Page 62 of The Secrets We Share

“The only time I ever see you this unsettled is when my head’s between your thighs teasing your delicious cunt.”

“Harkin!” I admonish, looking around the office for the camera.

“Just trying to break some of the tension.” He laughs.

Before I can scold him for hishelp,the office door opens, and a plump older gentleman in a traditional white lab coat steps in. “Ms. Fitzpatrick, I apologize for running a bit behind. I hopeyou haven’t been waiting too long. Can I get you something to drink?” he asks, pointing at the small fridge beside his desk.

“No, thank you.”

“Alright. Let’s get down to business then, shall we?” he asks, sitting behind his well-organized desk.

We go over the surgery that will have me under anesthesia, the risks to me, and the benefits it could mean for my niece. He’s familiar with her case, and shockingly, Alina has permitted him to discuss her prognosis with us. I ask the obnoxiously long list of questions I’ve had saved in my phone for weeks, which includes how quickly I’ll feel like myself again. After signing some paperwork and looking at his calendar, we schedule the procedure for two weeks from today.

“Do you feel better now?”Harkin asks as we sit down at the restaurant for a late lunch.

“About the surgery, yes. I just wish Domenico would reach out and let us know when the damn meeting is supposed to be. Patrick told us he already set it, so what’s taking him so long?”

“Maybe he’s keeping you out of it?”

I shoot daggers in his direction. We both know that won’t be the case. Plus, now that I’ve met Patrick, I’m more curious to see how he reacts when introduced to his granddaughters. Will he let on that we’re already acquainted, or will he play it calm and collected?

The server halts our conversation to take our orders. The restaurant is quiet, with only a handful of patrons taking up booths around the ample space. When she retreats toward the kitchen, I continue.

“Patrick was tight-lipped about the whole meeting but wouldn’t shut up when it came to my mom. That man gave me whiplash.”

“I suspect he was trying to gain your confidence and see if you knew anything about Domenico. Maybe suss out if you were spying for him.”

“How wrong he’d be, then.”

Our food arrives, and I take advantage of the distraction. I let my mind wander, wondering why these men don’t handle their shit head-on. Why all the games and back and forth, using women to gain a foothold? Then again, they’re kings of their own making, fighting over pieces on the map. Maybe using women is right on the mark, after all.

“You know, there was something you said during the meeting that I haven’t been able to get out of my head,” he says, breaking through my haze.

“What was it?”

“That you don’t want kids.”

His statement catches me off guard. The subject of kids has never come up between us, other than the possibility that he may have had one with mylovelysister. I choke on my half-swallowed bite of salad.

“Uhh, yeah. I mean, I can’t imagine having kids. A year ago, I was living in a shitty apartment, working a dead-end job, stalking a man I’d been watching online for so long I’d fallen in love with him, and that was bad enough. Now, well, shit. Life’s even more fucked up and messy. I’m nowhere near happy, healthy, or stable enough to bring a child into this world. Especially when there’s a possibility I could end up as my mother did.”

Harkin’s fork clatters loudly onto his plate. “What happened to your mother willneverhappen to you. Do you understand me?”

My eyes soften at his declaration. “You don’t know that. The world is a cruel and unforgiving place. We can only do our best to survive against the odds. What right do I have bringing a child into it?”

The air around him shifts as he watches me intently, taking in the sentiment of what I’ve just said. It seems this topic isn’t as cut and dry for Harkin as it is for me. He’s never once let on that kids between us was something on his mind.

He’s enough for me, but does he feel the same?

My phone vibrates, startling me from my morose question. Pulling it free from my back pocket, I don’t recognize the number but answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello, mio cuore.”

“Domenico.”

“Are you ready to earn your boyfriend’s father’s freedom?”

---