I want to tell him that everything is too perfect here. That being here, with him, makes me feel like I’ve never felt pain in my life. That he takes it all away and he always has. That no matter what messed-up shit he has done and does to me, that I won’t look past the dark to get to the light; I’ll exist in the dark with him. I want to tell him that I’m proud of the man he has grown to be, that he is the greatest father Wolf could have ever asked for and that I still trust him implacably. I want to tell him that I’d die for him, bleed for him, and not second-guess a single thing.

But I don’t. I just stare back at him and fight the tears that choke me. Because I can’t say any of those things to him.

Because I’m marrying someone else.

“Nothing.” I smile at him, giving the sweetest lie of all. “Nothing at all.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I replay the memories of the past two days over in my head. I’m home, in my penthouse that I have created wonderful memories in, yet—it doesn’t feel like home. There’s an empty throbbing that won’t stop beating inside of me and the only time it does, is when I think back to the passages at the clubhouse. To June, Diane, and Gracie. To Wicked with Wolf on his lap.

“You okay?” Betty asks, pulling me out of my daze. “I mean, clearly, Wicked hasn’t changed, but you’re going to need to cover it up before the wedding is all I’m saying.”

I take a sip of my coffee, blowing on it. “I will, but Mik doesn’t care. He doesn’t want this any more than I do—clearly.”

“That motherfucker is lucky to be marrying not just you, but a La Rosa. We all know damn well their family has dropped ranks lately.” Betty knows everything. She’s my constant and I don’t care that she’s not in-house. She’s mine, so that’s good enough.

“I think he’s hiding something from me,” I whisper, grabbing the pendant around my neck that Mama gave me.

“Oh, I bet he’s hiding a whole bunch of shit!” Betty clucks her tongue, flicking through images on the iPad.

“Not him. Wicked…”

Her flicking pauses, and I know she’s staring at me. “Why do you say that?”

I stand from the table and empty my mug in the sink. “I don’t know. Since Wicked and I first met, it’s as though we’ve been tuned into each other’s emotions. I can feel in my gut when he’s hiding something from me.”