Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 210

"Come on," Kent says, finishing his cup of coffee and moving as if he wants to stand up. "We need to get some food into you - you've got to be starving -"

"Nooo," I groan, leaning hard against him and making his job difficult.

"What," he laughs, pausing for a second. "You're not hungry?"

"Of course I'm hungry," I murmur, closing my eyes and tucking my head deliberately beneath his chin. "I just don't want to get out of bed. It's so lovely here. Can't we stay all day?"

"Trust me, Fay," Kent murmurs, his voice low as he drops his lips to my hair and traces a hand down the length of my back. "There's nothing I want more than to stay here with you all day. Preferably in the absence of this very ugly robe -"

"Hey!" I shout, snapping my head up to glare at him. "I've had this robe for years - Janeen brought it to me from our old house! It's perfectly broken in!"

"I can tell, Fay," he says, laughing a little and looking at it askance. "You don't have to get nostalgic about your robe - we'll get you a new one, a really nice one -"

"I don't want a new one," I scoff, "I like this one!"

"Okay," Kent says, smiling and kissing my angry mouth. "You can wear it beneath the one I get you, so I don't have to look at it."

"You're such snob," I say, laughing as I lift myself from his lap and head a little eagerly for the table, where I sink happily into one of the chairs and begin reaching for some buttered toast. Kent takes a minute to rifle through the little suitcase I packed for him, selecting some soft pants and a sweatshirt that he pulls over his head.

"Does the clothing pass your standards test, sir?" I ask a little sarcastically as I watch him settle the clothes over his tanned and muscled stomach, regretting a little the fact that the sight of it has been hidden away. Two months in jail hasn't done much to change Kent physically - he's still very hot, if perhaps a touch thinner than he was when he went in.

"It will do," Kent murmurs, sitting down across from me and smirking a little as he meets my eye. Because we both know that the clothing is all precisely what he'd want - I did my job well here, seeking out his favorite brands, trying them out on Daniel to ensure I got the size right. It all works.

I grin widely now, letting him know that I know that he likes it, and he laughs, shaking his head. "Thank you, Fay," he sighs, leaning forward and beginning to make himself a little plate of fruit, and cheese, and a half a sandwich. Though the words aren't much, I know that there's a great deal of feeling behind him - as with most things Kent says.

"You're welcome," I reply simply, smiling and taking a big bite of my toast.

Things move easily then as Kent and I have our breakfast, chatting idly about the minor details of my months at the beach house, the little preparations I made for this trip. As we talk, I can see him falling more and more into the leadership role he always assumes, his shoulders straightening, his face turning more serious. I smile to see it because this, of course, is the Kent I fell in love with.

But it's also nice to know that I now know something of the man beneath this hard surface, and that I can bring him out when I want to. When it's just us, and Kent feels safe.

I smile now, perfectly happy and shaking my head, considering that it's a wonder what the passage of the day can do. This time yesterday I was a mess of nerves, not even knowing if Kent and Jerome were going to make it to the boat, if cops were going to come screeching up to the port to arrest Daniel and I for what we did -

I blink suddenly, and my hand - holding a cup of orange juice - shakes a little bit, almost spilling my drink as it all again comes back in a flash -

My father, dead, his throat and his mouth open - shock still in his eyes, because he'd really thought the antidote was real, that I was going to give it to him -

Before even that light faded away. And he was just...dead.

"Fay?" Kent asks, leaning forward and peering at me across the table.

"Sorry," I say, clearing my throat and putting the orange juice down onto the table. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not," he insists, still looking at me. "Tell me."

I flick my eyes up to his, not wanting to. Because we're having such a nice morning -

"Tell me," he says again, an order this time.

I sigh, giving in. "It's not a big deal," I murmur. "I think it's - it's natural. I just remember, at odd moments, what we...did yesterday." I shrug, trying to downplay it - honestly because I think it needs to be downplayed. Wouldn't it be worse if I had no hard feelings about it? If I just moved blissfully on from killing my father?

Kent nods slowly, still looking at me without blinking. "Are you remembering it?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, holding his gaze. "In...strange little flashes. They come at the oddest moments -"

He nods more sharply now, sitting back, and I note that his hand grips the arm of the chair harder than it did before, as if he would break into my own mind and take the hard feelings away if he could. "That's happened to me before," he says softly. "It doesn't...end, but it gets fainter and fainter, more infrequent."

I turn my eyes downward as they start to fill with tears, not wanting him to see - but of course, how would he not notice?

I hear Kent click his tongue in concern and then he's moving, at my side in a second and scooping me out of the chair, pulling me up into his arms. He murmurs my name, a little sadly, before moving to the bed to sit me warmly in his lap again while he leans back against the pillows, a position I very much like.

But I don't have much time to appreciate the comfort and nearness of him right now, because I'm trying to hard to get my emotions under control, to reel everything back in. Where is the badass mafia donna now? I didn't even cry yesterday, when it happened - So why now, when it's so embarrassing -

"I hate that it's turned out like this," Kent murmurs, his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight against him.

I squawk a little in protest, looking up at him in surprise, making him laugh.

"No," he sighs, shaking his head, "all of this," he says, nodding around to our room, to the ship, our entire escape, "is...more than I could have asked for. But the price you paid to give it to me, Fay," he shakes his head, and I can see the guilt in his eyes.