“Yeah, and I know it’s going to be the kind of change that flips our entire life on its head, and I’m trying to figure out if I’m ready for that. I like our life. It’s good. It’s amazing. What if this screws everything up?”

“What does Simon say about it?” Delilah asked.

Charlie shook her head. “I haven’t told him any of this. I don’t know how. I don’t want him to think I’m not excited for a family, but I’m . . . I’m just worried.”

“You’ve gotta talk to him about it. He’s a man; he can’t read your mind.”

Again, all three female heads in the room swiveled around to face me. Even I was surprised to hear myself offer up the words.

Delilah offered a small smile to Charlie. “He’s right. You have to tell Simon what you’re thinking. That’s the only way you’re going to be able to figure out if right now is the time to do this.”

“I know. But he wants it so much, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I need to really think about it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s going to affect you both, so you both have to be ready.”

Charlie inhaled and released a deep breath before uncurling herself from the chair and standing. “Okay. I’m going to talk to him today.”

“Everything’s going to be fine. That man loves you like crazy.” Delilah hugged her tight. “Now, don’t be a stranger.”

Charlie hugged her back. “You know I won’t be.” Then she looked at Eden. “If you need a place to stay for longer than a couple days, let Delilah or Bishop know. My old landlady is crazy as hell, in the best way possible, but she’s got a place she keeps empty most of the time. It was exactly what I needed when I was new in town and trying to find my way. Something tells me you might need the same thing.”

THE WAY CHARLIE LOOKED AT me, studying my features, made my heart hammer.

I recognized her. She’d been on the front page of every newspaper in New York for a couple of months while the FBI was trying to track her down. But she hadn’t looked like this then—no tattoos and purple-and-red hair had made the front page. She was the privileged daughter of the biggest investment swindler to hit New York since Bernie Madoff.

Just knowing she was from the same city made me worry about being recognized. But I’d never been in the papers. We’d never crossed paths. It was impossible.

Still, Charlie’s offer made it seem like she saw too much.

“Thank you for the offer,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

She smiled at me again before she left the shop.

I had to be more careful. I couldn’t risk being identified. I was supposed to be laying low, and here I was acting like a tourist.

Dumb, Eden. Why do you have to be so dumb? Maybe because my life hadn’t exactly prepared me for this.

As soon as the door chimed behind her, Delilah turned her attention back to me.

“So, what are you going to do with yourself while you’re here?”

I knew what I wasn’t going to do—stay holed up in my hotel room and not get to experience anything. I could go back to New York and do plenty of nothing.

The thought hung in my head like a punishment. Why would I want to go back to that?

Then my next thought. It’s not like Dom would give me a choice.

Realizing I’d let the silence go too long without answering, I met Delilah’s gaze. “I think I’d just like to do some living.” It was as honest of an answer as I could give.

“Well, sugar, I think you’ve come to the right place for that. Between me and Bishop, we can show you almost everything this city has to offer.”

Bishop didn’t offer his support for her suggestion, and I filled the awkward silence that followed.

“That’s okay. I’m sure I can figure it out. I’ve got a list. My plan is to work my way through it.”

“A list? How very organized of you. Do tell.”

Bishop pulled out his cell phone and frowned down at it. He turned and walked down the back hallway without a word.

Delilah and I both watched him go before she turned back to me.

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve got your sights set on the big guy, but he’s tough to read. I’ve never seen him react to someone the way he did with you, so I have no idea what to make of that. I probably shouldn’t interfere, but . . . that’s kind of what I do. So, you want the scoop?”

Do I? I almost snorted at my own stupid mental question. Of course I do.

I BREATHED IN STALE SMOKE until it clogged my lungs as the pain from my broken ribs threatened to take me to my knees again. I’d crawled all the way from the alley, where they’d left me broken, to find everything that mattered to me had been burned away.

Rage filled my veins as I vowed revenge.

I jerked awake from the nightmare, sweat coating my skin, sheets sticking to my body, and my lungs heaving for breath. It had been months since it had ripped me out of sleep and tossed me into a past I couldn’t run far enough from to forget.

I sat up in bed for a few minutes, letting my racing heart calm down enough to assure myself I wasn’t having a heart attack, before accepting that there was no way in hell I was getting any more sleep tonight.

After splashing my face with water, I stared into the mirror. The long hair, the beard, the tattoos. Behind them was the punk kid who’d thought he knew how to fix everything and hadn’t considered what his actions could cost him.

Everything.

Whiskey. That was the only thing that would drive the smell of the smoke from my nose and chase the memories away. I stumbled into my kitchen for the bottle on top of the fridge, but as soon as my hand wrapped around it, I couldn’t stomach the thought of sitting at my table drinking alone.

Too much silence to dwell on the past. I needed noise. People. Not to interact, but to distract.

I headed back to the bedroom to grab a pair of jeans off the floor. I shoved my legs into them before reaching around in the darkness to find the nearest shirt.

After I dragged my boots on, I tied my hair up into a knot at the back of my head and shoved a knife in my pocket. Old habits die hard, even though most people would think twice about fucking with a tatted-up guy my size. But then again, tweakers and drunks didn’t always care.