Page 114 of Working for the Mob

“She deserves a fucking saint. Not some mob lackey,” I said, and bristled once I realized I just admitted he was right. I had walked right into his trap.

“She deserves a man who loves her and treats her with respect,” Lance said.

“She deserves someone who doesn’t put her in danger,” I said, and Lance shook his head.

“Genevieve’s a grown woman. She can make her own decision about who she dates. The problem is you. You’ve got to forgive yourself in order to feel like you deserve her.”

“God, you’re stupider sober than you are drunk.”

“Who said I’m sober?” he asked, and his cocky grin returned for the first time this Sunday morning.

A knock at the door drew both of our attention to the front of the café. It was a sight that almost brought me out of the pity fest.

“I didn’t know Jamie was getting out of the hospital today,” Lance said.

Jamie stood with a walker and his wife supporting him under one arm.

Lance went to let them in, but I wasn’t going to let my brother steal my thunder in my own café. I hopped the counter and beat Lance to the door to let both Jamie and Cissy into the café.

“Come here,” I said, and brought Jamie into a hug. All of his weight shifted to me and I realized how much Cissy had been supporting him. “Let’s get you to a chair.”

I led him to a table and sat next to him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Me neither,” Jamie said, surveying the room. “We were driving by and I saw the light was on. Wanted to stop by and say hi.”

“He wanted to make sure you didn’t take down all his pictures,” Cissy said with a grin.

“But I see a few things have changed,” Jamie said, and I followed his gaze to the display case.

“That was Mr. Baker’s idea,” I said. “Sales have gone up ten percent.”

Jamie shook his head in wonder. “Did she finally get that contraption working?”

“The espresso machine? Mr. Baker got it working. I can make you a cup, but I can’t make one as good as Genevieve,” I said, and went to brew him a cappuccino. My heart skipped a beat after the casual mention of her name, and I could have let us pass unnoticed if Cissy didn’t piggyback off my comment.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said to Jamie. “I gave Genevieve a ride to the train station this morning.”

I looked up so fast, my neck almost cricked.

“Where was she going?” I demanded.

Cissy and Jamie exchanged a startled look, but I ignored it. After a few heartbeats of glaring, she put it together that I was serious. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Um … I think she said the city,” Cissy said. “Going home to see her parents.”

Shit. That could mean she wasn’t coming back.

“Fine,” I said, and continued to make Jamie his drink while the McKnowltons talked to Lance about their stay in the hospital.

It was my fault Genevieve was going home. I forced her to do it. But it was better this way. No one would target her alone in the city. It’d even look like we’d broken up––which we hadn’t. We were never dating in the first place.

And Lance was out of line for accusing me of not forgiving myself. If anyone needed forgiving, it was him. He saw the citizens of East and West Lannington like chess pieces on a board as opposed to real people with lives and families.

He didn’t feel the responsibility to keep everyone healthy and happy like I did. I …

The back door slammed open and hurried steps thundered to the front. My free hand reflexively reached for my revolver, but it sat on the other end of the counter. Lance stooped lower in his seat and we kept our eyes glued to the door for two scared seconds until Henry dashed in.

The tension in my muscles disappeared and a grin broke out on my face. “Geez, Henry. You nearly scared the shit––”

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