Hitman's Secret Baby: A Bad Boy Romance (17 page)

Epilogue

I draped the Christmas tree with the last of the twinkling lights, standing back to admire my handy work.

It was a sparse old thing, pulled from the diner’s basement according to Taryn, but she had an odd fondness for it and so I didn’t bother offering to replace it. We had a fresh pine at home and so this thing, I supposed, could stay in here.

Outside, the snow fell thick and fat onto the sidewalk. The sky was a solid grey for miles.

It was pure Christmas weather.

The clock on the diner wall hit three PM but it was dark enough to look much later.

“Yo, the angel is wonky,” Justin griped from behind the counter. “You can’t have a Christmas tree with its angel looking drunk.”

He was wiping down the tops with a rag, the smell of disinfectant strong in my nose. It was a smell I was getting well used to, lemon-fresh and not so bad.

“Why the hell not?” I asked, pulling a face. “Have you seen that thing? Not a lot can improve it.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “It’s tradition.”

“Yeah, so people keep telling me.”

“You’re part of the family now, you have to abide them,” Justin drawled. “Even if you think they’re dumb.”

Which Justin clearly did. It’d been strange getting to know him again, from my memories of the cynical goth
kid he used to be to the reality of the frankly hysterically dry pessimist he’d become.

I always liked the guy a lot and, after several months of distrust and outright disdain, he’d started to warm to me again too.

“I got something to do in the back,” he quipped, and then he was gone, vanishing into the back office.

I suspected he was wrapping presents in there; he stole the tape dispenser from one of the drawers in the counter a few hours ago.

I was beginning to learn that Justin was late to everything. Late to dinner, late to family functions, late to work. Everyone else’s Christmas Eve presents were already under the crappy old diner tree but Justin’s were, of course, late to the party.

I didn’t see why the present exchange happened here, anyway, but I was pretty new to this whole family tradition thing and, secretly, I kind of liked it.

I only griped for the sake of it, some small way of clinging to my less than fluffy side.

The bell over the front door jingled and I turned around.

“Daddy!”

Daisy flew at me, her wellington boots squeaking on the new tile floors and her winter coat damp with snowfall.

I scooped her up in my arms, my heart aching with tenderness. I hadn’t expected to fall in love with my daughter so fast, but it had happened. Happened like a lot of things I hadn’t been expecting.

I knew her, and she me, but I could never quite shake the fierce feeling of adoration every time I laid eyes on her. I just couldn’t get enough of her, no matter how much time we spent talking or laughing or playing. No matter how I tried to make up for those lost years, there always seemed to be more I wanted to do.

Taryn said those feelings would dull but never truly go away. She told me it was the curse and the blessing of being a parent.

A curse, specifically, with Daisy soaking my shirt and shaking her wet hair to splatter water all over the floor I’d mopped only this afternoon.

If someone had told me I’d be mopping a diner floor again just six months ago, I would’ve punched them. I might, still, depending on who the person was.

“Have you been
rolling
around in the snow or something?” I asked Daisy exasperatedly.

“Kinda,” Daisy told me sheepishly. Suddenly, her hand flew out, and a lump of snow slid its way down the back of my shirt.

I groaned, hunching my shoulders and letting her drop to her feet on the floor where she stood laughing.

She was my daughter through and through alright, sneaky as hell and ruthless to boot.

Taryn laughed as she made her way over from the doorway, sliding off her heavy coat and throwing it over one of the tables. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips in greeting.

“Any customers today?” she asked.

“Only a handful. It’s been pretty dead.”

“Don’t worry. It’s Christmas Eve, not you,” she said with a glint in her eye.

“Ha ha.”

Taryn bit the middle fingers of her gloves and pulled them off one by one as I watched, enraptured. It was the oddly domestic things like that that always struck me the hardest. The bigger picture was all good and well, but when I watched Taryn bite off her gloves or Daisy slurp a drink through a crazy straw, it truly hit me how I’d never learned to appreciate the little things in life.

“When are Uncle Ethan and Auntie Anna getting here?” Daisy asked, her green eyes bright with excitement.

No, worse than excitement; sheer Hellish Christmas fanaticism.

“Soon, honey,” Taryn told her. “You’ll get to open your presents soon.”

“They’re coming around to ours for dinner tomorrow,” I said. “Why can’t we do the presents then?”

Both Taryn and Daisy looked at me, appalled.

“Daisy,” her mother prompted. “You can take this one.”

Daisy took a deep breath like on orator preparing to give a damn speech. “It’s a tradition, Daddy.” Like I hadn’t heard that already a thousand times. “Every Christmas Eve, we eat Uncle Justin’s cranberry pie and we give each other our presents in the diner!”

I grinned at her, but I still rolled my eyes. “Well, it sounds weird to me.”

Daisy nudged me with her elbow. “You’ll get used to it.”

I would, it was true. I kept having to remind myself that this wasn’t temporary, that I had all the time in the world to get used to life here.

Taryn’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Listen to your daughter, Mason.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I drawled.

I helped Daisy out of her coat and she darted straight towards the back room, seeking out Justin. It left me alone with Taryn and I took her in my arms, kissing her properly. Last night I laid her in our bed and made love to her for hours. This morning I caught her in the shower and fucked her hard and fast.

I never got tired of any of it, not like I’d worried I might.

“How’s your day been?” Taryn asked, looking around at the spotlessly clean diner, if I did say so myself.

“A little dull,” I told her honestly. “I cleaned, I poured coffee, I served pie.”

“Feeling restless?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“It’s okay to miss the life you had,” Taryn said, as understanding as ever.

I considered it—in fact, I’d been considering it a lot lately. To begin with, I’d found domesticity real hard. I’d struggled with dumb everyday things like relaxing on an evening in front of the TV instead of drinking and partying or pouring over blueprints and files.

Adapting, though, was something I was good at, and I’d set my head to at least acting like I was okay.

But that hadn’t been good enough. It wasn’t real.

One night I’d gone out to The Royal, drank two rows of whiskey shots, and picked a fight with the biggest guy I could find.

I’d gone home to her with a fat lip and a black eye, arrogantly muttering about how I could take the fucker, swaying and falling down.

I’d ended up in tears on the kitchen floor while she held me and let me pour out my entire heart to her.

After that, things had been better. The transition was never meant to be easy, I was just being impatient.

I hadn’t had a single nightmare now for two months.

“I don’t miss it,” I said honestly.

Sure, I missed the view from my New York apartment, and yeah, I missed the feeling of exhilaration born from a tense situation, but I didn’t miss the life. I wouldn’t go back to it for all the money in the world. We’d been safe from Monroe’s organization and the Thorne brothers’ company and I hadn’t had a single phone call or visit from an old colleague since I bumped into Jay in town.

He’d congratulated me with a slap on the back. He’d seemed genuinely pleased.

One day, when I had my head screwed on completely, I vowed to myself to seek him out and help him get out too.

Taryn frowned. “No?”

“I’m serious,” I promised her, tucking her hair behind her ear. I never wanted her to be concerned that I might leave again, and I worked every day to make sure she knew that. “I love you, I love Daisy, I love it here.”

“Even working in the diner?” she asked dryly.

“Well,” I huffed. “It is the
family
diner.”

Out of the windows, I saw Ethan and Anna approaching through the snow. I grabbed Taryn’s hand and spun her around until she laughed.

The bell above the door rang and the two lovebirds entered. Anna raised an eyebrow. “Are we interrupting something?”

“Not at all. You’re just in time for eggnog,” Taryn told her, untangling herself from me.

I kissed Anna on the cheek and shook Ethan’s hand as Taryn headed into the kitchen, bringing back a bunch of plastic diner glasses and a pitcher of homemade eggnog, freshly made this morning.

She poured out the drink, and two for Daisy and Justin, calling their names until Justin poked his head around the door.

“
What
?”

“Get your ass out here and have some eggnog!”

He came out, looking harried and carrying a bunch of messily wrapped gifts. Daisy was hot on his heels, eagerly eyeing up the presents. I wondered if she’d been pestering him in there for a peek of them.

Knowing him, he probably let her look.

My sister cleared her throat, holding up her glass to get everyone’s attention.

“So,” she started, and gave me an evil smile.

I knew what was coming. “No. Don’t make a speech, don’t do that to me.”

“Shush,” she hissed. “As we all know, it’s been a pretty strange year.” A laugh rippled around our little group and I rolled my eyes. “I can say with plenty of confidence that nobody had had a year like the one we’ve had.”

“Here here,” Ethan piped up.

“I got married to the man I love, and the
other
man I love came back from the dead,” Anna went on, and this time I did laugh. “My brother saved my husband’s life, saved all of our lives.”

“Anna,” I groaned.

Like a folktale, we’d told Daisy this story. She was too young to hear the grittiest details, but Taryn had painted it like a swashbuckling adventure, where Daddy had come back and rescued everyone, where Daddy was a hero.

She beamed up at me proudly—her hero daddy. It still made me feel unworthy and so I tried to live every day making it real.

Anna ignored my complaint. “My brother who is modest and stubborn. Who I loved, and who I love.” I saw Taryn smiling at me and didn’t pipe up again. “To Mason,” Anna went on, and suddenly everyone in the diner was raising a glass to me.

I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably. “Guys, come on, seriously.”

“Aw. He’s blushing,” Taryn said with a grin, cuddling up to my side.

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved them off sardonically. “I’m just… I’m just glad to be here,” I said lamely.

It didn’t matter, though, how inept my words were, because these people were my family and they loved me. I was accepted for me, for all of my faults, the things I still struggled with, my past, and even my epic betrayal.

These people had accepted me, despite the hurt I’d caused. They loved me unconditionally.

It was overwhelming and on some days I still felt like I didn’t deserve it. I was working on that.

“Can we open the presents now?” Daisy asked loudly.

“Yes!” I agreed, eager to stop talking about me.

In a wave of eggnog and laughter, we headed over to the bright but spotty little diner tree. Suddenly, surrounded by people, it didn’t seem all that tragic looking.

I hung back, watching my family exchange gifts and jokes.

A scarf for Anna that reminded me of one she had as a young girl, green like her eyes; a brand new cellphone for Daisy because I’d argued like hell for it with Taryn, wanting my daughter to always be in contact; a brightly patterned tie for Ethan, the man who had everything.

Later, I’d give Taryn my own private gift; my mother’s locket, a thing I’d kept safe and hidden for all these years.

I’d found it in my New York place when I was packing up, horrified that I’d forgotten it was there. I knew, immediately, that I wanted Taryn to have it, and I’d cleared it with Anna, making sure she didn’t mind.

As I watched them, warmth filling my chest, I knew I was content.

It had taken me a while to recognize the feeling, but once I had, no other word seemed to fit.

I had never been content before. Not even as a young man, and certainly not as an adult. To me, contentment had been a job where I was unlikely to get shot or beat up. It had been no way to live, and I saw that now.