Promise

Chapter 3: Reach For The Stars

Christian

Damon groaned so loudly when he took a puff of his cigar, you'd think he was a teenage boy at a strip club for the first time.

"Pussy-whipped," Francis said pointedly, clipping his and lighting it up.

Ariadne didn't like cigars, and forbid Damon from smoking them in the house. So, we were sitting in the open gazebo in his backyard, armed with enough whiskey, vodka, and bourbon to drown a ship. Trust my spitfire sister to kick the king of the New York underworld out of his own home.

Damon smiled devilishly. "You of all people should know: happy wife, happy life." 

"Something Christian wouldn't know anything about," Francis nodded, his voice unapologetic. 

Everyone and their cousin wanted to see me get married. At 34, I was hardly getting younger. My friends were worried that if I wasn't careful, I would end up a little spinster woman in the 1950s, knitting or baking or whatever else it was they did.

"I'm ashamed to be semi-related to you. What happened to people I used to know?" I asked.

"We married your sisters," Damon deadpanned, twisting the wedding band on his finger. 

"I'd like a refund on our friendship," I played along.

"Sure," Francis smirked. "But just to be clear, that means you don't get to see Reyna."

I jerked my entire body up to glare at him. Doll was the highest thing on my very short list of good things in my fucking life right now and I would kill anyone, even Francis Duval, if he took her from me.

"Or your future godson," Damon tsked. "What a shame."

"Fine," I gritted. "If I have to put up with your shit just to see your children, I will do so begrudgingly."

"You could also have your own children," Francis suggested.

"And put Magnum out of business?" I drawled. "I'm not that much of an asshole."

"As touching as I find your commitment to the economy, don't think we don't know you haven't touched a woman in years."

How did they know that? My fists curled into themselves. Francis speared me with a wary look, forcing my hands to relax. I didn't need him worrying about me. He had a toddler at home and was married to Bella Ryder. That was more than enough stress on its own. 

"It's concerning that you're so invested in my sex life," I deadpanned. 

"Or lack thereof," Francis supplied. 

"We're not interested in your sex life," Damon countered, running a hand through his hair. "Just your life in general." 

"Only because our wives care, mind you," Francis defended.

I threw a pillow at him, even though I knew how deeply both of them cared about me. We just weren't really good at saying it out loud. 

"I'm not interested in marriage." 

"As a concept or because you haven't found the right person?" Francis pinned me with his stare, the same green eyes Reyna inherited. That girl would probably become a soul reader just like her father.

"There is no right person for me."

"I don't know about that," Damon murmured, leaning back to look up at the stars for a second. 

Of course, I knew who he was talking about.

There was only one thing in my entire life that I ever thought was perfect.