Page 21 of In It for the Long Ride

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes against the burn of another bout of tears.

“I never told you about the father.”

He remained quiet, as he often did, giving me room to unburden myself.

“The reason I couldn’t marry him was because he was at war.”

He flinched ever so slightly, but ultimately nodded.

“Did he even know you were pregnant?”

I sucked in another violent breath.

“I wrote to him. I told him… but–” I hiccupped and struggled to catch my breath as I fought the emotions that I’d repressed for so many years. “He never opened the damned letters.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth, shocked by my own language in front of Father Barnetti.

He put a tender hand on my shoulder.

“So, he never knew?”

“He still has the unopened letters. What if he opens them? What if he hates me? What if–?”

“Daisy,” he whispered. “You must let go of the past. It will haunt you, and right now you have too much in front of you to stare over your shoulder. Not only for your sake, but it is also necessary for Blaze.”

“I gave up on my soulmate because I thought he didn’t want me or that child.” I sobbed.

“Dear heart,” he quietly soothed. “How do you know that he has these letters? You’ve seen him?”

I nodded.

“Then you have the opportunity to communicate with him. Soulmate is a word that people throw around and few fullygrasp. If he is your soulmate then he will hear you. He will understand that you did the best you could with the choices God gave you. You did not abort his child, you placed it in adoption. He is still a father, and you are both young enough to enjoy life. If you are concerned about the child, I will make some inquiries. It is one of the benefits of being the one who arranged the adoption, you know? I can contact the priest who helped place your son, and an update could be given, or even a meeting, if you would care to and the boy is willing.”

“He isn’t a boy anymore. That was a long time ago.” I smiled.

“Yes. He would be an adult now, older than Eric even, you’re right,” Father Barnetti agreed.

The door that led to his private study opened on the other side of the chapel and another priest emerged.

“You think it over and let me know.” Father Barnetti quietly encouraged me, before raising his tone to a polite level. “Daisy, this is Father Joseph Petrillo. He is a dear friend of mine and will be joining me on a trip to the children’s hospital this weekend.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Daisy,” Petrillo politely chimed with a smile.

“You also,” I returned.

The big double doors opened in an abrupt manner, and we all turned to investigate.

Isabella Miller took a few steps inside, her stiletto heels clicking as she moved. The sound came to a stop when she drew close, and her expression steeled as she looked at Father Petrillo. Her dark eyes flashed with something I couldn’t put my finger on, but it was gone in a blink.

Her name was Isabella Miller because she married Makaveli Miller, the self-dubbed prince of the Steel Disciples. Prior to that she was Isabella Valentino, sister to the head of the Valentino Crime family. Blood to our enemy. As best I could grasp, it wasn’t a wedding she had wanted. Her brother arranged it in aneffort to control and spy on my nephew’s motorcycle club, but it had backfired on him. It turns out when you terrorize and abuse your own sister, even a lowly bastard like Mak could become a savior in her eyes.

“Good afternoon. Fathers, you’ll have to excuse us. Daisy is needed outside for a moment.” She didn’t wait for me to agree, or for them to move.

The girl shimmied her way down the aisle, teetering in her wild heels and grabbed my hand. She hefted me to my feet and was hissing in my ear all the way to the door.

“We have problems, Daisy. Big problems.” Her accent oozed over every word, despite her low tone. “My brother is at it again.”

I jerked my head toward her, all but praying it was some sick joke.

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