Page 148 of I Stop Somewhere Waiting For You

“Dada douche?” Maddox looks to me, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss with a snort. “No, little man. Can’t have none of that. Your Auntie J is gonna whoop me. Imma need you to do Uncle Mav a solid and keep that between us.”

“Unc Mav.” He smiles a toothy grin, pulling my aviators from my face and placing them on his own.

“Badass, little dude.” I hold my fist up to him, which he happily bumps with his own. Maddox may only be two but give him a couple more years and he’ll be giving all of us a run for our money. Both of these boys already keep us on our toes, and I shudder to think what their teenage years have in store for us.

Bentley rounds the track on his final lap, making his approach toward the finish line. Nicky pulls ahead, but just briefly before easing up off the throttle, allowing Bentley to overtake him and cross first.

“Yeah!” Bentley skids to a stop and jumps from the bike, ripping off his helmet in the process as he bounces toward me. “Daddy! Did you see?! I crushed him!” He leaps into me, and I scoop him up, balancing both him and Maddox in my arms.

“I saw, little man. It was epic.”

“Be honest. You tampered with my bike.” Nicky approaches, removing his helmet to reveal a goading smile. He extends his hand, his fingers wiggling at Bent.

“Nuh-uh.” A wide smile stretches across my son’s face as he mirrors his uncle’s gesture, his fingers meeting Nick’s for some woogity woogity. “You’re just too slow, Uncle Nicky.”

“I’m too slow?” Nicky feigns a look of shock. “Me? If I was too slow, then could I do this?” He launches forward, pulling Bentley from my arms and tossing him over his shoulder as he spins around in circles. Bentley howls with laughter as he claws at Nicky’s back.

“Dada! Dada!” Maddox claps, bouncing up and down in my grasp. He gestures toward the ground, demanding I place him down so he can join in on the chaos. I comply, chuckling as he rushes forward, arms outstretched.

Nicky slows, glancing down at him with a smile. “You want some, my dude?”

“Me too! Dada, Up! Up!”

Nicky laughs as he dives down, lifting him up as well.

“What are you lunatics doing out here?”

I smile at the sound of my wife’s voice as her arms wrap around me from behind. “Hey, baby.” My hands travel up my chest to grip hold of hers. “What took you so long?”

“Was finishing something up.” J slips around my side, coming to stand in front of me as my arms encircle her waist.

I stare down at her, still mesmerized by her beauty. I’m more in love with her today than I was yesterday, but nowhere near how much I’ll love her tomorrow. We live a life I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams.

J and I got married barefoot on the beach in Hyannis the summer after I proposed. She wore a black wedding dress and carried a bouquet of burgundy peonies. I cried like a little bitch the second I saw her. Nicky was my Best Man. It took a solid year before he stopped busting my balls about it.

After the Cathedral renovation was complete, we moved in, though we still maintain our place in the city. She barely made it a year before I put a baby in her, and it was a miracle she was able to convince me to hold off that long. The day J told me she was pregnant was the greatest day of my life, overshadowed only by the day my son was born.

Bentley Nicholas Bishop was born on May eleventh, my birthday, seven years to the day after our miscarriage. And while nothing will ever make up for the loss of our first baby, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel like the universe righting another wrong. The moment the doctor placed my son in my arms, my heart exploded. His birth absolved all my sins, banished all my demons, laid my monster to rest. J showed me what love was. My son showed me the infinite extent it could reach.

The years that followed were a whirlwind. J finished her Master’s program and became a licensed mental health counselor. She specializes in trauma informed practices, working primarily with victims of sexual assault. She’s still at the clinic, though now she’s the director. She even founded a charity that helps to house victims struggling to get back on their feet. Battered wives, women who turned to drugs after their assaults, women too fearful to live in buildings that house men following their attacks… her foundation provides housing along with extensive clinical support built into treatment plans tailored to each individual person. Her program has a ninety-eight percent reintegration success rate within eighteen months or less. My wife’s a fucking rockstar.

Nicky and I donated a few buildings to the cause, so they weren’t operating in a shit neighborhood anymore. It wasn’t just about J being the director. Those women deserve to feel safe.

Nicky and I now own three bars together in addition to my clubs. One in Queen City and two in New York City. They’re so successful, we’re currently in talks to begin franchising nationwide. It’s crazy to think two guys who used to hate each other are as close as we are now, but that motherfucker’s my brother and I wouldn’t change it for the world. We do everything together. Shit, we even bought adjacent properties in Cape Cod so we can continue vacationing there every summer together, just like he and J did when they were young.

I don’t know what I did to deserve such a beautiful family and life, but the universe saw fit to give it and I happily accepted.

“Did you see your son kick Nicky’s ass?” I continue watching as Nicky allows Bentley and Maddox to jump all over him, falling to the ground in a dramatic show of defeat.

“I did. At what age do you think Nicky’s gonna stop letting him win?”

“At the rate Bent’s going with the gloating?” I snort. “Probably five.”

“Well—” she turns to face them, maintaining her hold around my waist from the side “—once Maddox gets the hang of it, Bent better up his game, because you know that one’s coming for him.”

“That one,” I shake my head with a chuckle, “is going to be a handful. Jesus, I don’t know how Nicky does it on the weekends he’s by himself.”

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