Bell’s mouth fell open.
“You wish you would’ve been quieter… why…” His face went totally white. “Honey, no.”
Yes.
Yes, that was exactly what I meant.
I wish that it’d all just happened to me.
I wish that Brees had just gone ahead and done what he would. I wished that Sin wasn’t anywhere near me that night. I wished that I hadn’t ruined a career that he loved. Sent him to jail. Changed both of our lives.
“I meant…” Bellini trailed off when he saw that he wasn’t going to get through. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant. I swear to God.”
“What’s going on?”
I looked over Sin’s shoulder to see two more men, both very large, and very similar to the two standing next to me, staring at the three of us like something was worrying them.
Me, probably.
Or they didn’t like seeing their family upset.
And that was how both Sin and Bellini appeared in that moment.
“Do me a favor and get us some cake to go,” Sin ordered as he threw his arm around me. “And maybe next time we come here, you’ll think before you speak.”
Then Sin was leading me out the door to the parking lot, and my feet were moving, but my mind was still back in that dining room, at the look of horror on Bellini’s face.
I put the brakes on, and Sin had no choice but to stop or drag me.
He slowed and stared at me with confusion.
“Everything okay?” he asked, turning to me. “Bellini really didn’t mean it like that. I know what it sounded like but…”
“I’m really hungry, Sin,” I said softly. “And I know that he didn’t mean it.”
He brought both of his hands up and cupped my face with two huge palms.
“I don’t want you ever, ever thinking that you suffering would be better than what I went through,” he said, voice sounding rough and sad.
I looked away. Or tried to, anyway. He hadn’t let my face go, so I could only move my eyes.
“I would do it a hundred million times over again if that meant that you didn’t suffer a single hurt,” he said quietly.
I sighed. “I’m fucking eating here.”
Before he could catch me or tighten his hold, I slipped out of it.
Before I could think better of it, I marched back inside, straight to the booth where there were now two men sitting looking at Bellini like he was a dumbass.
“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” I grumbled as I took my seat. “I don’t want the cake first. I want the rolls. I’ve heard they’re to die for. Then I want a salad, because I heard that the ranch dressing here is the bomb. Then I’m ordering a forty-two-ounce steak.”
“Our biggest steak besides the tomahawk is the thirty-two ounce one,” Bellini said, giving me a small smile as he flagged down a waitress. “Get her some rolls and…” He looked at me. “What do you want to drink?”
I gave him my order of sweet tea then listened as he ordered that and three beers.
When he was done, he opened his mouth to say he was sorry, but Sin shoved him out of the way.
“Just shut up,” he grumbled, plopping down into the seat beside me and slapping his palm out on the table. “Look what I made.”
He then removed his palm to reveal the black and white photo of the sonogram—our baby—that he’d just gotten from the doctor.
“Hot damn,” Jim or Bronx—I wasn’t quite sure which was which—said as he leaned forward. “Bronx, look at this shit. Our big brother is going to be a daddy.”
So the one talking was Jim. Noted.
He was the one with the full beard. A full beard of salt and pepper that was damn hot on him. Though, not quite as hot as his brother’s, who, might I add, had trimmed it up a bit to make it not so bushy.
Bronx, who had a light coating of scruff, offered Sin his hand, then turned those baby blues on me. “We had a bet going.”
My brow rose.
“Yeah?” I asked, curious to know what bet this would be.
“Before I tell you about it,” Bronx continued, “how far along are you?”
I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
“Ummm,” I hesitated.
“It says eleven weeks one day on the sonogram,” Jim pulled the paper off the table and brought it to his eyes.
“That means I win!” Bellini cried, pumping his fist into the air as if he’d just won the lottery.
My brows rose.
“Ummm,” I hesitated.
“Son of a bitch,” Sin grumbled under his breath. “Guys, give it a rest.”
“Can’t.” Bronx grinned. “Did you know that we knew you were a guard there?”
I hesitated. “Didn’t really keep it a secret.”
“No,” Bronx agreed. “You didn’t. Nor did y’all do very well at keeping your feelings to yourselves.”
I hesitated because, honestly, he was right.