Filed to story: Falling for My Ex's Mafia Dad Novel Free PDF (Fay Alden & Kent Lippert)
“Hey,” he says, the word coming out on a huge, relieved exhale of breath.
“Hi,” I reply, a smile widening as I press my eyes shut and let my head fall back, laughing a little at how unoriginal our conversation has been thus far.
“What’s so funny,” he murmurs, and I can feel the ease come into his voice, can almost see the way his shoulders must be loosening right now.
“You are,” I reply, my heart and my stomach fluttering with joy as I try to concentrate on listening, on taking in every sound along the line of the phone his words, his breath, even his very Kent-like silences. “We are. You’d think we’d have more to say.”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty to say,” he replies, a little growl in his voice. “Though I’d rather say it to your face.” I laugh again, knowing that he means more than what these few words carry on their surface. Instead, they hold a whole world of meaning letting me know that Kent’s mad at me for doing whatever I’m doing, that it’s causing him a great deal of anxiety as he sits there in his cell worrying about me. He’d much rather I just chilled out and grew a baby instead of hatching these insane plans.
“Yeah well,” I reply, working hard to fight the growing tightness in my throat. “I’ll take what I can get.” Then my cool breaks a bit, and the words stumble out of me. “Um, Kent? Can you just…talk? For a long time? Read out the dictionary or something?”
“What?” he replies, baffled. “Why?”
“Because,” I murmur. “I just…I want to listen to you speak. I miss the sound of your voice.”
“God damn it,” he mutters, his voice choked, and again even though I can’t see him, I know he’s burying his face in his hand, overwhelmed and trying to pretend like he’s not. “I’m sick of hearing my voice,” he says. “I’d rather hear yours.”
“Selfish,” I chide, making him laugh, and I almost groan when I hear it. I’d forgotten it, what it sounds like. And I hate myself for forgetting.
“Yeah well,” he murmurs. “You’ve met me. You can’t be surprised by that.”
I’m quiet for a long moment.
“Are you there?” he asks.
“Do you remember the last thing you said to me?” I ask quietly.
It’s his turn to be quiet now, but he comes back faster than I did. “I called you a liar.” I can hear the shame in his voice, and it kills me to make him feel that way because I know our time is short. But…I need to know.
“Do you still think that?” I ask, hardly able to raise my voice above a whisper.
“No,” he replies, immediately. “I I’m sorry. I never should have…”
“It made sense for your first reaction to be doubt,” I say, pressing my eyes shut and shaking my head. “But I didn’t lie, Kent I swear, I ”
“You don’t have to swear to me, F-…” I can hear him press his lips shut as he avoids saying my name. And I take a sharp, deep breath, knowing we’re on shaky ground. “I have no doubts,” he finishes.
“Good,” I murmur, and again I laugh just a little bit, because the word is pathetically inept in terms of encapsulating everything that I’m feeling right now.
“How is…it?” he asks, again hesitating, knowing that he can’t say anything more obvious than that.
“It?” I say, sighing and rubbing a hand across my belly. “It…is a jerk.”
He laughs again at that, a long peel of laughter that makes my heart clench almost painfully as I grin and shake my head.
“It won’t always be like that,” he sighs, and I can hear him smiling.
“Better not be,” I murmur, “I’m sick all the time.”
“And eating like a horse, I bet.”
“Yup,” I reply, losing track of my caution a little for a moment. My voice falls into a lower register now, deepening, softening. “You know food what it likes?”
“I do not,” he replies, his own voice velvet, and I can feel us falling into our old rhythms. If I close my eyes and ignore everything but the sound of his voice, I can almost imagine being curled up next to him in the dark, my head on the soft place between his shoulder and his chest that I like best. “Tell me.”
“You have to guess,” I tease.
“No,” he refuses, making me laugh again, because I almost missed momentarily how contrary and stubborn he can be.
“Do it!” I insist, wiping a stray tear away from my eye as I lose myself completely to the conversation.
“Bananas,” he ventures, and, still laughing, I shake my head. But even though he can’t see me, he can tell he was wrong. Maybe he, too, knows me well enough that he can imagine my gestures alongside my words, the sound of my breath.
“Tiramisu,” he tries.
“Ew,” I reply, wrinkling my nose and feeling actual nausea build in my stomach at the thought.
“How can you say ew to tiramisu, it’s delicious ”
“It is not,” I counter, my face disgusted now. “Ugh coffee and custard? Who came up with that? You’re bad at this maybe we shouldn’t play ”
“Fine, fine,” he sighs. “Because it’s you, and you have the food preferences of a fourth grader…I’m going to guess pizza.”
“Bingo,” I say, my face breaking out into a huge grin. Kent laughs, victorious.
“At least it’s Italian,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, but it wants lots of ranch dressing on top ”
Kent groans. “Don’t tell me these things I don’t need to know how you’re bastardizing the national dish ”
“One Minute Left,” says a mechanical voice, interrupting our conversation and making my eyes fly open.
“Oh,” I say. “Um…I didn’t realize it would be so short.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I didn’t have much phone time left this week. If I’d have known ”
“It’s okay,” I interrupt, sitting up suddenly and feeing frantic, not knowing…how to end this. “Um…”
“Promise me you’re not doing anything stupid,” Kent orders, his voice suddenly very serious.
“I can’t,” I whisper back, unwilling to lie to him. “But…I’m safe, okay? We all are.”
He sighs, not saying anything, I think struggling with the fact that there’s nothing he can do about it.
“Okay,” he murmurs, finally. My breath ratchets up now and I wish I’d started counting after the mechanical voice gave us the time check how many seconds are left?
“Hey,” I say, all in a whispered rush, “I…I love you, all right?” My voice cracks as I say the words, my breath hitching in my chest.
There’s a long beat before Kent replies.