Page 121 of His Kidnapped Queen
“Watch me.” He breathes in a sharp breath as she shifts and gets closer to him. “I can’t believe I missed so much of her life.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, guilt rushing through me, but Luca looks up at me with a frown.
“Don’t be sorry. You did the only thing you could to keep her safe. I wasn’t… I don’t know if I’ll ever be a good dad,” he says quietly.
“Luca—”
“No, let me say this. The way I grew up, the way Nico and Ibothgrew up, the odds were stacked against us. We were born to this life. Bred to be mobsters. So the fact that you weren’t sure whether or not I’d be a good influence in her life…that makes sense, pixie.”
“It does?’
“Of course it does. You wanted to keep her from the life. I want that, too. I just want her to be happy and healthy.” He looks at me seriously. “And you won’t bring her to the prison?”
My mouth goes dry. “No. No, Luca, if you don’t want me to?—”
“I don’t. Doc says I’ll be here for another week, at least. Just bring her to see me when you can.”
“I’ll bring her every day.”
“Every other,” he amends. “Don’t want her getting tired of me.”
I smile sadly. “I don’t think anyone could ever get tired of you.”
He snorts. “Could have fooled me.”
I take his hand. “I should have never left in the first place.”
“No. You were right to do it. I just wish things were different. I wishIwas different.”
“But you are different, Luca. You’re not the same man you once were.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I love you, Luca, and I?—”
I want to help him. I want to tell him everything will be okay, but I can’t. Like Scott said, I can’t unring the bell. What am I going to do?
“Don’t,” Luca says, cutting me off, his voice calm and quiet. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have, yeah?”
I nod, but I want to scream.
It’s not enough. It’s never going to be enough.
I don’t know what to do with myself when I leave the hospital. My house seems empty, not my own anymore. I don’t know if it ever felt like home, but it certainly doesn’t now.
I know what I need to do. I just have to gather the courage to do it.
And there’s only one person in my life who has ever given me courage.
I call my father around six, knowing it’s about when he eats dinner. Ninety percent of the time it’s a tv dinner, usually Salisbury steak.
“Hello?”
I’m still using the burner phone that Scott got me from the gift shop, so he doesn’t recognize the number.
“Papa?”
“Oh, my Sophie,” he breathes. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. I keep calling.”
