𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

2 | Conflicting Emotion in a Drunken State

Tom has refilled his glass twice already since we've gotten home, drinking his Dad's favourite scotch. I thought he had consumed enough alcohol today at his little godfather making ceremony but once I managed to get him home, he only continued to drink more.

Haz and Robyn came over afterwards after being peer pressured into 'just one drink' by Tom and left shortly after - it was already 9pm by this stage and nobody had eaten dinner. Tom then ordered Chinese food, forgot that he had ordered said Chinese food and then ordered Mexican food for dinner. To both his and my surprise, we had two seperate delivery drivers arrive at the front gates and ask to be buzzed onto the property.

The first driver was the Mexican food, which Tom was excited about considering it was the order he actually remembered. The second driver; his original Chinese food, then arrived at the front gates and called the house via the intercom. Tom, in his drunken stupor, convinced himself someone was trying to kill us and pulled a gun from god knows where, ready to 'kill these mother fuckers'.

He then got a notification on his phone saying 'Your driver has arrived' which made him realise he had ordered two lots of dinner and calmed down shortly after.

"You know darling, I kinda thought my making ceremony would go differently," Tom said to me, trying to pick up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and struggling.

"How'd you imagine it?" I ask, holding back a laugh at his chopstick incompetency. He did know how to use them, just not whilst he's drunk.

"I just thought Dad would be the one holding Michel Angelo and burning him with me," he said through a mouthful of chicken.

"You mean Archangel Michael? The saint? Michel Angelo is a ninja turtle and an old ancient painter guy," I laughed softly.

"Yeah him... I thought Dad would step down as The Godfather from old age and that I'd be like forty and married to a hot wife," he shrugged sadly.

I really don't know what to say to someone when their parent passes away from gun fire. It's not something like a fatal disease where nobody can help it, this was completely situational. Wrong place, wrong time.

"I still think that if I had just listened to him, he'd still be alive," he sighed, trying to put an entire dumpling in his mouth with one bite.

"Tom, don't think like that. He was protecting The Family from a federal agent who was plotting against each and every one of you, and more importantly he was protecting his son. He died upholding the very same oath you took today, protecting The Family before yourself," I said watching him struggle to close his mouth with the dumpling, yet still talking about such heavy topics.

"Yeah I know but like, I would have had Daniel killed quickly and easily if Dad didn't come to the club in the first place," he groaned, putting his chopsticks down and taking a bite of his burrito.

I need to change the subject; he's going to spiral.

"You're seriously going to eat all of this? Just pick one and put the other on the fridge for lunch tomorrow," I smiled, watching him shake his head with his teeth sunken into the burrito still.

"I'm so wasted... I'm not even hungry I'm just eating cos it's in front of me," he giggled, his mood changing between depressed and nonsensical constantly.

I had finished my food, choosing to eat my taquitos and save my Chinese food for lunch tomorrow; it's easier to reheat. Tom fell backwards and laid on his back, groaning loudly that he was full and wanted me to carry him to bed.

This was impossible to do. I am a small woman and he is a strong man. Not the tallest of men, but heavy for me to carry nevertheless.

"Tom what? No, come on and get your fat ass off the floor and walk yourself to bed," I laughed, hitting his leg and standing up myself.

Proving my point that he can easily stand up and walk to the bedroom, he sprung to his feet, scooped me over his shoulder and stumbled into the wall. Normally, I'd be upside down hanging over him and laughing. Tonight, I was fearful that both of us would come crashing down before we got to bed.

"Tom! No, put me down! You are way too drunk to be doing this," I squealed, clinching onto him for dear life as he held me with one arm and used his other arm to stabilise himself down the corridor; holding onto various tables, door frames and sliding his palm down the wall.

He practically fell on the bed; me flopping onto my back as he face planted into the pillow, laughing at himself. Whereas I for one, was relieved we fell on the bed and not smacking our heads on the floor. He groaned and struggled to roll over onto his back, resembling a turtle stuck on its shell.

"Can you put my pajamas on for me Darling?" He said with heavily slurred speech, rubbing his face with his arm.

"Tom, you don't wear pajamas in summer, just underwear," I laughed, kneeling on the bed next to him and undoing his belt.

"Exactly," he laughed, thinking his attempt at a joke was hilarious. I pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him in just a pair of Calvin Klein's and black socks. I put on one of his old t-shirts as a sleep dress type of thing and crawled into bed next to him.

"So uh, we don't have to talk about it tonight cos you're pretty drunk and it might let you get more sleep than usual, but will our lives change now that you're The Godfather?" I asked quietly, snuggling into his side and smiling to myself.

I have to admit, it's nice actually cuddling in bed again. Lately Tom has been out late with the boys drinking and distracting himself from his fathers death, so I've usually gone to bed before him and then woken up early for work. It's nice having him home for a change.

And if he wasn't so drunk I'd have initiated sex; another thing we haven't done since Dominic died.

"Tom? Did you hear- Oh," I said, realising he had already fallen asleep before answering my question.

I guess I'll have to wait and see whether or not our lives change drastically now that I'm dating The Godfather.