Broken Knight

I stopped. Turned around. She looked meek. Timid. Almost scared. Did she realize this was not the best pick-up place in the world for newly singled millionaires?

I frowned, losing patience. “Yes?”

“Your wife asked me to come here.”

“She did?” I smiled skeptically.

I didn’t buy it for one second. Chances were, my wife wasn’t keen on throwing younger blondes on my ass before I’d even buried her.

The little blonde nodded furiously, swallowing hard.

“And you are?”

“Dixie Jones.”

“Dixie Jones,” I repeated the name, tasting it in my mouth before the penny dropped.

Motherfucker.

My eyes narrowed, and I immediately twisted my head to look for Knight. Suddenly I was rabid. I wanted to protect my kid like he was a baby and she was about to kidnap him. As it was, Knight weighed probably more than both of us. He could wear his birth mother as a scarf and forget to take her off when he walked indoors. He didn’t need my protection, but it didn’t make me want to give it to him any less.

“He knows I’m here.” Dixie read my mind, taking a step back.

I obviously looked as distraught as I felt. I needed space. From her. What the hell was she doing here?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I echoed my thought.

She looked ready to explain, but the last thing I wanted was baby mama drama at my wife’s funeral.

I held up a hand, shaking my head. Already people’s gazes were beginning to turn our way. I was supposed to be with my friends and family, not talking to this young stranger. Dixie Jones was, I decided, not the sharpest pencil in the box, despite my wife’s strange fondness for her.

Late. Late wife. I was never going to get used to it. Yet, Rosie had wanted her here. I couldn’t disrespect her wish.

“Know what? My son is eighteen. He is of legal age. If you want to talk to him, do. If he wants you in his life, I will give him my blessing.”

She nodded.

I should have stopped, but I couldn’t.

“If he doesn’t…” I said slowly, fixing my gaze on her. “I will unleash hell on you if you come any closer to him. I’ll bury you so deep in legal shit, by the time you come up for air, it will be your turn in a casket. He’s been through enough. Now, excuse me, Dixie. I need to go say my farewell to the love of my life.”

With that, I turned around and walked toward the woman I’d joined with between these pews two decades ago. Only then, she’d worn a wedding gown and a mischievous smile.

Only then, she’d promised me forever.

Only then, I’d taken it, knowing damn well forever wasn’t going to be the longest time.

As I peeked into her casket, at her tranquil smile, her gorgeous, porcelain face, that white chiffon gown she loved so much, I knew forever wasn’t long enough.

Not for a love like ours.



A little while later, I watched Levy hugging Bailey over my wife’s fresh grave. I wanted to die.

I watched Luna engulf Knight in her slim arms. I wanted to dig a hole next to my wife’s grave and settle there.

Everyone was in pairs. Such is nature—a special type of asshole.

Vicious and Emilia. Jaime and Melody. Trent and Edie. My parents. Even Daria, Jaime’s kid, and her fiancé, Penn.

The soil above my wife’s casket was fresh. Dark. Damp. It was not too late to pull it out. Not that I would. That would be crazy.

You’ve done crazier shit for this woman.

Staying calm was not an option, so I was trying to keep sane. Baby steps and all that bullshit. I blinked, looking away from the assaulting image of the ground swallowing my wife’s casket. There were dozens of people around me, but somehow, the only person I could spot in the distance was Dixie Jones. She stood back, away from everyone else, chewing on her lower lip the same way Knight chewed on his stupid tongue piercing every time he was contemplating something or just being his usual, ill-behaved self.

A cheek pressed against my shoulder. I looked down. It was Emilia.

“She’d have been proud of you,” she whispered.

“I know.” Not if she could read my mind. Not if she knew all the dark shit that blazed through it like a storm.

Vicious, behind her, clapped my back. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too, bro.” Trent clapped my shoulder from the other side.

“We’re here for you. We’re always here for you,” Jaime butted in.

Mel and Edie clung to me. Then the kids trailed over, embracing me from the back. The front. Everywhere. I was the center of a mass-hug in a matter of seconds. Everywhere I looked there were faces I knew and loved.

And it wasn’t pity I saw in them. That was the part that kept me from breaking, from really digging a hole next to Rosie and lying there. There was admiration and determination instead. But still, I couldn’t find solace in that. Not completely. Not until I felt Knight’s hand on the back of my neck and saw my son staring right at me. He leaned in to hug me, so close his lips were on my ear.

“You told Dixie to fuck off?” he rasped.

Goddammit. I didn’t want to lie to him. But I didn’t want another explosive argument on my hands, either.

“Knight,” I said.

“Thank you.” He drew me into a hug.