Page 43 of The More the Merrier

This is not what I was expecting at all.

The refined, badass gangster is adorably besotted with his wife. So much so that I almost can’t take him seriously. Almost. With just one cutting glare sent my way, I’m reminded exactly why I was scared stupid when I heard I had to come up here.

His wife, though? She’s as cute as a button and even more South African than Johannes. Five minutes in her company and I already know she moved to London after her parents died to be raised by her grandma. After her gran passed, she was forced to work at Andre’s strip club to make ends meet, where she caught his eye and they fell in love instantly.

Her long purple hair is absolutely to die for and when I expressed my admiration, she offered to ‘hook me up’ with her hairdresser friend who could do it at a great price.

“Dollface, I don’t know why you insist on going to that back alley place when you can go to the best places now,” Andre says to Amanda, his smile indulgent as he looks at her.

“Handsome, because she was there for me when I couldn’t afford any better, why on earth would I desert her now?” And in one sentence she has a new friend for life.

He doesn’t respond, merely rolls his eyes, which gives me the idea that the two of them have this discussion often. My face splits into a grin at their interaction and Johannes—standing in the back corner of the large sunken lounge—smiles back at me. I’m momentarily blinded by the sheer brilliance.

Andre clears his throat and I quickly bring my attention back to him, surprised when I find confusion instead of annoyance in his gaze.

“Ms. Standish, Johannes has given me a brief rundown of why exactly you broke into my house last night and what his plan is going forward. But I’d like to hear from you.”

I swallow down my fear, knowing this man might be scary, but he has never hurt a woman. The worst he’d do is turn me over to the police, and although that would suck monkey balls, I’d still be alive and unharmed.

“It’s kind of a long story, if you want it all.”

“I have nothing but time today. Carry on, Ms. Standish.”

“My bio parents were burglars. Not great at it, but not completely shit either, you know? They were plenty proud of the fact that they never stole from anyone less fortunate than them, and that they never ever hurt anyone while on a job.”

This part of the story is easy to tell, it’s something I’ve shared with people on many occasions, but it’s still nothing I’m overly fond of having out in the open. I can’t quite look either Amanda or Andre in the eyes as I share my history with them, so instead, I face Johannes. His expression isn’t quite neutral, but there’s none of the pity I’ve grown accustomed to.

“I was probably around seven when they started teaching me how to help them. Small things at first, but then once they were sure I had the hang of it, they’d send me in, because I was so tiny. They’d case the place, always showing me how and what to look out for. Once they were sure of all the little details, they’d talk me through the actual break-in. I was nine when I cracked my first safe. A prodigy, my dad called me.”

At this, I shrug and hazard a glance at Andre and his wife. The cold, unfeeling look is gone from Andre’s face and the tenderness in the younger woman's face is nearly my undoing. I quickly look back at Johannes, the acceptance there helping me carry on.

“On my twelfth birthday they had a big heist planned. But I was just heading into that awkward teenage phase and threw the biggest fit. I didn’t want to do a job on my birthday. They were a little disappointed, but ultimately they were great parents and they left me at home. Mum was small, too, so she could fit in the tight places in a pinch.

“They were on their way home when they crashed. Both of them died instantly. I was taken to a home. It was tough. Lots of bullying, and they don’t like to advertise it, but the food isn’t great, nor very nourishing. These places run on limited funds. There’s never anything for birthdays or holidays, and there’s nothing else for these kids to do, except go to Rainbow Haven after school. They do their best to help with homework, they provide access to computers, and they have stuff like dance and art classes.”

Talking about Rainbow Haven has some of the weight sitting on my chest lifting gradually. Even now, years later, everything just feels better whenever I’m there with the kids.. I’m still staring at Johannes, unable to face Andre and Amanda as I come up to the next part of my story.

“I was there for two years. They kept me sane. And through them, I met my new parents. Mary and William Standish. They were volunteers, and over the two years that I spent time there, I got to know them. I grew to love them, and lucky for me, the feeling was mutual. They’d already been through the process to get registered as foster carers and they then applied to be my guardians.

“Living with them was like being in heaven. It wasn’t perfect, we had our fights, but never, not for a second, did I ever feel unloved or unwanted.”

I wipe at a tear running down my cheek and when I blink, Johannes is crouched in front of me. I don’t know how that man moved so quickly, but his hand is resting on my knee.

“You can take a break.”

“Johannes–” Andre tries to say, but Johannes looks back at him, and Andre merely lifts an eyebrow and holds up his hands.

When he looks back at me, the tenderness on his face is almost my undoing. I take his hand in mine and pat the settee next to me.

“It’s fine, big guy, I can carry on. It’s almost done, anyway,” I say, looking at him before turning my gaze toward the two people in front of me. Andre is frowning and Amanda is staring at Johannes with an odd look. Opting to stare at my hands instead, I carry on with the last part.

“They died a few years ago. They were old when they took me in, and even though I didn’t know it at the time, Dad was sick. He went first. It was hard to watch, but not as hard as watching Mum go after him.” The tears are flowing freely now, Johannes’s hand in mine is keeping me grounded. “The doctors said she was suffering from heart failure long before he got sick. I think she died of a broken heart.”

“What did they do, honey? If they weren’t volunteering?” Amanda asks, but before I can answer Andre speaks up.

“William Standish, you said? Of Standish Industries?”

“Uh, yeah,” I respond.

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