special.”

“Don’t know how I raised three idiots,” their father said, jabbing a fry around the table at this sons.

“Oh good, a pep talk,” Anth muttered.

“I’m serious,” Vin’s dad said. “You’re exceptional cops, but you’re a bunch of goobers when it comes to personal lives.”

Luc took a bite of chili. “And I suppose you got it right with Mom the first time? No bouts of stubbornness or saying the wrong thing?”

Tony’s eyes narrowed on Luc. “What did your mother tell you?”

Luc shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Good,” their father muttered.

“But Nonna said you were an absolute moron,” Anthony chimed in quietly.

Tony dropped his Reuben. “Now see here, what my mother never understood was that I had to do things my own way, on my own timetable—”

Vincent set his glass down hard enough to rattle the table. “Exactly,” he said. “Which is why I’ll ask that my family let me and Jill do things our way, at our speed.”

The three of them stared at Vincent for a moment before exchanging a glance.

“Nah,” Luc said finally, reaching over and stealing a fry. “That would have flown, say, five years ago.”

“Bambino’s right,” his father said gruffly. “That woman is the best thing that ever happened to you. It’s time that you stop *footing around and—”

“Make an honest woman of her,” Anth said in a rather impressive imitation of their father.

Tony jerked an elbow at Anth, unperturbed by the subtle mockery. “Yeah. That.”

“I’m trying,” Vincent said quietly. “You think I’m not fucking trying? I bought her flowers. I set out candles. I cooked.”

“Damn,” Luc said, looking impressed. “And she’s still pissed at you?”

Vin pushed his plate away, mostly untouched. “She didn’t know.”

“What do you mean she didn’t know?”

“She just… she came over wanting to go out, muttered something about not wanting Chinese food—”

“You cooked Chinese food?” Luc interrupted.

“No! Steaks. But she didn’t know that, and—”

“What about the flowers?” Anth asked, puzzled. “She didn’t put the pieces together?”

“Well, I don’t know that she even saw the flowers.”

“Okay, this is bullshit,” his father said with a shake of his head. “Total bullshit.”

Vin lifted his eyebrows at his dad’s input. “Perhaps. But I didn’t go about it the right way, so maybe she’s right to be pissed. But then she got all… girly.”

“Oh, dear God. You didn’t tell her that, did you?”

Vincent ran a hand over his face, feeling tired. “No, but she started rambling about how I have caution tape around my heart, and would I ever love her, and how she wants marriage.”

Luc whistled. “Our Jill doesn’t pull her punches.”

“But she’s got a point,” Tony said. “It’s been what, five, six years?”

“It’s been three weeks!” Vincent said, slamming his palm on the table.