“I don’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself, do I, Win?” the captain asks, who knows me personally from coming into my restaurant with his own family at least once a week.
I shake my head. “I won’t do anything that would potentially keep me from my boy. And not even for murder for hire would I hit a woman.”
He nods, then opens the door.
The moment I walk in and she sees me, the color drains from her face and she looks ready to puke. “You….”
“Yeah, I’m alive.” I glare, my nostrils flaring in revulsion as she tries to stand up and walk toward me. “I wish I could say I’m surprised by your latest selfish act of desperation, but I’m not. I should also let you know, not that you give a fuck, that our son is okay.” My blood boils when she doesn’t even look a bit ashamed for not having asked once about Nick while she’s been here for hours, even after learning his father was supposedly shot in the same house where he was sleeping.
I turn for the door, then stop when she screams my name.
“Winston, stop! Please, I’m sorry!”
I don’t even dignify that by looking back at her. “Tell it to the judge, and I’ll get the divorce papers to your lawyer.” Since I’m sure she hadn’t bothered signing the copy that was served to her the other night, deciding to go looking for a hitman instead.
“With Ace’s video evidence, Harry admitting to his part, and the bank records where Corina withdrew enough money to pay for the hit, the case against both of them is solid,” the captain tells Cobi and me a minute later, and I feel all the tension leave my body, leaving only one thought in my head.
Time to go get my girl.
34
Cece
The doorbell rings, and my stomach automatically fills with dread. The last time I answered the door of my home, it was to learn there was a hit out on me and my entire family. But this time as I look through the peephole, the dread disappears and is replaced by butterflies, because standing on my front porch, unexpectedly, is Winston.
I yank open the door, a smile covering my face, because there’s only one reason he could possibly be here.
This whole ordeal is finally over.
There’s a second in which all we do is stare, taking each other in, and then I’m in his arms, mine wrapping around his neck as he lifts me off the floor and spins me around on the front porch. He holds me tight, as if he’ll never let go, and in this moment I realize he won’t ever have to again.
“It’s all over, naekkeo. She signed the divorce papers thirty minutes ago. I’m free. Finally fucking free,” he breathes into my neck, and I hear the relief in his tone.
Before I can say anything, I hear a giggle behind me, and it’s not until that moment I remember I wasn’t alone at home. “Mommy?”
I stiffen in Winston’s arms, and he sets me on my feet. I turn, placing a smile on my lips even though I’m totally caught off guard. Win keeps his arm around my waist, and while a part of me thinks I should put distance between us for this introduction, I remember how Mike introduced the girls to his girlfriend without talking about it with me, and they reacted like it was no big deal.
So keeping in mind that they’re going to feed off my energy for this monumental—at least in my mind—event, I keep my tone light and smile wider.
“Ruby, baby. I’d like you to meet Winston. He’s my… my…” I turn wide eyes to Win, not knowing what to say, but apparently my panic is for nothing.
“Is he your boooyfriend?” she drawls with a snicker, wagging her eyebrows, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“I—”
“That’s a very good question, Ruby,” Winston cuts me off, pulling me tighter to his side. “What do you say, Cece? Wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks, and I see my daughter grin so hard it looks like her face is going to split before I glance up into Winston’s mischievous smile.
Before I can answer, Ruby speaks up again. “Wait. Winston? Isn’t he the one who always cooks us all that yummy dinner you bring home, Mommy?”
I look back down at her. “It is.” I nod.
Ruby nods vigorously. “Then yes. I don’t care what she says, Mr. Winston. She’s your girlfriend if it means you’ll keep cooking for us.”
I let out a squeak of a laugh, my face incredulous, as Win chuckles beside me.
“But only if you make that spaghetti again soon. You haven’t sent that in a while, and it’s my favorite,” she adds, tapping her chin with her pointer finger.