Page 8 of Big Filthy Mobster

“I’ve always got time for my father-in-law,” he quips, the smirk evident in his voice even over the phone.

“Don’t make me vomit. Never say that again. See you in thirty.” With that I hang up. Asshole.

Forty-five minutes later, because of course the fucker has to be late, we’re standing in line to get our coffees.

“So,” Maxwell finally prompts when we get our coffees and find a table to sit at, “how’re things with Holly?”

I’d updated him briefly about her when I picked the two of them up from the airport. Jeannie was supportive of me dating after all of these years which was a kind of relief off of my shoulders. But, Maxwell had at first just spent the entire time joking about how the apple doesn’t fall far considering father and daughter are dating outside of their age.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say as I take a sip from my cup.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve traumatized my employee,” he jokes to which I just roll my eyes.

“No, nothing like that,” I assure him. Then, I sigh and say, “It’s just…”

I’m having a hard time putting it into words. How do I explain that even nearly two decades later, I still worry about what my deceased wife thinks?

“I guess I can see you feeling weird about it because of Delilah,” Maxwell muses, apparently sensing my unease. Being friends with someone for most of your life will do that. “But it’s not like Holly’s some kind of rebound. If you haven’t told her about what happened yet, you need to. Otherwise, you’re going to have trouble honoring her and it’s just going to make you distant from Holly.”

I hum, picking up my cup and taking a drink while I maintain eye contact. Then, I admit, “You do have a point. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about that yet.”

“Well, you need to make a chance,” he states bluntly. “This is the first person I’ve seen you serious about since Delilah passed. I don’t want you to piss it away because you’re hesitating about things that aren’t really a big deal. I don’t think she’d want you to, either.”

“You’re really getting on my nerves,” I say without any heat.

“You’re just upset that I know what I’m talking about,” he replies with his irritating smile plastered on his face again.

“I can’t believe I called you for advice,” I sigh.

“You called because you know I’m not going to bullshit you,” After draining half of his cup, he asks, “Does she know about your line of work?”

“Not yet,” I admit, averting my gaze and scanning the shop to make sure there’s no one listening. “I didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up on a first date in a public place.”

“Fair,” he concedes, tapping his fingers against the table. “But you need to tell her sooner rather than later. She needs to knowwhat she’s getting into. Those ties aren’t something you can just shake off. If she’s with you, she’s going to get exposed to that stuff whether you want her to or not. Even Jeannie’s been exposed to it now.”

“And I did such a good job keeping it away from her,” I lament.

“Which was a stupid decision, honestly. No one’s off limits when it comes to those guys. You can pretend you were keeping your daughter safe, but if anything were to happen, she’d have been fucked.”

I roll my eyes, stamping down the irritation I feel. We’ve had this conversation before, and there’s no reason to have it again. That isn’t what we’re here for.

“Anyway, Jeannie really never had an option about being involved in this stuff,” Maxwell continues. “Holly does. You should let her make that decision for herself before things get too serious between you two. It wouldn’t be right if you string her along and then spring something as serious as that on her when it’s too late for her to back out.”

I groan, and Maxwell cuts me off with a click of her tongue.

“Look man,” he says without patience, “if she’s really the girl you want, her age doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re upfront with her about what’s going on with your life. She isn’t the complicated one here, you are.”

“Fine,” I answer after a few tense moments. He’s right, like he always is. I’ve just always overthought everything.

“This was a good talk,” he tells me before downing the rest of his coffee and rising from his seat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with one of our associates at the casino in an hour and I’d like some time to myself before then.”

“You didn’t have to drop everything to come meet with me,” I remind him.

“I think I did, though,” he singsongs, his tone smug. “You’re hopeless without me, really.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make you regret it,” I say, glowering at him.

“Whatever, Patrick,” he replies, tossing a few dollars on the table to tip whoever’s going to have to clean up after us. “Think about what I said. Make the right choice here. I want you to be happy.”