Page 101 of Tortured Eyes
That’s not going to work. I look at the house, wondering how much attitude he’ll throw at me if I up and leave in the small amount of time we share. “Not that I would because I know he has a job to do and you two don’t see much of each other, but if I needed you, you’d be there for me?”
Yes. I guess. Fuck, this is confusing. “As much as you need me.”
“How often?”
“What?”
“How often will we meet? And is going out involved? Dinner, a movie?”
“You want dates, too?”
“If I’m going to consider this. With Samuel involved with you, I don’t want to have to hide away like you have to with him. Dates are normal. Going for food, spending time together.”
“Like romance?”
“If that’s what you want to call it. Like you said, you might be damn good at it."
“Alright. But in Chicago. It’s safer there. Unless I can keep you under lock and key, which I’m thinking is a definite no on your part.” Vico managed that with Fia, though. Possible. I chuckle,amused at the thought of trying.
"Hard no. And I didn’t think Chicago was your home anymore? And, on that note, you’re still going to continue being who you are? The crime stuff?”
“Can’t be anyone else, Red. I’ve got a couple of cities to keep in check. Deals. Life. I am exactly who I am, and it’s not changing.” I move closer, getting irritated with all the questions, my patience wearing thin.
"Okay. And what about marriage and kids?"
My feet stop. "What?"
She bursts out laughing, her arms clutched around her body as she damn near keels over in hysterics. It carries on, to the point where I start questioning why me being either a husband or father is so goddamn amusing. I straighten my back, a slight sneer on my face. I could do that. If I chose to. Maybe. One day.
"Your face. Hilarious," she chuckles out, pulling upright. "Oh, my God. You should've seen it. You looked scared as fuck."
"You think me being a father is funny?" I bite, frowning.
"Yes. Can you imagine it, you and me, as parents?" Well, now she's made me think about it. Yes. "I mean, how the hell would that work? Me bringing you slippers after you've had a hard day killing people. Kids wanting lullabies on your knee?"
I look out to the sea, pissed all of a sudden. She thinks I'm not serious enough. Or maybe too serious. If anyone knows what being a good father should be, it's me. I have my own father's ways to thank for that.
"What's the matter with you?" she asks, coming up behind me. I don't answer. That's a serious matter she's just brought up, something I hadn't thought about until this moment.
Her hand drops onto my shoulder, pressure trying to make me turn. I stand firm. "Logan?"
"I might want kids one day."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Right. I didn't think… I guess we've got a lot to learn about each other." That's enough to make me look at her again, enjoying the feel of her hands sliding down my frame and around to my stomach. "Talking to do."
"And fucking?"
"Maybe," she says with a coy smile.
"Nicely?"
"Sometimes. I quite like the aggressive version, though." Those fingers of hers start travelling around to my back, her nails digging in to pull me closer.
"I might get you pregnant out of spite."
