Page 17 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

“May I?” Steve asked, startling her again with how quietly he had crossed the library to stand next to her.

She eyed him warily. “You have kids?”

He shook his head. “Niblings.”

She smiled at the silly term for nieces and nephews. “You’re good with them?”

“I try to give my sister a break whenever I’m in town.”

Certain he couldn’t make things worse, she carefully handed over Jasper. “He’s going through a sleep regression, and my brother and sister-in-law are in Greece on their honeymoon. He’s struggling.”

“Poor little guy.” Steve cradled Jasper like a pro. His much larger hands covered almost all of her nephew, and he rocked in a slightly faster manner. She started to tell him to slow down, but to her surprise, Jasper quieted almost immediately. Whether it was Steve’s technique or the novelty of being held by a new person, she couldn’t tell.

“Okay, that’s amazing,” Dina finally remarked. Jasper stared up at Steve with his sleepy eyes, blinking slowly as Steve gently pressed the pacifier back to the baby’s mouth.

“Is that a compliment?” Steve wryly asked, pinning her with his boyish grin.

“Cherish it. I doubt I’ll have another for you any time soon.”

Steve laughed and rubbed Jasper’s back. After a moment, he said, “Your family is amazing.”

Taken aback by his statement, she gawked at him. “You just spent the whole afternoon and evening being screamed at by women in this family. You think that’s amazing?”

“No, not that part.” He shifted Jasper so the baby was resting against his shoulder and tucked into the crook of his neck. “The part where your family comes together anytime one of you is hurt or in trouble. Your brother came in from the coast as soon as he heard your daughter was missing. Your sister was with you every step of the way. Your oldest brother made himself available even though he’s on his honeymoon. Your mother—.”

“Blamed me for being too hard and yet somehow also too soft as a mother,” she muttered with irritation.

“She was afraid.” Steve patted Jasper’s diapered bottom. “She lost her son and daughter-in-law a few months ago. She saw her oldest son get shot. She had to face losing her granddaughter today. She panicked and said things she didn’t mean.”

“She meant them,” Dina glumly insisted. “She’s probably right. I’m very good at business, but with my family? In my personal life? All I do is make mistakes.”

“Present company included,” he drolly remarked.

“No,” she said hastily. “I mean—yes. But not really.”

Steve stared at her, bemused. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, the only mistake I made was letting you go without getting your phone number.”

Dina flushed at the memory of their torrid night. She glanced away from him, unable to make eye contact as her body reacted to that memory.

“Does she blame you?” Steve asked after a moment, his timbre low and soothing. “For what happened to your father and grandfather?”

Dina gulped at the question and kept her gaze fixed on the bookshelf across the room. She didn’t dare look at Steve. He had those detective eyes, the ones that could see right through any lie she might try to tell. Eventually, she admitted, “She says she doesn’t, but I know she does. She’s right to blame me. It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” Steve argued. “He’s a monster. You can’t control a monster.”

“She knew,” Dina said, still unable to meet his gaze. “The first time I brought him home to introduce him to my family,” she explained. “Mama knew that he was dangerous, and I wouldn’t listen.”

“You were a teenager. None of us listen to our parents when we’re teenagers.”

“I knew better when I married him.” It was a hard thing to admit, but somehow, it felt okay to tell Steve. “I realized he was a killer just after my high school graduation. He took me on a hit with him.” Her stomach lurched at the long-buried memory. “I was in the car, driving, and he went inside this little restaurant. I heard some popping sounds and then he came running out and jumped in the car. I was frozen. Scared. Terrified. And then he shoved the gun in my face.” She lifted her fingers to her head, mimicking the muzzle of the gun banging into her temple and cheek. “I panicked and floored it.”

“You did what anyone would do in that situation,” Steve gently said. “You were a victim.”

“I was an accessory,” she hissed with self-disgust. “I drove him there. I drove him away.” She swallowed the acidic bile rising in her throat at the memory of what came after that mad dash away from the crime scene. That was a story she wasn’t ready to tell anyone. “I stayed with him after that. Imarriedhim. I had a child a with him.”

“Did he hurt you?” Steve asked the question, but she was certain he already knew the answer.

She nodded stiffly. “Never my face. Not until after we were married, at least.”

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