Page 26 of Goodnight, Sinners

Fatima looked at her. “You’ve been with Jozef for a while – .”

“Off and on,” Shaun cut in.

“I think you can consider yourself ‘on ‘ from now on. Are you actively trying to stop a baby from happening? You’re still young and you’re healthy. Eventually one will come along if you two are doing what I assume you’re doing.”

Shaun laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth while Cooper bit his lip and stared at the ceiling.

Fatima gave her an annoyed look. “You know where babies come from, right?”

“Okay, I get it!” Shaun said, still laughing. “I could get pregnant.”

“Well, you need to think about where you’re going to put the baby, both in the mansion and in your weekend apartment.”

“We don’t exactly live a safe life,” Shaun pointed out, sobering. “We’re standing in an apartment that was shot to pieces. It doesn’t seem quite right to bring a baby into the mix.”

Fatima shook her head. “This is your life now, and you’ve accepted that. There are plenty of places in this world that we wouldn’t consider safe, but babies are born every day. It’s the cycle of life.”

“I’m not sure the cycle of life should happen within the mafia,” Shaun admitted, though the thought of a baby growing inside her, created by her and Jozef, was incredibly tempting. “I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

“Well, you better figure it out. Babies have a way of happening when their parents don’t take steps to stop them.”

Shaun really didn’t want to talk to her mother about birth control. She was almost thirty-six. They’d had ‘the talk’ about twenty years ago and it had been just as cringe-worthy then as this conversation was now.

“I’ll think about a nursery, but not right now. For now, we’ll leave the spare room empty and concentrate on the main living area and bedroom.”

Leaving the subject of babies behind, they continued to come up with design ideas until Jozef came looking for Shaun to take her back home.

Chapter Thirteen

Shaun was busy clipping the dead roses and leaves from a bush in the rose garden when Atlas announced a visitor.

“There is a Dr. Elisa Cerný here to see Dr. Patterson. I’ve put her in the formal sitting room.”

Without waiting for a response, Atlas turned on his heel and left.

Shaun could only assume he was slithering back to whatever hole he spent his time in when he wasn’t springing visitors on Shaun. He disapproved of her, and nothing she said or did seemed to change his attitude. She supposed he didn’t see her as the proper rich lady of the household.

Jozef had hired him for his size and the air of deadliness swirling about him. Shaun believed he could back that air up. He certainly moved faster than he looked.

She sat back on her heels and dusted her hands on the thighs of her jeans before climbing to her feet. Shading her eyes, she looked out across the rose garden.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was trying to accomplish. She’d always been too busy with her work at the hospital to create and maintain a garden, but something drove her to take care of this one. To keep it alive and thriving, as if it could bring back the memory of the man who had spent so many hours tending it.

She did it for Jozef. He’d considered tearing it out as it was a constant reminder of his uncle, but she’d asked him to keep it. Maybe one day it would bring him more pleasure than pain.

She looked down at herself and thought about changing into something more presentable than a pair of dusty jeans and a dirt-streaked sweater. She’d left her coat and knit hat on the path when she’d gotten too hot from digging.

It was winter, but the roses were perennial and would come back in the Spring. She was tidying them while she had the chance. Jozef had told her it was unusual not to have snow on the ground at this time of year, but that it would come soon. The thought of snow made her miss home.

When she was a child, her father used to take her to the ice festival in Montreal, where they would tour the ice sculptures and play in the ice castle. She’d continued the tradition, even after her father’s passing. It helped keep his memory alive. Perhaps, one day, she would convince Jozef to visit Canada in the winter and experience the unique beauty of the snowy landscape.

She made her way from the garden, into the dining room and through to the formal sitting room, a five-minute walk that gave her enough time to straighten her clothes and smooth a hand over her hair.

Shaun had never heard of their guest, Dr. Elisa Cerný.

She paused for a second in the doorway of the sitting room, observing the woman. Not mafia, Shaun decided. Dr. Cerný was sitting on the edge of a plush couch, her legs neatly tucked beneath her, her hands in her lap, fidgeting with a folder.

“Hello,” Shaun greeted the other woman in halting Czech, stepping into the room. “Dr. Cerný, I’m Dr. Shaun Patterson.”

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