Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
Slow burn...in ch13, we'll flash forward in time and keep going. This weekend is essential, though - with so many views and different things happening, how it's all changing. Enjoy!
Is anyone still reading? LOL
HUGE thank you for everyone who does/has followed the story over here =D Love you guys!
"Riders on the Storm"
Chapter Ten: Actions Speak Louder
Sonny POV
"Thank you, Uncle Carlisle."
He winked, pinching Dame's cheek with his knuckles. "If you ever need to talk, my door is always open."
I pushed my hair back, still annoyed. "I'm going inside… And take a shower!" I hollered back to Dame.
That chick Amelia was probably here already. Hopefully Damion will wear a suit and make a good impression. Since this is his main address, he still has most of his shit here. I've been to his dorm. The man lives like a monk, only has the basic essentials. It's weird to say the least, especially since he has a roommate. I think he has a laptop, a phone charger, and some clothes. Last I saw, there were books everywhere, the walls bare.
Dorm life was never for me. I always commuted—being that I also went to NYU and loved my privacy—or I slept at Eclipse back when it used to be Dad's office. That pullout couch is pretty comfortable. Then when I started law school, I had this teeny studio near Washington Square Park, up until last year when Dad said the tenants in his apartment building were leaving. Now I live a few blocks away, and I'm privy to everything. I loved this neighborhood—a part of me feels like I own it—and I don't predict that I'll be leaving soon.
By the time I made it up to the living room, all the females were sitting around and congregating—doing what women do—and talking. I waved and smiled, trying not to let my gaze linger on Amelia at all. She was here, and she was gorgeous—a petite brunette with a pretty smile and a fat ass.
My brother was going to love her.
I'm partial to blondes with big tits these days; however, I don't really have a set preference.
No, women is a type.
I smirked to myself.
"Sonny!" Mom smiled brightly, waving me over. "This is Amelia Drasso."
Realizing she must look like her mother, I was thankful she didn't resemble Luke at all as I shook her hand. "It's great to meet you."
"What, you're no longer going by Santino?" Alex asked through a laugh. "You usually correct people." She gulped the rest of her wine and was quick to pour herself some more.
I hummed, low and under my breath.
My mother and Alex were together, and there was wine.
It was going to be one of those nights.
"I know, right?" Mom snorted. "It's Santino—get it straight, son!" She brought her voice down to a low baritone, trying to mimic me.
I think in this family . . . insults and being abused are the sincerest form of flattery. They were poking fun, yet they were endearing. "Funny." I winked at my mother, glad she was having a good time with her friend—at anyone's expense.
"You know we love you." She gave me half a hug.
"So…is it Sonny or Santino?" Amelia asked.
I shrugged. "Whichever."
"I like Santino . . ." She grinned. "Is that your Benz…the black AMG, outside?"
"It is…" I placed my hands in my pockets, extremely uncomfortable. Amelia had stood up to speak to me. But my mother and Alex were sitting behind her—silently making lewd gestures and pointing—acting like perverted children.
Nevertheless, I thought Amelia was here for Damion, yet this is exactly how all the blind dates my mother's sent me on have started. The chicks usually have prior knowledge, too, which is weird. It's as though my mother gives them a pep talk, a spank on the ass, and then sends them to hit on her sons. I know the deal, although I don't know why she's always so concerned about our love lives—or lack thereof.
She's a nosy, overbearing meddler that I love to death, because . . . her intentions come from the heart, no matter her reasoning. She wants us happy.
"It's a beautiful car…I mean, really. My dad has a gray one."
"That's his baby," Mom said, trying her hardest not to laugh. And I didn't know what was funny. Okay, so the both them acting like jackasses is always a laugh riot, but they were being corny.
"I can see why—" Amelia went to turn around, but I stopped her from looking back at them.
"Have you met everyone yet?" I removed my hand from her shoulder.
She smiled, shaking her head.
When I heard Dad coming up the stairs, I presented him like a game show host. "This is my father—Mr. Cullen."
Dad wore a long face as he took the last few steps. "How you doin', hon?"
"That's Amelia…" I tilted my head.
"Welcome…glad you could join us." He shook her hand, looking bored. "Food ready yet?"
Mom and Alex had composed themselves, of course. "Well, I slowed the process since, um...Gio should be here any minute."
"Fantastic." Dad threw his hands up, and to Amelia he likely looked genuinely happy. "That's wonderful." He left us, going down the hall. "Forget about the rest of us who are starving . . ."
"Edward!" Mom suddenly had a tone.
"Yeah, yeah…" He grumbled from down the hall.
"Geez…What crawled up his butt?" Alex asked.
Mom rolled her eyes. "I mentioned Peto."
I slowly blew out a breath, wanting to follow after Dad.
I was just standing here, and I didn't want to be rude . . .
Then I noticed Amelia didn't have a drink. "Can I get you something to drink?" She was wearing her jacket, too. She must have literally just got here. "Lemme take that for you."
"Thanks." She shrugged out of the waist-length leather jacket. Amelia wore a tight pair of blue jeans and these black boots that reached her thighs, and a plain cotton, long-sleeved shirt that was fitted and matched her footwear.
It was a hot outfit . . . for someone on a motorcycle gang.
It's not what I'm used to seeing broads wear to a family dinner, or what chicks within this circle wear period—it's definitely not what I usually go for personally. I usually end up with the chick wearing the shortest mini-dress.
Today, we were all casual. I'm in jeans, too. Whatever.
Anyway, based on her outfit alone, I could tell she truly was here for Dame.
My mother knows better.
Because, like I said, she coaches these females before they get here.
And I bet Amelia was supposed to seem as though she was interesting, or had an edge.
Because leather jackets do that, and Dame thinks he's an extra from Grease. He wears shit like that, too.
Snort.
Now if Shorty pulled out a mag from her boot and then loaded a nine, I'd come in my pants. As if she was some over-dressed Laura Croft. But none of the women I know are like that.
"What are you ladies drinking?" She was at home with them, which makes my assessment true—even more so.
"The Merlot is on the counter," Mom said.
Amelia awkwardly pointed to the kitchen. "I'll just…help myself?"
I raised a brow at my mother while I hung up her jacket.
"Sonny will fetch it for you." What Mom said made Alex crack up.
"Woof woof…" My aunt slapped her knee.
I wanted to give her one of those reassuring, I-know-what-you-did-with-my-brother-last-night looks, but I didn't.
"Kitchen's right through here." I gestured.
Amelia walked over the threshold just in time for my mother to dry hump the air. "I'm sorry." She was hysterical with laughter.
"I think youse had enough wine."
"Oh…we're just being silly." Mom pouted. "We're not drunk."
I didn't reply, joining Amelia at the counter. "We have other shit, too . . . soda, water, juice—" I opened the fridge.
"I have a driver." She nodded. "I can…drink. Plus, it's Saturday night."
"Do you have any plans?" I asked, going over to grab a wine glass.
"Nope." She popped the 'P' when she said that, and I hate when people do that. "You?"
"I have to shoot by the club later…make an appearance." I poured the Merlot for her.
"And you—" She pointed to me slowly, like she was trying to remember something. "You run the strip club in Midtown?"
"Eclipse." I handed her the glass.
"That must be so cool, on the seedy side and edgy…"
"Not really," I said. "Not Eclipse…it's always been upscale, not like those joints in Jersey—sorry."
"No, by all means…the ones by me are crappy…some have toothless dancers." She made a face. "They're dumps. But of course most places in Manhattan cater to elitists and such." She sipped her wine, and I had no idea if she'd just insulted me. "Since it's 'Manhattan' and all . . ." She uses air quotes and pops her 'P's, and that grated on my nerves.
"Yeah, well . . . If that's your thing, feel free to stop by." I bit my tongue, but then thought, fuck it. "Have a lap dance on me."
The side of her mouth pulled up. "Promise?"
I chuckled to myself, surprised by that response. "Definitely." In my periphery, I saw Dame make a made dash across the doorway—he's probably running to the shower.
"Run, Stinky, run!" Mom shouted.
"What was that?" Amelia pointed.
I shrugged, having no idea how to play that off. "Damion should be around soon . . ."
"Right . . . He's at NYU?"
"Yup . . . and you're…?" I remembered she was pre-med, or something like that.
"Well, I was wait listed at NYU...for the pre med program. I just started my third year of undergrad at Rutgers." She kept her head down.
"Oh...that's cool." I didn't know how to reply, or why she'd feel bad about that.
"I'm studying biology. Honestly, I'm not completely sold yet on med school. It's a lot of work." She sipped her wine. "I'd have to wait a long time to...to do certain things," she spoke into the glass. "You know how it goes...for the girls anyway. Marry her off before she's too old." She trailed off with a giggle, yet neither of us truly found that funny.
"I've heard from my brother, about the heavy course load?" I tried to lighten the mood.
"I'm sorry for that...what I said." She looked sad now.
I decided to ignore that, too. "Regardless of which school, it's a very rigorous program," I said. "University in general...I remember."
"It is." Her eyes widened. "I hardly have any time to do…anything."
"And you stay at the dorms?"
"Nope. I still live at home. You?" She leaned toward me.
Not wanting to be rude, I went into the fridge for a can of Pepsi. "I have my own place."
"Oh, yeah…?" She grasped the soda from me. "Did you want ice?" She took a glass out the dish drainer and continued to serve me.
Amelia was good . . . Or, should I say, my mother was good.
"I—" I took the Pepsi from her. "I prefer to drink it out the can."
"Oh…" She stared at me. "Do you live in Manhattan?"
"Nope." I made sure not to pop that shit.
And then we both stopped talking.
I usually don't do this—make small talk. Truth be told, besides casual hook-ups—that are no-strings attached—I haven't gone on an actual date in a year. I shoot the shit with my friends, but this chick wasn't my friend. I didn't know her, nor did I care to.
Don't get me wrong. She's gorgeous. Damion's going to trip all over himself—probably make a fool out of himself. She borders on being too pretty, too good to be true, a knockout, a bombshell, but she wasn't here for me.
And all I have to do is hold out for another three months—that's it.
It's simple. I stopped dating when I found out there was a possibility of Katie carrying my child. There was no point in getting close to anyone new. Once that baby is born and it's confirmed that she's my daughter, I'll be getting Katie back.
If it goes the other way . . . I'll lick my wounds and get on with life, but only if that's what Katie wants. I'm at this point where I don't care about anything except getting my girl back. I've wasted the last seven years after our break-up searching for something . . . when I've always known exactly where Katie has been.
I'd love to stage an accident, do some old wild shit, take Raul out…
But then I remember Katie…
And even if she's not with me, even if I want her husband dead, I love her too-fucking-much to make her widow.
A divorcée on the other hand . . .
Maybe that makes me a punk, a pussy—whatever-the-fuck—but that's how it is.
I want her happy even if she's not with me.
"I'm sorry," Amelia said after a couple of minutes. "This is…weird. I know you're keeping me company to be polite, or you have no idea how to excuse yourself…I'll go sit by your mom, and you…do whatever. It's cool. No worries."
I laughed again. "I just—I don't do this." I waved a hand between us.
"What, talk to people? Guests in your parents' home?"
My uncle walked into the kitchen, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Amelia, sweetheart…how are you?" He kissed her cheek. "How's school going?"
"Great, great—"
I waved as I backed out of the kitchen.
Amelia did the same, yet her wave and smile had a sarcastic tone to it? Are people waving sarcastically now? Or was I just that much of a dud?
Regardless, I truly had nowhere else to go. I'm not a teenager anymore, and therefore hiding in my bedroom until the food was served wasn't an option.
I found myself sitting next to my mother on the couch. "What are you doing?" I asked.
She put her glass down. "I love Amelia—"
"Then you date her," I said.
"No," she whispered. "Daddy said that if Damion saw you talking to Amelia, it'd pique his interest—that he'd feel the need to one-up you, or try and steal her away, all that sibling rivalry bullshit."
"Ahhh…Dad's a smart man," I laughed; she was right on the money.
"I'd rather see Amelia with you," Alex whispered.
This was the moment I decided to give her that look. "Jealous?"
Her eyes threatened to pop out of her head. "What the hell—"
"I was kidding." I rushed out.
Either way, Alex's smile was gone. "Just…don't leave her alone with him."
"Why not?" Mom's head whipped back to her.
Alex shrugged. "With his presence…it'll be like…it'll turn into a pissing contest between them." She nodded, and that was a very good save. "Sonny could be a buffer."
"That's a good idea." Mom patted my back. "I should check on the ziti." She left us.
When she was out of earshot, I turned to Alex. "What's going on? You all right?"
She gulped, looking around, like someone might hear her.
"Just talk to me," I whispered. "No one's paying attention." The room was empty, the house basically filled with people, and by now I heard my mother speaking to my uncle and Amelia.
"I don't know what you know…Just know nothing happened, and there's nothing going on. I know Dame tells you everything…" She shook her head. "Don't leave Amelia alone with your brother."
My stomach got all queasy. What Dame said was true. He did go too far. "He scared you last night."
She stared down to the carpet, reaching for her glass. "Nothing happened." She finished off her wine.
I placed my hand on her shoulder, and she stared at it. "I'm sorry." I took my hand back. "Tell me what happened, and I'll take care of it." I'd give Damion that beat down he so clearly deserves now—beat him so fucking hard he'll never think about that shit again.
She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," Alex said, which is code for, "it happened, but we're going to pretend it didn't".
"Alex . . . tell me what he did," I whispered. "He was drunk as fuck last night. Whatever he did, he didn't mean it. He loves and respects you."
"Respects." She snorted. "Look, I'm a big girl. Just promise me you'll look out for her. Amelia's really sweet, and—God forbid…Like me, she'd never say anything. It's a huge fucking can of worms, Sonny. I mean," she reached to hold the blinged out cross on her neck, "If he disrespects Luke Drasso's daughter . . . smaller group or not, it'd be the same as Kylie being harmed. Can you imagine the downfall? War, people would die on both sides...biggest can of worms ever." She spoke rapidly and in hushed whispers, looking anxious. "We're like kingdoms if you think about it . . . Amelia is the Princess of New Jersey, and - by right - she should be respected as such."
"I don't think he'd step out of line with her..." I honestly wasn't sure, not at this point. On one hand, he might be more scared of her. On the other, did I truly know what that lunatic was capable of?
"Well, you make sure." She patted my forearm. "It's so disappointing. I always thought Dame was sweet, kind...Now I see."
"You hate him."
Alex looked over to me. "Hate's a strong word. He just—he has evil in him. I see that now. Before I married your uncle, I was with this guy for a long time—"
"Mauro." I definitely remembered that shit.
She nodded. "You weren't that little back then . . . But it was like Carlisle saved me, and it took me years to trust your uncle, years to feel protected, years to forget . . . and in one night, a fifteen minute span of time, I was back at a place I swore I'd never visit again. And around your brother no less. My guard was totally down. It's Dame, you know? Maybe what he did do isn't considered that big a deal . . . but what if he didn't stop? He was going in for it, and—"
"I'm so fucking sorry." I gnashed my teeth together, getting angry—fucking livid.
"I wasn't sure what he was going to do, and that scared the shit out of me." She stopped talking.
"Guess you got lucky . . . I'm sorry," I whispered.
"You did nothing wrong, and you might think me dramatic... Just—if he was drunk, you make sure he doesn't drink. I don't know . . . Carlisle!" she shouted for my uncle.
I leaned back, while he came into the living room.
"You bellowed, my love?" he grinned, wearing this cheesy smile.
Alex giggled and sighed, reaching for him. "Just—just sit with me."
"You don't have to ask me twice." He plopped down next to her. "It's so quiet here," he sighed, hugging her close.
"I know…I could just sit here." Alex placed her head on his chest.
And I felt horrible for her, for him. "You guys must be excited to get away?"
"You have no idea." Alex started to cry.
"Oh . . ." Like me, my uncle looked dumbfounded. "What's wrong?"
"I've just missed you—so much, so, so much." She threw her arms around him.
"I'm here." He rubbed her back, looking over to me stunned. "I'm not going anywhere." That seemed to calm her down some.
"We should just go," she said. "You spoke to Edward, right?" She wiped her eyes.
"I did…"
"Then…let's leave. We can pick up something to eat on our way."
Carlisle laughed. "You're that, uh, excited to be alone, huh?" Their conversation morphed into a private one, and I turned my head to give them some semblance of privacy.
"No one would care if we just ducked out." It looked like she was trying to be flirty, but her heart was breaking at the same time. "Just you and me…three days with no interruptions…"
"We should make this a monthly thing. I know I've been working a lot—"
"It's okay," she whispered.
"It's not. I've been…selfish. You know, we'll talk about it later." He kissed her.
I should just march into that bathroom and beat Dame's ass while he's showering. That'd be a new one.
Alex smiled as she pulled away. "We can talk about it now. You go start the car, I'll say goodbye to Bella—"
"Patience, my love . . . We'll eat and then we'll hit the road—beat all the traffic. I get to spend three whole days with you, just you . . . How lucky am I?" he asked me.
"Very." I steepled my fingers, leaning my lips to them as my mind reeled—wondering how far over the line Damion went last night. I prayed to God it truly stopped at a kiss, but he says there was a gun involved. How so? We'd definitely be having another chat. Fuck. I hope she pistol whipped his ass.
Then I was saved from the confines of my mind when Kylie came out. "Gio just called. He's here." She danced around and squealed, only to completely straighten out and stand still when the doorbell rang. "You get it," she told me.
"You're right there." I pointed to her.
"He still can't see me." She peeked into the foyer. "I wanna make an entrance." She fluffed her hair.
"Christ…" I stood up to let Peto in.
"Awww… It's cute," Carlisle said.
"I look okay?" Kylie asked them, pulling on her t-shirt.
"Gorgeous." Alex winked.
In no mood, I trampled down the few steps to open the door. "'Sup?"
He walked in throwing me a chin jerk, just as Kylie stepped out from the hallway. "How ya doin'?" he asked me as he started to take off his jacket.
"Hi." Kylie met him on the steps, reaching for his coat.
"Hey…"
They stared at each other, neither of them moving—just staring with these goofy smiles.
"Hello." There was a knock on the door.
I whipped around to see Katie. "Hey!" I was way too enthusiastic to see her.
She puffed her cheeks. "It takes me a minute, or five, to get out of the car."
I placed my hand on her back to be attentive, ushering her in. She looked gorgeous, wearing a sweater and some jeans, her bump protruding. Okay, so she was more adorable, but gorgeous nonetheless. "Just in time. Dinner's almost ready," I said.
"Oh…I can't stay. I just—"
"I thought I heard Katie!" Mom shouted.
Katie waved.
"Come in, come in. Join us for dinner." Mom smiled wide. "Look at you. I couldn't really see you in that dress yesterday." She gestured to Katie's stomach.
"I'm huge."
"You're gorgeous." I touched her cheek. "Trust me."
Katie shook her head. "I can't stay. I was just dropping Peto off."
"Oh." Mom frowned, going back for the kitchen.
"It's Gio," Peto corrected, leaving with Kylie.
Katie sighed, turning and staring up at me. "Hi."
I pushed her hair behind her ear. "Hi." My hand came back to linger on her cheek. I wanted to kiss it, but people read too much into things. "What's up?"
She looked around, and I did too, to make sure we didn't have an audience. Luckily, they all went about their business. "I—I wanted to talk to you."
"I'm listening," I whispered, the thought of her seeking me out exciting me.
"Can we . . . go somewhere and talk? I don't wanna take you away from your family." She looked down, wringing her hands together. "I'm sorry—we can talk another day."
"It's fine." I took her hands into my own. "We'll go outside."
She nodded, turning and leaving the house.
I followed her all the way out to her car, this beat-up Honda Accord she's had since high school. "This still stalling?" I asked.
"It needs a new alternator." She shrugged.
"I can have my guy look at it. Or—I know you won't let me get you a whip—but you can hold onto my Lexus. It's just sitting in the garage a few blocks away." When Katie wanted to separate herself from our world, she truly did and refused any and all financial assistance her father or I could offer.
"It's fine…I've been saving. We can't trade it in. It's not worth anything. Then we were going to lease an SUV," she grinned, "for when the baby comes…But my dad said something about getting us a minivan as a gift . . . but you know how Raul feels about that—he feels it's charity. It'll be a gift, but then he has to throw my father's job into it . . ." She shook her head. "Because we shouldn't accept blood money to help raise our child…But then who really needs a vehicle in New York City?"
The way she said "we", "us", "baby", and "our" – that whole fucking sentence; I felt like she'd stabbed me.
"Right." I kicked leaves by my feet.
"Things are coming along." She was going to ramble nervously until she finally spit it out. "We're next on the wait list for a two-bedroom at the complex. So, we don't exactly have a nursery to decorate . . . or anything just yet. But we got all this stuff already—"
"Katie…" I didn't want to hear any more.
"Um…" She started digging through her purse. "Did you wanna sit inside the car?"
I shook my head. "I'm good right here. Tell me what's up." I folded my arms across my chest, and I couldn't help but be a little angry.
Everything I'd always wanted was standing two feet from me, yet it might as well have been two thousand miles away—that's how out of reach she was.
"Okay, um." She winced, pulling out a piece of paper. "Remember what you said? About how…you wanted to—that you thought you could be her father?" Katie dejectedly rubbed her abdomen.
I gritted my teeth, not wanting to have this argument again. "We were fucking up until a month before that stick said you were knocked up."
"Shhh…don't—" She looked back to the house.
"No." I stepped toward her. "You wanna talk about it? Let's talk about it." The only person who might possibly hear us was Amelia's driver. He was too busy reading the paper, paying us no mind. Even so, I just didn't give a fuck. Maybe I wanted it all out in the open.
"I was able to-to, um, have one done."
I blinked, my heart stopped, thudded, and then kept on pumping. "How—" I swallowed.
"They did an amnio . . . I'm young, so one wasn't really needed, but they were able to run tests, too—just to make sure. She's healthy—" She turned away from me, her face crumbling.
"Hey…" I touched her cheek. "Tell, um, just tell me."
"Raul thought he was giving blood and DNA for genetic testing…I borrowed money from my dad…he doesn't know what it was for, but I bribed a nurse at the doctor's office." She sniffled. "I forged all the paperwork."
I pulled her into my arms. "Shhh…please, just tell me." I prepared myself for the blow. "Whatever it says…it'll be okay. Just spit it out."
"It won't," she cried.
It's obvious.
If Raul isn't the father, I am.
And she was so upset.
But then I realized . . .
"It doesn't matter what it says." I blurted. "I love you—always have, always will, and you feel the same . . . just be with me." Leaning my forehead to hers, I stared deeply into her beautiful hazel eyes, hoping she'd know just how serious I was.
"Sonny…" She reached up and palmed my face, making her belly touch me. It was—it was something. It was special in some way. "You know I love you." The side of her mouth turned up into a sad grin.
"I love you, too, baby." My lips barely brushed hers.
She'd turned away. "But—"
"If you want me, be with me, or…put me out of my misery." I was trying not to get upset, not to lose my temper, but this back and forth shit . . . the mixed signals. It's enough to drive the calmest of men crazy.
"I don't care whose kid that is…I love you. I'll love the baby. And if that's your thing we can have as many babies as you want . . . I'll take care of you. You'd want for nothing, and I could love—finally love you the way you should be loved."
She shook her head. "You've always—"
"I'm better now. I'm older, wiser…We've both lived enough to know what we want, and I'm choosing you." Immaturity got in our way back when we were together. Since we've truly been adults, the only things we've shared are intimate encounters.
Katie exhaled, holding her heart, and I waited—waited for her, just like I always do. "You think you want me, but—"
"Us—me and you—it'd be so easy." I spoke over her. "We wouldn't even have to try. We'd just be…" I shrugged, "but you have to tell me . . . Tell me what you want. I can't take it anymore." I poured my heart out, laid it all out there, something I'd never done before.
And I felt exposed, raw—my heart was on the ground, and there was a chance she might step on it.
I was petrified, and yet hopeful in the best way.
"Sonny—" She grasped my hand, her tone apologetic.
"No…Whether or not that's my kid . . . I love you so fucking much, baby." I kissed her temple, nuzzling my nose into her soft hair, and I never wanted her more than I did in this moment. Was it possible to be this scared and turned on at the same time? I needed to be connected to her. "It can be my kid anyway…" I whispered. "We can be a family. Whatever it is . . . we can work it out."
She shook her head, backing away from me. "I'm already married."
I groaned, turning to kick her piece-of-shit car. Then I stared up to the sky, inhaling deeply and holding my head. "He was always just a pawn. You wanted to get away from us," I waved a finger, "and your family. You're married…so fucking what. Seven months ago, that didn't stop you from showing up everywhere: the club, my crib, calling me to come over just to bump you off—"
"I've made mistakes—"
"Mistakes?" I asked in disbelief.
"God will judge me—"
"Do you hear yourself?" I thought that was hilarious, but I didn't dare laugh. "What happened between us were mistakes? My fault? When did I ever pursue you?"
She looked away from me, still crying her eyes out.
"When, Katie? When did I ever make you sleep with me, or try to get you to cheat on your husband? Oh, wait…they were 'mistakes', right? When did I ever accidently fall into your pussy?" I raised a brow, walking that tightrope between sane and batshit crazy. "If I recall…yeah, the first time you made up some excuse about how he couldn't make you come—you were going out of your mind . . . I'm the bad guy; meanwhile, I did the right thing. I stepped off so you could be happy. It didn't matter what-the-fuck I needed . . . So tell me. I mean, my whole life has been all about you, you, Katie. Tell me what I should do now."
"Please, stop…I—"
"You wanted Raul. You got him. You wanted to marry him . . . You-fucking-married him, and yet you still kept fucking with my head. Just tell me… what do you want from me?!"
"I'm sorry." She leaned onto the car.
I closed my eyes, wincing, cringing, and holding my breath.
"Sonny," she whispered.
"Just tell me what the paper says…"
Her shaking hands unfolded it, and she showed me. "Raul's DNA didn't match. She's—she's yours," Katie sobbed. "She has to be . . . if she's not his."
"What?" I stared down at her.
Her face crumbled again, and then she cried into her hands. "I can't do this—" She went to back away. "I thought I could, but…"
"Fuck that." I grabbed onto her arm. "You don't get to do this," I said. "You don't get to come here, drop that bomb, and leave—no fucking way."
"I've—I found out last month."
"And this is the first I'm hearing about it?" I couldn't believe her, the nerve of her for keeping this from me, but then I realized something. "She's mine?" I nodded, tears pricking my eyes. "I'm—I'm go-going to be a dad?"
Katie cried quietly, refusing to look at me.
"This is—it's amazing." I touched her stomach, palming it with both my hands as I got down to my knees. "She's mine." I kissed her, my heart swelling. Getting the news I'd been desperate to hear was music to my ears.
Katie placed her hands on mine, pushing me away. "I, um, I wanted to settle this before she was born…Seeing you all—seeing you at the party…I just…The way you looked at me when I said it was a girl…You looked so hopeful." She covered her face again. "You love me so much . . . It's overwhelming. It's always been."
"I do…I'm crazy about you." I pulled her to me. "It'll be fine. I'm sure our parents will be shocked, but…it'll work out, and who cares what they have to say anyway. You and me…we can get a house before she's born. Your divorce will be final by then…We can finally get married." I beamed up at her as tears fell down my cheeks.
"Oh, Sonny…" she whimpered.
"What is it?" I wiped my eyes. "That's just off the top of my head…We can do whatever—we can do it whichever way you want. Just talk to me."
"You don't want a kid!" She tried to let go of my hand, but I wouldn't let her. "You can't leave the clubs, or the women…all that stuff. You're always on the move, always going out of town. And I—"
I dropped her hand, getting to my feet quickly. "You—" I couldn't even get the words out because… "You want Raul."
She let out a wail, collapsing against her car. "I'm so sorry—"
Regardless of how hurt I was, one fact remained true. "That's MY daughter. You're insane if you think you can keep her away from me . . . Another man isn't going to get you and MY. FUCKING. KID!"
"Please…"
I started to pace. I needed to do something with my body or else I'd explode. Literally, I'd crumple into a million tiny pieces—a mess for the street sweeper. I had to keep moving. "How could you do this? How could you constantly keep me at arm's reach for all these. FUCKING. YEARS?!"
"I'm sorry."
I whipped around to face her. "You don't get to be sorry." I grabbed onto her arms. "You selfish fucking bitch! You don't get to do this—play me like a fucking fiddle." She fought against me, and I tried to hold her still—she'd run from me if I didn't. "When that baby's born…you and the baby…you're mine! You fucking hear me!" My nose was practically touching her cheek, screaming in her face. "Do you understand? I'm sure I don't have to tell you . . . That's my kid." I thought better. "You know what? You can do what you want…but that's my child. Stay married to Raul—"
"No!" She tried to push me.
I blocked her. "Overall, he's a nice guy," my tone was hushed, "I'd hate—fucking hate to see something happen to him."
She stopped squirming, slowly turning to lock eyes with me. "You wouldn't—Sonny, you can't. It's not his fault."
"Then get rid of him yourself." I eased up, alleviating the pressure with which I was holding her without letting her go. "Or give me full custody. Either way, I'm her father." I touched her stomach.
She tried to cringe away. "You're scaring me."
Seeing her cry tears for fear, I realized what a monster I'd become. The anger ebbed, a feeling of immense sadness replacing it. A hurt I couldn't describe.
"You're—I'm scaring me, too." My face crumbled for the briefest of seconds. "No…you don't get to do this to me—"
"Sonny…please. I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I can't be who you want me to be…you don't want me."
"Yes, I do!" I shouted, hugging her to me tightly.
"Let go of me!"
I did.
I backed away from her, afraid I'd do something I'd regret. The anger, the sadness, the frustration: they all kept flooding me with hard waves. To my surprise, I was still on my feet. "Was any of it real? Or was I just a good fuck?"
"Don't say that—"
"Why not?!" I screamed, a million unanswered questions popping up in my brain. "Does he know?"
She shook her head.
I smiled, nodding my head. "He will. Soon enough . . . he'll know."
"Oh my God . . ." She slowly shook her head. "I just—I wanted to put your mind at ease. Can't you understand? There's a chance Raul might never know. I only had the test done because you—"
"Because you sure as fuck were having one when the baby was born. I was going to make sure of it—even if I had to get the courts involved. That's how much I want this—you, the baby. But you don't want me, which just makes me look like a fool." I must have looked like the dumbest fuck on the planet—standing in the street, crying my eyes out, practically fucking begging. "I'm not doing this anymore. You don't want me, fine…but what I said before still goes." I tried to calm myself down. "Katie, you and me-" I waved a finger between us, "we're done—whatever we are…it's over."
"I'm doing you a favor. I'll tell Raul—I-I-I don't care. It's not his fault. You can't hurt him." She sobbed into her hands, inhaling deeply to stare at me. "This is my child, and I'm going to raise her. I came here because—I wanted to put your mind at ease, like I said. I can do this on my own . . . I'm giving you an out."
"I don't want one! What are you fucking stupid?" I couldn't believe any of this.
"I know you want to do the right thing—"
"It's never been about the right thing…I've loved you since…Katie, I can't even remember…I've just always." I was crying again, frustrated, heartbroken—just broken. "How—"
"I love you, too."
I looked up to the sky again, exasperated. "Then why—"
"Sonny, you think you want this, but you don't…" Her lip quivered. "And I refuse—re-fucking-fuse to turn into one of those goomba housewives, while you're out doing whatever-the-fuck!" she shouted at me. "You're not going to stop. It'll be fun for a little while, but you'll get bored, and then you'll move on. I know you…You want me to be something I can't be…And I want you so much." She paused, shoulders slumping.
Katie reached for me, but I refused to take her hand. "Sonny…I love you so much it hurts…it hurts me…our love overwhelms me, and I can't think straight. I made a mistake…I'll admit, I should have never gotten married, but I can't be your wife. I can't—I can't be married to you and the thing! I can't be your bed warmer, while you're—"
"How can you say that?" I shook my head. "When did I ever do you dirty?" Throughout our whole relationship—when we were together—she was the only woman I was with. "When I'm committed, I'm loyal. When I'm single, I-fucking-mingle, and it's only because you aren't available." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "I was never bored with you. You're just looking for excuses because you're scared, because now we have a shot, we could really go for it…and you don't even wanna try. What's your true reluctance?"
She didn't reply.
I nodded. "You've spent your whole life running from this, from Brooklyn, from your family…but have you ever stopped to take a look around? Look at all the happy marriages around you . . . You believe some concept, some bullshit your lunatic mother ingrained into your brain. You make assumptions, you judge me; meanwhile…" It was a low blow to throw all our encounters while she's been Mrs. Sanchez in her face.
"I fucking hate you!"
I shrugged, slapping my hands down on my thighs in exasperation.
"You think I don't know about you—sleeping around, bed-hopping?" She stepped closer, and I was sure she'd swing at me. "How you just fucked that girl last night in the bathroom? Then you just tossed her away like garbage. Was she even eighteen? Oh, and I can't forget the chick you came with. The stripper?"
"She's not a stripper," I said.
"How the fuck do you keep track of all of them? I'm having a hard time." The fire in her eyes drew me closer to her, when I should be backing away.
"How'd you know—"
"Oh, please. She was giggling with her friends ten minutes later—how she bagged the great Santino Cullen. Why someone would be so proud to be a notch in your belt is beyond me." She looked at me with disgust.
"Yesterday, hell, right now? I'm fucking single until you say otherwise. I make no apologies for the shit I've done. If we were together—"
"Save it." She scoffed.
"If we were together, I'd have everything—I'd have everything I need in you." I placed my hand over her heart.
She pushed me away. "You think I'm an idiot?"
I snorted without humor. "And me, bed-hopping? Me?" I pointed to myself. "You'd go from mine to his . . . Did'ju think of me every time he was hitting you off?"
And I got the slap across my face, the one I'd been waiting for. "You're a fucking man-whore! And you expect me to believe that you'd stop, like that?" She snapped her fingers.
Little did she know sleeping around was like an anesthetic for me—that whole: if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. I did what I could to dull the ache.
"The late hours, the worrying—"
"Again, bullshit your mother has told you. I'm sure there'll be late nights. I'm sure there'll be times you'll worry. But my heart, me—I'd be all yours."
She set her jaw, squaring it and turning away. "I can't trust you—not this you, not this version of the Sonny I fell in love with." The tears were back. "You're totally different."
"You saying you can't trust me because of me, or because of my occupation? Because of what you think guys like me do?" I raised a brow. "If you love me—fuck!" I kicked her tire.
"Because—" She started.
"Why should I even bother?" I found myself laughing. "The way I see it now…" Suddenly flippant and a whole new level of angry, I backed away from her. "Now I have three months to get my shit together. I have three months to do what I gotta do . . . because during custody battles? They're going to dig on both sides." I wiped my hands clean. "You can't prove a fucking thing…I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you. You and me? We're done. I'll see you in court, when I can pick up my child. You better borrow some more money from Daddy for a decent lawyer. 'Cause I sure as fuck will have a team of my own."
"Don't!"
I turned, going back toward the house.
"Sonny!"
I needed my keys, so that I could beat her home—come clean to her husband.
With so much hate in my heart, I hoped he'd kick her out on her ass.
And when she'd show up at my apartment, I'd ignore the bell.
Fuck this. She'd done enough shit to me—fucked with me all my life. She can do whatever she wants—stay with Raul, or not, but I'll take my chance in court, try my hardest for half or full custody. I'm not completely irrational. Angry as hell, I still knew that I'd never be able to just kidnap my own child—do that to her, as much as I wanted to hate her.
"Sonny, please. You doing this—severing all ties with me? You can't do it—"
"Watch me." There was nothing left to be said.
She played enough games, fucked with me…
"You know how much I love you. I can't live without you in my life." She tried to grab my hands, and I pulled them away.
"Don't touch me. You can't be my wife; you won't let me be a father. Get the fuck away from me! Step off—get in your car and go."
"…I want to be with you, but—"
That caught my attention. "But what?"
She slowly shook her head, tears in her eyes, swallowing, like she didn't want to say anything.
"Fine." I ran into the house, slamming the door closed in her face.
Mom, Dad, Damion, and my uncle were all in the foyer, while the rest stood at the top of the stairs. I was sure—by their blank faces and the tears in my mother's eyes—that they heard most, if not all, of our argument.
"Sonny..." Dad reached for me.
I shrugged his arm off, running up the stairs. "I gotta go."
"Wait a fucking minute!" He ran after me. I heard his feet stomping, which only made me run into my childhood bedroom faster.
I slammed that door, just like so many times before.
Then I paused, looking around for my keys.
My childhood—everything in this room had Katie on it, reminded me of her. It was like I kept this place as a shrine to her, a place I could think about her. We'd fucked—at one time or another—on every piece of furniture in the room. Fuck, our daughter could have been conceived on that bed, when we'd snuck in a quickie on Good Friday.
Easter came early this year, and I didn't have a condom.
"Sonny?" It was Damion. "Bro, let me in."
"Fuck off!" I spat, wondering if I was going to live in here before I grasped my keys from the nightstand.
"Hey…" It was Dad now. "Just—"
I opened the door, refusing to look at any of their faces, sure that mine was tear-stained. "I gotta go."
"You're not going anywhere." Dad blocked my escape, and that fucker Damion grabbed onto my arms from behind.
"Let go!" I was able to get free of my brother, but Dad was still walking backward as I advanced.
My father got in my face. "Stop, or I'll fucking lay you out right here!"
I groaned, trying to sidestep him, but he just moved with me. "Get out of my way—"
"I need you to calm down." He placed his hand on my chest.
Gritting my teeth, I steeled myself and pushed past him. We had a little scuffle. No punches were thrown; he just wouldn't get off me.
"I love him. Bella, I love him…so much—" I heard Katie crying somewhere. "He can't leave me…I just—I don't know what to do."
I paused, my chest heaving.
"You gonna act right?" Dad asked.
"I love him—"
"Fuck you!" I shouted.
Like the Hulk, I just pushed, sprinted down the hall, while I felt Dad and Dame pulling me back. "Don't you dare fucking lie to my mother's face. You lied enough to me…you love me? You can't live without me? Since fucking when? You probably used me to get pregnant; since your husband couldn't…then you come here to tell me shit, all to say you don't want me? For what? Fuck you!" I was shouting at the top of my lungs.
My words compulsory—my blood boiling, my muscles coiling, ready to spring.
Those words made her cry harder; meanwhile, Mom and Peto were consoling her in the foyer. "Get out! Get the fuck out of my life!" I needed to be free of the sight of her.
"Sonny…please," Mom cried.
And seeing her tears . . . the both them crying huddled together.
"I have to leave. I gotta go—" I stopped, showing them my calm hands, wanting Dad and Dame to let me go, while I had my uncle to my side.
"Just take a minute." Carlisle touched my shoulder, and I instinctually threw my fist out.
"Stop!" Dad caught my arm, and then stood in my way. "You're not going anywhere like this—neither of you." He said it loud enough for Katie to hear. "C, call Aro—"
"No!" Katie shouted.
I massaged my forehead. "The whole family's getting involved now?" I made fists with both my hands, needing everyone to back-the-fuck-away from me. I needed to hit something—I was about to burst.
"Sonny, please." Katie tried to push past my mother. "Please, let me talk." She actually got down onto her knees.
"Shhh." Mom was a mess, trying to wipe her tears away. "You being this upset is no good. Relax." She hugged onto her.
I looked away—couldn't look at them anymore. "I'm fine. I just—"
"No, Sonny—don't go." Katie eased out of Mom's hold. "I'm begging you…please, baby. Please!" The desperation in her voice…it was enough to bring me to my knees. "Please…Please." It didn't even sound like a word anymore.
But she's probably fucking with me again.
"Sonny . . ." She fell back, sitting on her ass, her body rocking with sobs, and everyone else was quiet—no one said a word. I'd realized I'd stopped fighting against them. My chest still heaved, but I was numb—stunned, paralyzed, and couldn't move. Then my vision blurred and the tears spilled. "Just talk to me, hear me out…I'll leave my husband. I could never love him the way I love you. I just—I just—" She broke down.
"Oh, Katie…" Mom got onto the floor to hold her. "It's gonna be all right," she crooned. "Deep breaths."
Katie let out a wail; one so loud and pain-filled, I could feel it—if that was possible. "I'm scared…You can't leave me." It came out strangled.
"Shhh…It's going to be okay," Mom said. "Sonny's right there. He's not going anywhere."
Carlisle gently squeezed my hand, and the contact woke me up in some way.
"Sonny…" she cried into my mother's hair.
I swallowed, my throat thick, before I took that first step—the first step toward my future. "I'm here." I rasped, slowly going down the stairs. "Come on."
My mother let go, and I gathered Katie into my arms.
"Sonny…" She clawed at me.
"I'm here." I kissed her hair as I started to rock us. "I'm not going anywhere."
"I love you." She kissed me and cried into my mouth, a sobbing mess.
"I love you, too."
"You can't—" She hugged me tightly. "You—"
"I'm not going anywhere," I said.
Whew . . . You guys okay? *hands out some tissues*
Thank you for reading.
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