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“You can add new parts, baby,” she imagined Maggie saying. “But you can’t lose the parts of you that were already there.”
“What the hell’s wrong with this generation?” “Participation trophies,” Mercy said. “And Adderall.”
“Then take a good look, fillette.” Mercy’s eyes lifted to hers, and their intensity was unfathomable. “Because this is what it looks like when a man wants to be inside you.”
Mercy had crossed the line. Ava had either followed him, or invited him to come across it to her. Maggie felt the lump well up in her throat, the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes. It was so perfect, and it was so disastrous. And they’d be sliced to bits before it was all over.
“Break up with your boyfriend. That’s not a request.”
“It doesn’t count as cheating if it’s with me.” Her heart fluttered hard at that. “And yeah. Drop him. I won’t share you.”
“I didn’t raise you to be a slut.” She felt like she’d been slapped. She choked on her next breath. And then Mercy said, “No, you didn’t raise her at all.” Maggie clapped a hand to her throat, her eyes huge. “I did,” Mercy said. His voice had gone soft and Cajun-flavored, scary-calm. “I raised her. Don’t you dare blame her for loving me because of it.”
“I bet you can’t wait to have that little chickenshit Robbie sitting across from you every Thanksgiving.” “It’s Rodney,” Ghost corrected. “Is it?” “I…yeah. I think. Richie, maybe?” “Either way” – Mercy shook the hand off his arm – “I’m sure he’ll make you a great son-in-law.” He was four steps away when Ghost called after him: “You’re a goddamn asshole.” Mercy saluted him with a wave over his head.
Mercy shot a shit-eating grin across the foot of the table at Michael. “Oh, I dunno, boss. If Mikey wants to measure stuff…” “Hey,” Ghost said, “don’t make me think about your dick any more than I absolutely have to.”
Mercy grinned. “Do I smell a shotgun wedding? I’ve wanted to call you Daddy for so long now.” “Fuck you,” Ghost said, turning. “And stay with them till I get there.”
“He’s old enough and smart enough to know what he needs to do here; he just needs the right push from you.” She gave her mom a questioning look. “Make him reach for it,” Maggie said. “He owes you that.”
“So Merc,” Maggie said, voice too loud, plowing ahead with shoveled-on cheer. “Have you found a place yet?” He made a face as he cut into his chicken. “Nah. Haven’t really had a chance to look for one.” “Plenty of time for other things, though,” Ghost said. They ignored him.
you so much as give her a dirty look – you’ll be in a wheelchair. You touch her, and you’ll be in a pine box. Do you understand? I will fucking end you. Leave her alone.”
“My hair doesn’t like this humidity the way your hair does,” she said, sliding the strap of her cross-body purse over her head. “It takes some sweet-talking.” He leaned over, pressed his face into the top of her head and whispered something in French. “There. It’s been sweet-talked. Let’s go.”
