Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Tiernan sat manspread, looking every bit the scary mobster that he was, shooting questions like a firing squad, demanding to know when he could take me to the opera.
This should have been one of the most monumental and happiest moments of my life, but my mind was a million miles away.
With the letter I received, which was burning a hole in my bag.
With the prospect of losing him. Of failing to navigate this situation.
In Vegas, where danger awaited my husband, my protector, my…well, love.
I was in love with him.
In love with his words and his thoughts and his warped sense of humor. With his violence and darkness that he wore like an impenetrable armor. An armor only I got to peek under.
I was in love with his veiny hands, broad back, neck kisses, Latin tattoos, hugs from behind, and that one green eye with the golden flecks that missed nothing and rarely blinked.
And I’d never been closer to losing him.
To the Bratva.
To our secret.
To this baby in my womb.
My lack of hearing didn’t make me incomplete—I was still a whole, round, three-dimensional human. With talents and weaknesses and likes and dislikes.
But the possibility of losing Tiernan? That would finish me.
“Well, Mrs. Callaghan, I am pleased to inform you that you’re an excellent candidate for a cochlear implant,” the doctor concluded, gathering papers on his desk. “You have sensorineural hearing loss and an excellent grasp of speech understanding. Your MRI also suggests your ear anatomy is compatible with cochlear implantation.”
“Does this mean she’ll be able to hear?” Tiernan spun his pinky ring.
“There is no guarantee to anything in this life, but all the signs are extremely positive,” the doctor reiterated.
“Just like that?” I asked verbally.
Dr. Castile offered a kind smile. “Just like that, I suppose.”
All this time I could’ve had a hearing aid and my mother didn’t even present me with the option. Shockingly, I was too exhausted to muster fresh rage. What more could be said about a woman who cut ties with her daughter the minute I decided to show the world who I truly was?
“Of course, this will have to wait until after the arrival of your baby,” the doctor said.
“Of course.” Tiernan’s mouth twisted in a crooked, dark grin devoid of joy. “The baby comes first.”
Nothing had changed. He still didn’t want this baby.
I had no guarantee his disdain for him wouldn’t outweigh his fondness of me once the baby was born.
I was going to get what I thought I wanted.
To hear music. Bask in laughter. Bathe in all the sounds I always wondered about. Birds singing. Church bells ringing. Waves crashing on the shore.
But I might lose the one thing I didn’t even know I needed.
Still, I was going to tell him about the letter. After Vegas. When his mind was clear.
Even if it meant losing him, I couldn’t lie to him. He deserved more.
When we exited the clinic, my husband put his hand on the small of my back. He opened the door for me.
“I thought you’d be happy.” He wore an odd expression. “This is your dream, Lila. To dance to music.”
My dream had changed. The current one was to live happily ever after with my husband and son.
Bonus points if they tolerated each other.
“When are you leaving?” I changed the subject.
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Plane takes off tomorrow evening.”
I closed my eyes and gulped in a breath that didn’t reach the bottom of my lungs.
“You’re going to waltz, Lila,” he reiterated. “Often. And well. You’ll be the belle of every ball. I’ll make sure of it.”
I smiled a sad smile.
“What good would waltzing do me if I have no husband to dance with?”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
TIERNAN
132 DAYS TO SELF-DESTRUCTION
The morning I flew to Vegas with Achilles and Luca, I stopped at my sister’s apartment to ask her to take care of Lila. I issued similar requests to Da and Fintan. Not that my father was capable of taking care of a goldfish, but hey, at least he’d feel included.
Camorra and Irish soldiers were already in Vegas, preparing ammo and transportation.
I didn’t want to go.
But I didn’t have a choice, either.
Alex had every reason to kill me. Which was ironic, because for the first time, I actually found a reason to live.
My little expiration project proved to be successful. Fintan was right. I found a reason to live. I just hoped I didn’t die doing something stupid.
I showed myself into Tierney’s apartment, as always.
I heard the shower running and waited in the living room until my sister was done. Her place was too frou-frou for my taste. Compensation for the time we spent sleeping in piss-soaked cots, I suppose. I gave myself a leisurely tour, checking out the new art she purchased.
Something on the credenza under a genuine Emilia Spencer painting made me stop. A piece of mangled paper peeking from under a vase. It had a phone number and a name.