Serafina

Every Sunday morning, I eat breakfast at my apartment with my best friend, Asia. She wakes me up promptly at eight by pounding on my front door and I slink out of bed, still tired from my lack of sleep the night before.

“Open up, ’Fina,” she calls through the door.

I do, yawning and stretching. She takes one look at me, snorts, and comes in, carrying two white bags.

“Tell me that’s a double mocha,” I say, desperate for caffeine.

She places the bags on the dining room table, then faces me, one hand on her hip. “Tell me why you didn’t answer the phone yesterday? Or text, even.”

“Sorry,” I say, meaning it. “I wanted to be alone.”

“Why?”

Asia and I met four years ago after I decided to try and establish a new life for myself. I spent the first year in Texarkana holed up in this apartment, ordering takeout and paying my bills online. I was too afraid to venture outside. The threat of my remaining brother or any of the Dead Dogs finding me very real in my mind. Then one day I woke up and craved warmth and sunshine. I needed to be around people. To hear kids laugh and watch the birds flit around in the park. I got dressed and took the longest walk ever.

I randomly chose a café and grabbed a seat at the counter. Asia brought me a menu. I guess I looked as pathetic as I felt, because she told me there was no way she was going to let me eat alone, clocked out, then sat down next to me with a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. We talked for hours and I ended up giving her my cell number.

“Well?” she presses.

“Coffee first?” I beg, inching toward the table.

“What happened, ’Fina?”

“That bachelor party was everything I thought it would be. Trouble.” I fill her in on the basics.

“Sonofabitch,” she swears, pulling my drink out of the paper bag. “Here. Maybe you need a couple shots of Kahlua in it.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

She pulls out one of the chairs and sits, looking agitated. “You need to tell Ben to go fuck himself. No more stripping.”

I suck down a mouthful of coffee. “I can’t just quit my job. I need the money.” Although I have some savings, the money I used to reestablish myself is all gone, so I’m like most people—living paycheck to paycheck.

“You can wait tables at the café with me. The owner is salivating to get you on payroll.”

“Yeah, and in bed.”

She laughs. “Michael is a little hot for you.”

“And way too old. He’s sixty, right?”

“Forty-seven.”

“Close enough,” I say, wrinkling my nose. The guy has spent way too much time in a tanning booth and he chews tobacco, so his teeth are permanently stained yellow. “Ben won’t cancel my contract. I have two more years of school and work left.”

Asia empties the second bag, placing my favorite jelly doughnuts in front of me on a napkin. “Eat.”

“Two?”

“I splurged,” she jokes, biting into her chocolate éclair—a hint of mischief in her pretty eyes. “You met somebody, didn’t you?”

I freeze, wondering how in the hell she knows that. Yeah, I met someone. Someone I already love. “No.”

“Liar.”

“I didn’t.”

“’Fina . . . I accept you for what you are. I know you’re hiding from someone. I figured that out the day you showed up in the restaurant lost and unsure of yourself. I accept the fact that you’re the only person I know without family or a single photograph of someone you know in your house.” She looks around the expanse of my dining room and living room. “I don’t probe because I respect your privacy. But when I ask a direct question and you lie to me for no reason . . .”

Tears fill my eyes. I’m on edge, have been since the moment I saw Eagle. My hands start shaking. “I can’t tell you anything, Asia. I’m sorry.”

She sets her drink aside and takes my hand. “That bad?”

I sniffle, so close to completely breaking down. But I’ve come too far to give up now. “Yeah. I did meet someone. He protected me from the cartel asshole. We kissed a couple times and talked for hours. That’s it. Nothing will ever come of it.”

“I want you to be happy, Serafina.”

“I am.”

“To share your life with a great guy.”

“Like you and Desmond?” There’s a relationship I don’t fully understand. Asia is so beautiful and vibrant—dark haired with crystal blue eyes. She has a gregarious personality while Desmond is quiet and reserved. I think their bedroom chemistry is what keeps Asia around.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Secrets can’t stay hidden forever. Someday you’ll want a family. A career. People will ask questions and expect honest answers.”

“I’ll move if I have to.”

“And do what?” She pauses and squeezes my fingers. “Keep running until there’s nowhere left to go? My father can help you. Remember? He’s a judge now. Whoever hurt you in the past can’t get to you now if you ask for help. I promise.”

We were raised in different worlds. Asia has a big family, three brothers and two sisters. Professional parents who adore her. Money. Roots. A real life. I’m like a skeleton, all my flesh stripped away, the bare bones showing.

“Please trust me.” She hugs me.

I rest my chin on her shoulder, welcoming her compassion and warmth. I do trust her. It’s myself I can’t trust. How many times have I almost slipped up and spilled all my secrets? The Dead Dogs don’t care about connections and money. If they knew Asia had information that could harm a member, they’d hunt her down. Never mind if her daddy is a judge. First rule of any MC, no snitching. Call the cops and you die.

I sit back. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course.” She looks so disappointed.

“These jellies are to die for.”

“Marcus makes them fresh every morning. Imagine stuffing your face three or four days a week with these babies.” She takes a big bite of her indulgence and chews extra loud.

I laugh. “No thank you. Once a week is enough for me.”

“At least tell me if your mysterious savior was hot or not.”

I nod enthusiastically. “Everything we dream of. A tattooed bad boy with attitude to spare.”

She rests her chin on her fist. “Tall?”

“Very.”

“Muscled?”

“Better than a Hemsworth.”

She grins. “Blond?”

“No. Raven-black hair.”

She sucks in a breath. “Big blue eyes?”

“Scary eyes.”

“Mind if I stalk him for a couple months? You can borrow Desmond.”

I’m glad the mood has lightened between us. We never argue and rarely disagree. But when we do . . .

Last year she tried to set me up with her brother, Liam. A staged accidental meeting in the grocery store. I saw right through it. Liam is a professional football player in Houston and never shops for himself. Asia’s mother goes to Houston once a month and takes care of everything for him.

As if she’s reading my mind, she says, “Liam is still single. He likes you, ’Fina. A lot.”

If I were another girl in another dimension, I’d be all over him. Happy to date a superstar. But I’m not. My heart has been held captive for seven years. From the first time I met Caleb until now. Pretty sure no man can change it. And even if he could, I wouldn’t let anyone get that close. I believe in true love, that it lasts forever.

“Tell him hello. Did he successfully renegotiate his contract?”

She snorts. “His agent did, for an extra three percent.”

“Really?”

“What’s eighteen percent of twenty million dollars?”

I do the math in my head. “Three point six million.”

“See . . . that little asshole in Los Angeles is constantly taking advantage of my big brother.”

“Forget the agent. That’s wonderful news, Asia.”

“I know.” She shows me her pearly whites again. “So, are we good?”

“Always.”

“Then get dressed and let’s go to the mall.”

Not really in the mood, I agree. “Okay.” I finish off my second doughnut, wipe my hands on my napkin, then head for my bedroom. I need to get out of here for a bit and do something girly for once. Maybe pick out some new lingerie?

I showered before bed, so I slip on jeans and a cute T-shirt that says live for the moment. I check myself in the mirror, comb my long hair out, and apply some black mascara and really pink lipstick. Satisfied, I grab my purse from on top of the dresser and return to the dining room.

Asia cleared and wiped the table down. She’s waiting in the hallway by the door. “That pink lipstick really looks good with your skin tone. I’d kill for your skin.”

“I’d kill for your natural tan.”

We both laugh. As I open the door, I’m surprised to find a long white box with a red ribbon tied around it on my porch.

“What’s that?” Asia asks, gazing over my shoulder.

“I-I don’t know.” I’m stunned. No one sends me anything, ever.

“Move over, girlfriend.” Asia gently pushes me aside and grabs the box. She carries it to the table and I close the door and follow her.

“Want me to open it?”

“Go ahead,” I say, afraid to touch it.

She unties the ribbon and lifts the lid, revealing two dozen long-stemmed white roses. The card reads:

You’re impossible to forget. Eagle

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Serafina?”

I’m crushed and overjoyed at the same time. How did he find out where I lived? I lied to the driver and had him drop me off at an apartment complex half a mile from my own. So there’s no way . . . Then I remember who Eagle is. What kind of connections he has. He could find anyone.

“Eagle is the guy from Friday night.”

“I gathered that.” She admires the flowers. “Sure you didn’t do more than kiss him?”

“Promise.”

“Well, pretty girl, it’s about time someone appreciated you. Grab a vase, the blossoms need water or they’ll wilt.”

I rush into the kitchen and look in several cabinets. I don’t own a vase. “I can’t find one.”

“Only you,” Asia says. “How about one of those plastic pitchers you make iced tea in?”

“Sure.” I grab the clean one from the dishwasher and fill it with cool water.

When I return to the dining room, Asia just stares at me. “’Fina has a boyfriend,” she teases, singsong, like a little sister would.

No, I think. I have a death wish. Because that’s what will happen if I let Eagle invade my world. One of us, or both, will die.