Page 59 of Affliction

The bell over the door jingled, announcing the arrival of another diner looking to score the daily special. Ever since Cilla started baking pies for Millie’s, the number of patrons coming into have a piece of warm pie jumped. Thankfully, now that she was only working part time, she had more time and energy to devote to baking. The money she made wasn’t too bad, either. After Millie got her cut of the profits, Cilla was sitting pretty on more money per week than she would have made in tips.

Clearing the table and wiping it down, Cilla was too distracted to notice the man looming behind her. She yelped when a pair of thick, muscular arm wrapped around her.

“Hey! You scared the crap out of me,” she admonished, though she really didn’t mind now that her man was there, and she was in his arms. Over the last several months, Patriot and Frost had been up to their necks in sifting through the potential club transfers from some MC in New York. Frost, the prez, was taking on a lot more of the work than Patriot, and it was starting to show. Emily, the sweetheart, had come by the diner once or twice, and sat in Cilla’s section. The woman looked…lost, like she was rudderless in a stormy sea. Cilla knew something was going on between Emily and Frost, but Patriot kept reminding her that it wasn’t their business to get involved in the president’s personal life. Cilla hated that she couldn’t speak up, or even ask the woman if she wanted to talk, because Cilla knew that word could spread, and she’d end up on the wrong end of a glare from Frost and a sex ban from Patriot. Both were equally terrifying.

Dragging herself from her thoughts, she swatted at Patriot, annoyed and yet happy to see him.

He chuckled, the asshole. “Not sorry, babe. You looked so focused on cleaning up that ketchup spill, I thought you were adorable.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Adorable? No woman wants to be called adorable.”

He turned her around and smacked a kiss on her lips, grinning. “What about beautiful”—kiss—“gorgeous”—kiss—“sexy as fuck….”

With each kiss, she melted further into his embrace. He noticed, chuckling again.

“How much longer til you’re done?” he asked, lifting his gaze to look around the crowded diner.

“Tasha should be here soon,” she answered, knowing he wouldn’t like to hear that. In the beginning, she hadn’t either, not after what happened three months ago at the barbecue, when Jaime and Sasha’s betrayal came to light. Cilla hadn’t celebrated that she’d been right about Tasha, that she had been following her sister’s commands. Yeah, she was a bratty bitch, but she wasn’t naturally purposefully cruel. Tasha, after weeks of hiding from the club, appeared on Cilla’s doorstep one night. Curious and feeling sorry for the woman, who was actually wearing clothes, Cilla let her in…and let her talk.

What followed was a story that seemed right out of a Dateline special. Once Tasha opened up and explained why she did what she did, and why she let her sister lead her around by the ear, Cilla just could not be mad at her. Cilla forgave her, and…eventually, they formed a provisional friendship. Having been burned too many times before, Cilla was wary about trusting Tasha too much, and Tasha understood that. Over the last few weeks, Tasha had proven that she was someone Cilla could trust. She helped Tasha get a job at Millie’s, under the condition that she actually showed up to work, worked hard, and didn’t do anything Sasha or Jaime would do. Tasha had shown that she was a good worker, and she hadn’t disappointed Cilla or Millie yet.

Jaime was gone. And Cilla didn’t care to know where, she was just happy that the woman was no longer in her or Patriot’s life. She’d been a poison and a liability, and with her gone, there was a lighter vibe in the club—and it wasn’t just her who thought that. Patriot admitted that the brothers all commented on how much less shit they had to deal with now that Jaime and Sasha were gone. Marci still came around, but she seemed more timid, like the wind had been ripped from her sails. Kiki was still Kiki, but she was hanging around with a few new clubwhores that Tornado, Cluster, and Disco had brought in. Free of Sasha, Tornado was going through club women like he was trying to break his mattress. Redtube, the brother that gave Cilla goosebumps with a single look, had started to spend more time outside of his clubhouse room, which, according to Patriot, was a “goddamn miracle.” Locust and Nadia…well, something had happened there, but no one was talking, which meant it was “club business”. How a woman who had nothing to do with the club was considered “club business” Cilla didn’t know, but Patriot refused to say anything about it.

“What’s got you thinking so deeply over there?” Patriot’s voice broke through her thoughts, making her start. She blinked up at him, smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” she chirped. “I was thinking about all that’s happened in the last three months.”

He hummed, swaying them in place. Ugh, she loved it when he was so affectionate with her in public, out where everyone could see. He wasn’t ashamed of her, of loving her, and she basked in it.

“A lot of shit has happened, baby, but none of that matters. The only thing that matters is that I love you, you love me back, and we’re going to have the happiest happily ever after you’ve ever seen.”

Her heart thundering with joy and blistering happiness, Cilla laughed, smiling up at the man who made her soul sing.

“Happiest happily ever after, huh?” she teased, standing on her tip toes to kiss his jaw.

His eyes, so full of love, glowed as he promised, “The happiest.”

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