I was flushed and angry and embarrassed as I practically ran down the hall, and much too distracted to note when Dean’s office door opened. He stepped out just as I went past, and I smashed into his knee and went sprawling to the floor.
My shoulder bashed onto the tile floor and I groaned.
“Shit,” Dean said. “Mags, are you okay?” He helped me up to my feet and steered me into his office.
“I’m fine,” I said, though I was definitely not fine. My shoulder pulsed where I’d hit it, and I didn’t appreciate getting manhandled by both my uncle and my husband.
“Sit here,” he said, and gently pushed me down into a chair. He filled a glass with whiskey, because of course whiskey, why not, it cured everything. He shoved it into my hand.
“Yeah, okay,” I said, and drank half it down. The burn felt good in my throat.
“What the hell was that back there?” he asked, perching on the edge of his desk.
I sighed and met his eyes. I didn’t want to do this, not with him, but it was too late for that. He wore a tight button-down dress shirt, top button undone, tie loose and dark navy with small star patterns. The sleeves and the pants fit him like a dream, and I realized all over again that my husband was absolutely gorgeous, and a complete nightmare.
“My uncle visited,” I said.
“I heard him yelling. Should I get rid of him?” He tilted his head, and I knew he meant it.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll let himself out.”
“What did he want?”
I sighed, closed my eyes, and drank the last of the whiskey. “He wants me to have your babies,” I said.
Dean laughed once but his smile slowly died as I stared up into his eyes.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“I think that’s his endgame,” I said. “He wants me to seduce you and start pumping out little heirs to your stupid mafia throne. Like I’m some horse out to stud or something.”
“The male horses go to stud,” he said softly. “But anyway, I understand your point.”
“Babies weren’t part of the bargain,” I said. “Marriage was all I signed up for.”
“True,” he said and ran a finger down his chin. I thought of that finger running down my skin, down between my legs—
Maybe the alcohol was a bad idea.
“It’s crazy,” I said. “He thinks it’s my wifely duty or something like that.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad though,” he said.
And I gaped at him like he just ripped off his own face and it turned out that he was actually a two-headed lizard.
“Sorry, did you just say you want to have kids with me?” I asked, shaking my head. “What was in that drink?”
He laughed and shifted to sit down in the chair next to me. “I’m not saying we need to have kids right now, but it would be fun to make them,” he said.
“And then there’d be dirty diapers, sleepless nights, and, oh, yeah, our marriage is a sham based on money, so—” I stopped myself before I could go down that never-ending rabbit hole.
He laughed and held up his hands. “All fair points. And even still, thinking about fucking you, coming between your legs, getting you pregnant with my baby—”
“What is wrong with you people?” I asked and jumped to my feet. “Is there some rule in the mafia where you have to say crazy things?”
“Babies with you wouldn’t be so bad,” he said. “At least you’d have something to do for the next five years.”
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought it might break. “Is that what you think of me?” I asked. “I’m some baby factory for you? Some toy for you to fuck and get pregnant?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s what you said.” I stormed to the door. “God, every time we talk, I’m reminded why you’re such an ass.”
“Mags,” he said, standing. “Wait, hold on. I’m just saying, kids might be a good idea.”
“For you, maybe,” I said. “For me, not so much. God, you’re unbelievable.”
“Think about it,” he said.
I flipped him off and left his office.
Bea stood in the hallway wiping her hands on her apron. “Are you okay?” she asked.
I stormed past her. “I’m surrounded by crazy people,” I said.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Yes, you are, dear.”
I went upstairs and slammed my bedroom door shut. I collapsed into bed, the buzz of the whiskey sliding into my skull, and buried my head under my pillows. I don’t know how today happened, but suddenly my uncle and my husband both wanted me to get pregnant, and I didn’t know which was worse.
No, I knew. My husband wanting it was much, much worse.
Kids were a bad idea. A very bad idea. It would bind me to him forever, and I’d never get away. But the fact that he was interested in it, that he didn’t dismiss it outright—
That sent a very strange thrill through my chest.
Not that I’d do it, because no way, that was literally insane. But I liked that he wanted to, or at least that he was considering it.
I liked that he wanted me.
Which only freaked me out more, of course, and made me realize that while I was definitely living in the midst of some very crazy people—
Maybe I was the craziest of all them.
9
Dean
The church on Washington Avenue rose up like a spire above the industrial cityscape. This part of Philadelphia used to be a bustling metropolis of work in small-time factories building cars, instruments, anything that needed shaping and heating and molding from the great furnaces that fired in their bellies. Those factories were long gone, but the church remained.
Sunday Mass was a tradition in my
