Page 33 of Mr. Kelly

Helena rips the papers in half, and I pull out another copy.

"Are you done being dramatic? Sign."

"I'm not being dramatic! I want what's due. I'll see you in court!"

"Helena!" I yell her name, but my phone ringing grabs my attention since it's Andrea’s ringtone. "What’s up?"

"My place. Ten minutes."

He hangs up, but it's okay; it's how we communicate over the phone. Briefly.

Helena is ranting, but I haven't heard anything she said.

"I'll be back. Sign the fucking papers."

I jog down the stairs and am driving to Andrea's within minutes. I nod at some of the men standing watch outside and walk into the house.

Hearing the piano, I follow the sound to the music room. It's where he goes to think, and since he's just tapping keys instead of playing a song, it means he's in deep thought.

Andrea is staring at the keys, his right hand hitting the notes while he takes a shot. He's still wearing his pants and suspenders with just a tank top. I know not to rush him in this state.

"Hey," I say to let him know I'm here, but I settle on the brown leather sofa near the piano.

"I don't know if you noticed, but every anniversary, I'd ask you why you love Helena. You had an entire speech the first year. A slightly shorter one the second, and once we made it to the sixth, you told me that you didn’t know, but that you just did." He laughs to himself and shakes his head. He starts playing notes again. "This song makes me think of you."

Andrea starts singing “Holy Grail.”I never paid attention to lyrics until now; it makes sense he’d feel it applies to me. Helena stress tested the hell out of my love for her. He sings it with so much emotion, I'd think someone was making him feel that way if I didn't know better. For a moment, I can forget that he spends his days running the city and taking out the men who get in his way. Right now, he’s a musical artist capable of selling out stadiums like he wanted to do when we were younger.

After he gets to the part where Jay-Z would start rapping, he picks up the remote and presses play on the radio. The song plays while he makes us drinks. I don’t say anything while Justin Timberlake sings the part Andrea just played on the piano.When he has a song in his head, you have to let it play out. He once shot one of his men for interrupting in the middle of one of his songs. He starts dancing when the beat drops, wrapped up in the song.

Andrea pulls one of his knives out of nowhere when Justin sings about pulling a blade out his heart, running it up his tattooed sleeve while singing along. He takes a deep breath when the song ends and looks at me.

“Better?” I tease.

He shrugs. “A little. Let’s get down to business.” He walks over to the little table near the piano and picks up a folder. “Remember when you and I went to Italy just after Helena’s thirty-fifth birthday?”

“Of course. It was a trip I’d planned for her, but she wanted to do something with her dancer friends.”

“The bitch said you were suffocating, and she wanted half of her six-week vacation to herself so people thought we were lovers.” He laughs at the last part. “They would talk about how much you love me.”

“I do, but not in that way,” I joke.

Andrea rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t afford to love me that way.” His smile drops as he sobers. I reach for the folder he’s offering. “The dates match.” I flip it open. At first glance, I can tell that they’re medical records. “I had to take a trip to Mexico but, it was worth it after some premium tequila and some chicas,” Andrea explains.

I read the notes out loud. “Helena Kelly, thirty-five yo female requesting a hysterectomy. Explained to the patient that, while she is the minimum age for such a procedure, there isn’t a medical reason to remove a normal uterus. Patient agreed to a tubal ligation.”

I stop reading. I’m incapable of speaking another word. Something red hot bursts inside of me, and it’s hard to flip tothe post-surgical notes because my hand is shaking too much. It really doesn’t take much to jump from love to hate.

I’d already believed my entire marriage was a lie, but this is the confirmation I didn’t want but needed. Helena has fucked me over, and while her lies weren’t okay, this is unforgivable. If I weren’t already done with her, I would be. I lean my head back for a moment because I’m almost dizzy from the sting of betrayal. The bitch did this to herself, then pretended to be barren. To think I’d felt sorry for her even for a second pisses me off further. Truly speechless, I jump up and run to the door.

Chapter Seventeen

THEODORE

I don’t knowhow I got back to the house. The trip was a blur. I park almost sideways in the driveway and storm to the door. It’s locked again. I bang on it once.

“Go away, Theo.”

Just the sound of her voice raises my ire until I feel like I could catch on fire. After two kicks, the door splinters, then I ram it with my shoulder. It flies open, putting one less obstacle between us. The loud thud of my boots on the wooden stairs echoes in the house, and I ascend quickly to confront the bane of my existence.

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