Page 37 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“People fear you, what’s the difference?” He snarls, the light dimming from his eyes as rage fills him again.
I tilt my head to the left, narrowing my eyes at my son. “Have you misread me so much? You don’t use fear to control the ones you love, Luca. Ever. Enemies like Bianchi. People fear you by the choices you make. Running a city is different than having a partner cower by your hand. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” he mumbles. “I just… I get so angry. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stop it.”
I clap him on the back of the neck, forcing him to meet my eyes. “Yes, you will. You can. I’ll help you. You aren’t alone in this.”
“I should apologize to Jovie again. For all the times I lost my temper with her.”
I grip him by his shirt; the first physical act of violence he has ever gotten from me. I yank him close, my own anger consuming me. “Did you hit her?”
He is quick to shake his head. “No, no, I didn’t. I haven’t ever. Never raised a hand to her. I promise.”
I let out a breath, releasing his shirt, then crack my neck. I grip my leg to stop him from seeing my hand tremble. There is a lot I tolerate. I am a murderer. I abuse people every single fucking day, but violence against woman? It’s the quickest way to get a toe tag from me. If I ever find out any man, friend, or foe, hurts a woman, they will die by my hand.
Son or not.
“You’ll see a side of me you’ll hate if I ever found out you raised your hand to a woman, do you understand me?”
“I’d want you to,” he admits. “I’d deserve it.”
“You would.” My phone vibrates again, and I hate that I’ve kept my secret admirer waiting. “Go get the broom and some towels. You’re cleaning this mess up.”
“Yes, Sir.” Luca doesn’t argue with me. He rushes out of the door, leaving me to stare at the shattered mess of the vase.
I’m starting to think the vase is an allegory for my life.
So many broken pieces and not enough time to put them back together.
11
JOVIE
I stareat the picture of the broken vase that Santino sent me, grinning in my flower shop as I wait Marlowe to come knock so we can go to our weekly girl dinner together. We always try totrya new restaurant. It’s by far one of my favorite nights of the week.
Santino: “ : (. I loved that vase.”
Me: “I might be able to get you another one.”
Santino: “There’s something else I want more.”
Me: “And what would that be?”
Santino: “I think you know.”
Me: “Maybe spell it out for me.”
A knock on the glass makes me jump. When I turn to see Marlowe waving at me through the door, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“You scared me!” I shout so she can hear me.
“Who else would it be?” She applies more black lipstick, using her reflection off the window as a mirror. “Are you ready?”
The doorbell jingles when I swing the door open. “So ready. I need a drink.” I lock the door then set the security system from the app on my phone.
“Same. So many people came into my cat café today asking to sit in a section where no cats were allowed because they were allergic.” She rolls her dramatic black lined eyes at me. “Why come into a damn cat café if you’re allergic to cats? It makes no sense.”
“What did you tell them?” I loop my arm in hers as we start walking down the sidewalk. The restaurant we’re going to is only a few blocks away. It’s one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in the state. We’ve been saving up for this one since it’s eight courses.
