The Carrero Contract - Selling Your Soul (Mafia Romance) novel Chapter 184

It’s not the expected outcome; grown woman turning to childish puppy dog mush, pawing at her angry husband like a devious minx; I find myself eye rolling at the lamest form of female manipulation there is.

“You knew? You met her?” Accusatory tone as she tries to regain some footing. Alexi sighs loudly and I glance his way to see him turn and butt himself against the table, throwing me an unreadable look before he downs another drink and I try not to count how many that is. By the look of his sudden lack of trying, I guess he has been prone to scenes like this before, where his father had to steamroll in to defend him, and Alexi mentally goes off on a cruise and leaves him to it. I just stand here like an idiot, a third wheel and in no way wanting to witness this shit.

“He’s my son. He has no secrets from me, he never did. Unlike you, he confides in me and comes to me often!” It’s putting her in her place and any other mother might feel a little appalled, maybe some guilt over that, but not her.

“He’s broken my heart and ruined my dreams of a big white wedding for him. A nice Italian girl with morals and a beautiful future with angelic babies. It’s all ruined … how can I explain her to my friends?” She sobs unconvincingly, trying to claw back some of her stance in the eyes of her master. I have to curb the urge to mutter ‘Oh, give over’ in a sarcastic knee-jerk response.

“Pretty sure the only thing I ruined is your ability to tell your friends your son is married to a notable, worthy female from the church community. Beyond that, my relationship with Cam is none of your business and her past is nobody’s but ours.” Alexi snarls her way sarcastically, and I have to stop the giggle that threatens to break free at his obvious true statement. He catches my eye and I get a tiny little hint of warmth in the look. I badly want to go over and curl up in his arm, but I have a feeling that might make her mentally snap. I stand my ground instead.

“You have no idea what you have done!” The little sweet and broken act snaps nastily, and her outburst at her son erupts like a speeding bullet once more. The woman is positively nuts. Spitting accusations at him for ruining her fake as fuck life, she clearly has a screw loose and forgets her family is the fucking Mafia.

“ENOUGH!!” Alexi’s father slams his hand on the nearby desk to where he is standing, almost between them, eliciting another jump from me and literally kills the last of my nerves. These people have me all kinds of a nervous wreck and I need a drink as much as Alexi does. This has gone so much worse than I thought it would, by a long shot. I’m visibly trembling while my innards vibrate so heavily, I almost chip my teeth. I’m sweaty, clammy, breathless and obsessively glancing at Lexi for a signal as to what I should do, but he’s too preoccupied with holding a glass of booze and trying to focus on that instead.

He’s out of his depth. Mr in control, who knows how to handle most situations, doesn’t know what to do here and I get the feeling he’s lost in his own head struggling to hold on to that famous rage. He’s battling himself from not crossing a boundary concerning his mother while his brain wants to defend me in the way I know he does. He’s simmering and the waves of rage and energy bounding this way do not bode well. I think I’m the one who needs to get him out into the air for a little respite. If he stays here, he may consume half the bar and then beat his mother around the head with an empty gin bottle.

Not that it would be a bad thing.

“Alexi. Take your wife and go join the family in the greenhouse until I come down. I need to speak to your mother upstairs, alone.” It’s a sane, controlled, cool tone, completely loaded with intimidation, I recognise only too well. Guess he too realises his son is fighting a losing battle with himself and can sense he needs space. He loves and knows his son well, and I throw him a warm smile to communicate my agreement.

I obediently walk to him and coax him gently to take my hand and follow me. I slide the glass away from him and lay it down, knowing he has already consumed too much, and he needs to stop.

He doesn’t argue, falls into obedience like a child being commanded by a parent and I get to see my sweet little boy in the depths, glad someone else is taking control. He just nods, pats his father on the shoulder as we pass him and follows me out of that room silently. My heart is hammering through my chest and Alexi’s tight grip on my fingers translates just how riled up he really is, even though he isn’t showing it dramatically. I can feel it oozing off him in waves because I’m tuned into it.

When we get out the first door, he walks ahead of me taking control and leading the way. Finding his head, I guess and reverting to commander of all things. He says nothing.

I wait until he leads me through an airy sitting room to a set of huge glass patio doors and out into a massive, gorgeous garden before I break the silence.

At the far end of a huge lawn, I see people milling around an open glass building that is keeping them warm in this cooler weather, sets of tables and lots of children running in the manicured grounds with various garden toys, balls and hoops. Looking a lot like a picture postcard for rich happy families on this unusually bright day.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. Are you really mad at me?” I whisper meekly as we fall into a slow casual step to make our way across the garden. Looking up at that face and worrying that we are heading for an almighty fight ourselves, but Alexi just blows out some air and grimaces, shaking his head and fixing a look on me that translates frustration and simmering anger that he is trying to expel.

“No baby. You reacted exactly as you always do. One of the reasons I love you is that sassy mouth and take no shit attitude. I’m amazed my mother didn’t choke to death swallowing that mouthful you threw at her. Fuck her. She deserved that and more for what she said about you.” He leans into me to throw a quick kiss my lips, almost tripping me up in the process and removes his hand from mine to lasso an arm around me instead. Pulling me in against him and hugging me in a way that tells me he needs it. My touch is a balm for him and he’s aching all over from that ugly scene. I can’t imagine how emotionally traumatic that was for him and the aggressive nature in which he squeezes me tells me he is far from getting it out yet. He’s wound up, inwardly agitated.

“To be fair, I only got the English bits, but I can imagine it was along the same lines of what she did let me understand.”

“Yeah, common, cheap, whore, unworthy, foreigner, gold digger, manipulating devious tramp … you get the gist.” He frowns and throws a dark look over his shoulder back at the house, anger obviously stirring in the pits of that mind, but I’m piqued by one word.

“Cheap? Fucking cheap? Are you kidding me? This dress probably cost more than her entire fucking outfit. I have expensive tastes and a lot of class. How dare she call me fucking cheap. Goddamn bitch!” My free hand goes to my hip with attitude, stopping us mid-walk to pout and rage over that tiny detail, and Alexi bursts out laughing. Unexpectedly cute and it seems to even surprise him.

“In all that, cheap is the only one which bothers you?” He looks at me like I’ve lost the plot, slowly losing the heavy weight from his shoulders, and that furrowed brow straightens out to a happier expression.

“Well, I can’t really argue with the rest, can I? I mean common …” I tick it off on one finger with my other hand.

“Whore. Unworthy. Foreigner—sort of. Gold digger … well, it was my original intention many moons ago, and I have been known to exploit a few rich men. Manipulating devious tramp sounds like a pretty accurate summary of my skills. Tick, tick, tick.” I motion and wave my fingers around and he just shakes his head at me again, a smile widening across his face before he pulls me back to him and wraps his arms around my waist so we’re facing each other. Snuggling me close, bringing him back out of orbit so easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. None of them applies to my wife. She’s a perfect angel who can do no wrong in my eyes.” Humour and affection are back, and the tension finally seems to leave his body in one fell swoop. Nosing me with his and getting all smoochy and sweet, a massive turnaround to moments ago, and I realise that maybe I’m the stress reliever for him nowadays. All tied up in one package. Sex, love, tenderness. Everything he needs to let off steam rapidly.

He kisses me firmly for a few seconds and I can sense the last traces of his anger ebbing away through me. The way he tightens his hold and kisses me chastely but with intent and inhales my perfume before letting me loose again. Almost like an exhale to let it all go.

The worst is over. She knows; there was drama and now it’s done. Anything else, well, can’t be worse than that, and we can leave now his father knows.

“Hmm. Now I know you’re talking shit.” I press him on the nose in a little bop way with my finger and curl up in his arm when he turns me so we can walk again. Heading to that little picture-perfect group of people who haven’t noticed us yet and are oblivious to what just went down.

I can see Alessandra in the distance dressed in a very conservative summer dress for her, toned-down hair and makeup, looking very Stepford wife. Seems like impressing Mother Carrero is the aim of the game and all I can see is people dressed in Sunday best, looking groomed and proper while I’m rocking up in slutty shoes and a tight dress that leaves very little about my body shape to the imagination. Its only redeeming quality is that it’s knee-length and high cut across my bust.

I guess it’s why she so quickly picked up what a dirty, unworthy slut I was.

Walking on grass is killing my shoes though and I stop to kick them off when Alexi’s cell phone starts ringing. He too stops to hold my arm and give me balance while he answers it, waiting patiently for me.

“What’s up Mico?” He listens quietly, nodding for what seems like an age while I pick up my shoes, feet sinking into the cool grassy surface rather deliciously and dangle them in one hand by the back of the trademark red heels.

“Tomorrow morning, what time?” Business tone engaged; Mr Mafia Kingpin resumed. Whatever Mico is saying has Alexi forgetting our current dilemma and taking on his commander and chief persona. He looks at his watch, letting go of my arm and nods us onward towards the lunch party now I’m barefoot. I start walking, feeling the slightly damp grass between my toes and listen to him continue his conversation.

“So, who will be there? And does my father know, I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.”

When we are almost upon our group, he catches my wrist quickly and holds me back from walking the last few feet. No one is looking this way, and he waits while he finishes his call, obviously not wanting anyone eavesdropping.

“We’ll get a flight tonight and get back to Manhattan for it. Finally, an end to this bullshit. The nerve of the woman. I’ll talk to my father before I leave here and figure out the best way to proceed.” He sounds clipped and a tad agitated once more, and I can guess which woman he is talking about. I haven’t forgotten about her.

I lace my fingers through the hand he is holding me with and use my other hand to wrap ours together snugly, dropping my shoes at my feet, suddenly feeling insecure with the mention of that Marianne bitch and needing his touch. I use my toes to draw patterns in the grass as I wait for him, so I’m not staring his way and making my upset obvious while lightly swinging his arm with me from side to side. Alexi’s eyes are on me, watching me amuse myself, his expression softening slightly as he follows my movements.

“Yeah. Do that. You know the drill, and I will call you after I speak to my dad. Set it up. I’ll sort flights when I get off the phone.” Alexi lifts our joined hands up and looks at the way I have threaded both sets of my fingers in his one hand with an adoring smile before pulling me over firmly and planting a kiss on my lips softly. A smile and a look that says, ‘you’re the cutest’.

“Yeah Sure. Soon, okay. Bye. See you tonight.” He hangs up on Mico and stares at me for a good ten seconds with such an odd expression before saying anything.

“I love you.” It’s a sweet, soft proclamation born of finding me adorable at the moment, and I break into a huge smile in return, warm and fluttery butterflies rising inside me with that insane way he just makes everything feel perfect.

“I know you do. I love you too.” It’s my turn to lean up on tiptoes and deliver a kiss this time. A pause before I get to his mouth and a tilt to the side, teasing him before he loses patience and yanks me the last tiny inch to sink a kiss that’s less PG on me. Tongues and passion inducing. Arms sliding around me, and he picks me up to embrace me properly. My feet automatically lifting behind me, so we get full-on body contact and have ourselves a mini make-out session in full view of whoever looks this way.

Held up like this he rests me against him when we break, and we just gaze at each other for a moment. Completely content when with him this way, lost in that grey gaze as he floors me with a look that never ceases to win me over. My heart giddy and mood once again soaring from his attention.

“I’m sorry about your mother and how this has ended up.” I truly mean it. I may think she’s a toxic bitch, but she’s still his mother, and that scene was ugly, even by my standards. I know it had to have hurt him, and even though he seems fine now, he will simmer for a while yet.

“I don’t care anymore.” Alexi slides me down onto my feet and keeps me close, tracing his fingers across my cheek and then my bottom lip before brushing my hair back from my face and kissing me on the forehead affectionately.

“Yes, you do.” I nudge him lightly, a half smile and rest my head against him. I know him better than he thinks, and this is obviously getting to him.

“I spent my life believing no one could ever love me the way you do because of her. She drummed it into my head that I was a monster, sick and twisted, flawed, and nothing but a source of pain and disappointment for her. You know what … she doesn’t know you and yet I saw that same venom in there she always aimed at me. My mother is wrong. I have people who care about me and love me, and I don’t need her approval or her love anymore. I have you now. I never had it and nothing I do will ever earn it. I would rather be happy with you than bend over backwards to earn her twisted version. Leave her to my siblings, they fare better than I do, and she will never understand what we have.” He gazes off towards the people and looks far away and wistful for a second. Losing himself in his thoughts and I squeeze him tight.

“We are both products of shitty mothers, guess that’s why we fit. We get it. We understand the mess it made us,” I state, watching those grey eyes set on his family as they all chatter and laugh and watch their kids play.

“If I was that bad, that unlovable, I wouldn’t have found you. You are worth more than fifty of her, any day of the week. That’s all I need. Like I said, fuck her. I had to grow up sometime and realise my mother isn’t all that.” He comes back to me with one last soft smile and releases me once more, hand coming out to take mine and he finally pulls me towards the others. Leaving the drama in the house as he obviously wants to see these people ahead of us, all smiling and looking warm and welcoming. Typical Carreros.

“Yeah, fuck her. Fuck my mother too. We are the ones who deserved better. Not them. Look at us … the unlovable found something amazing, so we can’t be all that bad.” I smile up at him and get that one thousand-watt Hollywood grin right back. A kiss to my temple as we walk together, and I know I’m exactly where I should always be—by his side.

For the first time in my life, I actually mean it. I know what I endured in my life at her hands was never my fault, and I won’t live my life continuing to live in the shadows of the cruel things she made me believe about myself anymore.

Alexi has shown me that I am worthy. I am lovable, and I deserve my own happy ever after with a man I can trust. Even if he was probably the worst candidate at the start of this crazy journey. He deserves it too, and he is more than worthy of my entire heart and soul.

When we get to the table Gino spots us from further into the garden where he is kicking about a ball with some very small humans. It takes only minutes to be enveloped by the group and introductions are quickly made from people with a severe obsession with cheek kissing and bear hugs. I’m introduced rather proudly as Alexi’s new wife, and, of course, a lot of mock shock and outrage at missing the wedding ensues.

It’s a flurry of people for a solid ten minutes as the news spreads that yes, the commitment-phobic, womanising cousin has, in fact, got himself hitched. I must be some sort of goddess, angel, a saint with patience, yadda yadda. I endure a lot of jokes at his expense but it’s all in good form, and it’s obvious these people are truly happy for their black sheep of the family cousin. Alexi takes it all in his stride with a smile, and his mood from his mother’s behaviour flitters away on the breeze as quickly as mine does. They have infectious happiness that sucks you in and makes you forget your dark clouds.

I don’t feel completely comfortable surrounded by all these touchy-feely, overly nice people but it doesn’t take long to relax enough in his arm to sit and pick at the cold buffet that’s laid out for lunch in this huge greenhouse. Not that I would call it that, as there are barely any plants and it’s more of a social building filled with seating and tables. I would hazard his mother hasn’t got much of a green thumb and uses this for functions and lunches with her church-going friends. I wonder if she had it built to keep up with the neighbours and then failed miserably at any botanical raising.

Before long, his parents appear in the distance and make their way towards us, noticeably apart and stiff in posture. His mother has a pinched slapped expression on a face that looks like it’s been sucking lemons for the last half hour of her absence. She has clearly had a major dressing down and Alexi’s father approaches us with a smile and a handshake, looking much happier than she does. I can’t help the little smug uprising in my belly when I paste on my gracious smile and aim it at the sour bitch. Her strained mirroring smile and overly polite behaviour signal a woman who is seething inside.

I hope it chokes her.

She knows how to play the game though and nods our way begrudgingly. Alexi looks away, avoiding her eye contact and smooths his shirt down trying to distract himself. Her husband makes a beeline right for us, no longer in his full suit and tie but now, like Alexi, in shirt and trousers, while she hangs back and tries not to glare. Appearing busy with her guests while side watching us coldly. You can feel the hostility and poor Lexi continues to ignore her, breaking my heart for him even more. I personally, don’t give a toss about the crotchety old tart.

“Alexi, finally. Congratulation my boy. I’m thrilled to find you’ve finally put this poor girl out of her misery and made her one of us.” He shakes his son's hand heartily, smiling widely with genuine warmth on that normally serious face, before pulling him to his feet for a manly hug and a lot of back-slapping. It’s weird to see Alexi so physical with someone, but I guess that gentler touchy side had to come from one parent at least. I guess Daddy is affectionate, and the intimacy I get from my husband stems from having some real love and warmth from someone in his childhood.

Alexi says nothing, just smiles in that subtle way of his, pleased with himself and not overly verbal. He pulls me to my feet gently so his dad can hug me too. Somewhat awkwardly as I never know how to take genuine human interaction like this, especially not with men.

It’s weird, the embrace and the pat on the back, very Alexi like and when he steps back, he kisses me on the cheek. I blush stupidly, for no reason other than it feels strange to be greeted and accepted this way. A paternal greeting rather than the sleazy ‘let me fuck you’ that I get from most men. It knocks me off a little and I revert to a gawky child with no grace in her movements and a sudden urge to fidget and stand oddly.

“Welcome to the family Camilla. I’m sorry I didn’t see my son get hitched, but I want you to know I’m very proud of him for his excellent choice. A lady to tame my wild child is just what he needs.” There’s a low chuckle from him and Alexi shakes his head, his expression hard to gauge but I think it’s amusement. He’s aware of his mother’s presence and I can tell it’s making him keep that aloof and cool mask he wears so well. I smile warmly at that little statement though.

“I think the only wild one in this relationship, is my lady.” He points out with a smirk that earns him an elbow nudge, and he pulls me into the crook of his arm once more. My favourite place to be and snuggle into familiar and safe which instantly chills me out.

If I could, I would be glued to this man’s body twenty-four seven.

“I think you balance each other out when you’re not causing mayhem and chaos. It will be an interesting marriage for sure, never dull when you pair two fiery, passionate souls. I envy you.” He winks at me, heavy truth in his observation and pats his son on the shoulder as he nods to the figure of Alexi’s mother, who’s now padding off towards her other guests. Making a great show of removing us from her presence, and I bet it doesn’t go unnoticed among the others. His father leans in, lowers his tone and with a scarily Alexi, serious deadpan voice, utters words for our ears only.

“She won’t say another word about your union, and you are both welcome in our home whenever you wish.” It’s followed with a grim apologetic smile, a softening of his face that somehow makes my stomach flip over and my throat ache. I guess a lot of feelings are stirring in the depths and I’m not entirely sure it’s for me. I think it’s for Alexi and what he must be feeling right now. Knowing his mother would banish him for good for simply falling in love.

Makes me sick.

“Good. I think it’s finally come to the point where mother and I should just avoid each other for the sake of the family. If she can’t accept my wife, then I’m done trying.” Alexi adds a little forcefully, that hint of stubborn him in the husky growl and his father sighs. I blink his way, uncertain if he means his words when I know how much he yearns for her approval deep down.

“Give her time. She will get over the fact she couldn’t force your hand or choose your marriage partner. You know how she is when things do not go her way. She is obsessed with appearances.”

Oh yes, I can imagine. I live with her son who has the same charming disposition and equally stubborn vile streak.

“We aren’t staying. I need to talk to you about something later this evening when the family have gone. We need to be in the city for an early meeting with Giuseppe, so I can come back when everyone leaves.” Good old business tone back on and Alexi is closed up tighter than a vacuum sealed package once more.

Alexi’s father frowns and I too turn and look at him sharply, instantly winded by this revelation. I’m guessing that’s what his call with Mico was all about. I’d just assumed it was some sort of meeting about her. Now my head is spinning and reeling with the fact he is going to sit down with that woman, face to face, so soon. No plans in place.

And do what exactly?

I throw him a shady questioning look to try to get him to elaborate but a child runs up and throws herself at his legs, killing the conversation flat. A noisy bubbly intrusion of a mini person and I step away quickly, for fear of being wrinkled or made sticky by the little grabby blonde thing. It completely distracts me from the conversation as I shield myself from being infected by a child.

Ugh.

Alexi automatically bends without hesitation and picks up the little girl, resting her on his hip as he continues to talk to his father, but I completely zone out what they are saying and stare at him with a semi-shocked gawp. Not really seeing the easy fluid movement as a reality I ever expected from him. It throws me a massive curveball. Fixated suddenly with just how easily he lifted that kid up like it was a natural response and he didn’t even flinch or think about it. The guy who hated a stray cat enough to think of shooting it and is generally a cold bastard to most people—male or female!

I watch them intently. A slow-churning knot of something building inside me that feels a lot like anxiety; I bite on my lip and become more unsettled as I watch him with her.

Alexi bounces her on his hip and then lifts her little ragdoll in her hand up to wave at her while he talks. Homed in on his conversation but expertly distracting the little one. Bouncing her until she giggles and then he plants a kiss on the little chubby cheek of a child that looks no more than three years old, maybe. It was so automatic I don’t even think he realises he did it. He looks way too comfortable and at ease with little people, and I find it completely alarming. Nausea swirling inside me in disturbing ways and my stomach drops to my feet, taking my good mood and sanity with it. I try to stop openly staring, but I can’t.

He just looks so … paternal.

“Cam?” his voice snaps me out of my weird hazy daydream, and I realise he is both looking at me and talking to me. A strained expression and a confused tone as to why I’m blankly gawping like an idiot. My face is cold and I’m sure my blood has drained to leave me white as I sheet.

“What?” I flinch and spin my head around to see what or where I’m meant to be paying attention.

He nods to my left and I realise someone is stood holding something out to me with a bright smile. A presence I did not have an inkling was there.

“I said can you hold her while I nip to the ladies’ room?” The woman in front of me is one of his cousins, all dark hair and green eyes and very much a Carrero DNA candidate, and I blush to the roots of my hair. Embarrassed to have been caught off my social game. The thing she is holding out to me is a little tiny human baby wrapped in a blanket, blinking at me expectedly and I instantly stop breathing.

I freeze, eyes widening in shocked disbelief that someone would hand me one of these strange things, and I make a really poor attempt at trying not to accept the awkward bundle on automatic pilot while my brain is screaming a refusal. She’s caught me off guard and there seems to be several pairs of eyes on me.

She doesn’t wait to see if I’m capable of not dropping her offspring on its head. Ignores my hesitation and fumbling mumbles and practically tosses it into my arms before sauntering off in search of the loo, while I’m left holding this bundled blob of baby smells and noises like a bag of dog poo. I hold it away from me, fear of being puked or drooled on, and so awkwardly that Alexi looks immediately distressed. I’m barely grasping it in fingertips and its weight pulls it down below my boob level where it was first thrust, arms straining with this sudden mass. I catch his alarmed fleeting look of shock at my mishandling of his relation and he quickly deposits his own miniature human on her own feet to rescue the poor baby from my inexperienced hands.

“It isn’t a bomb, London. You know it can touch you without causing damage.” He bundles it up in his arms fluidly, saving its soul, smiling gently, voice oozing with amusement and instantly looks completely at home holding someone else’s mini-me once more. My heart just dissolves into ashes. Standing as awkwardly as before only now with the added shell-shocked aura around me.

“You like kids?” I blurt out almost absentmindedly as that internal fear takes over; my hands turn clammy and my mouth goes dry as this brand-new information I never once thought of asking him before, hits me in the face like a shovel. Kids were never a topic we gravitated to, and now I’m staring at him cradling some little smelly thing like it’s the most precious object in the world and my whole happiness flashes before my eyes.

I just stare at him cooing and cuddling it, popping a dummy in its mouth like it’s something he does every day, and he looks up at me calmly. No hint of anything at all to help me sort out the tidal wave of crushing emotion coming over me, threatening to drown me with insecurity.

“I guess. I mean I don’t mind them. I grew up around a constant stream of kids of varying ages, so I guess they are just part of life and what I’m used to.” He looks back down and nuzzles its tiny little face with his nose, creepily cute and gentle for him when it makes a little gurgle, soothing instantly and he again rocks it from side to side. Paternal instincts strong and I baulk, panic rising, nausea swirling as hysteria starts to hitch.

He just looks too damn proficient at this baby nonsense and as my eyes scan around me at the happy couples and the children of the Carrero family, a picture-perfect scene of what society expects, something hits me in the gut with painful precision.

Maybe he expects kids to come now we’re married and looking at a life together?

Oh, shit!

The blood drains from every cell in my upper body, leaving a cold wave in its trail and I sit down so suddenly, breathless and instantly lightheaded so it’s a flop rather than a gracious movement. Aware suddenly his father has moved on and we are now alone with this bundle between us.

I never for one second factored children into a life with him. It’s not something we ever brought up or talked about or even thought about. It’s never crossed my mind in any way because I made my peace with it so long ago.

If he wants kids, then he can’t have them while married to me. I can’t have children. I don’t want children. I never did.

I feel sick, nausea waving over me, and I fan my face as my entire world comes crashing down on me with this one unforeseen detail that could destroy everything. All the visions of our happy future and perfect life draining away so cruelly and I realise this was inevitable. It was becoming too real, too true, and I should have known I never really deserved a happy ever after. That some splinter in our relationship would ease out and infect it all.

The world would crash, and I would end up back in the gutter, because that is what life decided was for me from the day I was born.