“Mikey—” she starts, but I silence her, placing my finger to her lips.
“Not done saying my peace, Princess,” I say, calmly. “I know life without you, I know the man I am without you by my side and that guy doesn’t hold a candle to the man you make me. I stayed in New York for you, hoping you’d give me a shot to be the guy you spend the rest of your life with. You…you’re my why, always and forever baby—” My words are cut off by her mouth as it crashes over mine. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pulls me closer to her, sliding her tongue between my lips.
I gave in as I always did because giving in meant I won too.
Winning is being her guy.
Winning is having her in my life.
Winning is finding the one person I’m meant to travel through this crazy thing called life with.
Winning is Nikki becoming my wife.
Winning is us.
And if it’s just us in the end, well, that’s winning too.
Breaking the kiss, I watch as her eyelids flutter open and look into those brown eyes I’m going to stare into for the rest of my life. Those eyes look back at me.
“Ask me again what I want,” I demand huskily.
“What do you want, Mikey?”
“If you decide you want to have a baby then we’ll do whatever we have to do to get you pregnant,” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively, teasing her with the possibilities. “If you decide you want to get a dog instead, I’m cool with Beethoven. You want twelve cats, a parrot and goldfish, I’ll turn this house into a zoo. If you want all that and then decide you want the kid, then we’ll move the zoo into the yard and baby proof the house. Whatever you want, I’m game, as long as I get to be your guy. That’s all I want.”
“Twelve cats?” She queries with a smile.
“I’d get you a goddamn lion if it made you smile.”
“You love me,” she declares.
“More than anything,” I agree.
“I love you too, Mikey,” she whispers, leaning her forehead against mine. “And every day I thank your mom for sending you to me too.”
Cradling her in my arms, I turn her around. Lifting her, she wraps her arms around my neck as I stand and carry her toward the house. I press my lips gently to hers.
Winning.
Thanks Mom.
Chapter Twenty-Three
One of the shittiest jobs that came with the title of Victor’s enforcer was sitting on a mark. Sitting in a car, sometimes with a pair of binoculars, waiting for someone to make a move was boring as fuck. Most times, when the order came down the pipe I cursed Vic to the high heavens. I wanted a piece of the action and following a schmuck around the streets of Brooklyn wasn’t my idea of action.
I’d follow whatever asshole played Victor dirty like a shadow, learn his routine—down to the time he took his final shit of the day. In the early days I’d report my findings to Vic and he’d dismiss me of my duty, sending in the big guns to take care of whatever beef he had. As the years went on, Victor loosened his hold on the leash he had on me and after I gave him my intel he would send me back to take out the garbage.
It’s been a long fucking time since I sat in my car with a lukewarm cup of coffee, staring at a dark building waiting for signs of life. The last time I was in this position was when Vic gave me the order to check up on Maryann Valente and Mike. The night I followed him after he got the call she was in the hospital and we found out she had passed.
I thought my days of doing this shit were done but I’m the asshole who took it upon myself to sit here. There was no order, no mobster demanding I sit here with my thumb up my ass. No, this shit was all my fucking idea.
The people in my life are hurtin’ and I don’t know how to make it better for them. There is no one to blame, no kneecaps to break, no fucking cocksucker to whack. In the Pastore crime family we’re all about an eye for eye. The need to place blame heavy in our black hearts.
I can’t take Vic’s cancer away, can’t add more time to his existence and I can’t break the son of a bitch out of jail so his final days are with the people who love him, the same people I love.
But sitting around and waiting for him to die isn’t an option either. I can’t sit back and watch my wife cry trying to prepare herself for her final visit with her father. I woke up this morning and found her sitting at the kitchen table feeding the kids and writing a list of things she wants to say to her dad. She’s worried she’ll forget something and knows there is no second chance, not in death.
Victor and I have had our ups and downs, our fair share of bad blood and resentment, but the truth of the matter is I’ll always be thankful for the gift he gave me when he gave me his blessing to finally make a life for myself and his daughter.