Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi

Весса.

I walked out of the lawyer's office feeling as though I were floating somewhere outside myself. Everything just seemed so... surreal.

James was carrying Alessandro. But then I had a sudden need to hold the child, as though physically having him in my arms could protect us all from having him taken away. Woodenly, I held out my arms for Alessandro.

"Becca... are you sure?" James asked.

I nodded, and James carefully passed the one-year-old over. Alessandro blinked dark eyes up at me, completely unaware of the dangerous game that was going on around him. Unaware of the dangerous games that had been going on around him.

"James, I can't lose him," I whispered. "If the judge says I can keep him, but I have to go away from you... I will."

"I know," James said without judgment. He put a hand at my back, but I pulled away.

"Everything's gone wrong, and every time it does, there you are right in the middle of it," I spoke sternly. "Why is it that you keep f*cking up my life? Our lives?!"

James frowned. "Becca, that's not entirely fair."

"Oh yeah? What's 'fair,' then? Grooming Alessandro to be a mafia don or maybe having Russians descend on my home in New Zealand—"

"That was Neal's fault, not mine," James said angrily.

"And Tally? What about Tally?" I replied in a harsh tone.

James scowled. "Don't you dare bring my daughter into this. Of course, I feel guilty over what happened to Tally. Do you think I don't? Do you think I don't beat myself up every day over it?" "You should!" I shouted.

People on the sidewalk began giving us a wider berth, staring at us incredulously.

James shook his head. "You're not in any fit state of mind to have this conversation. I'll see you at the car." He strode away from me, knowing full well that "the boys" were surrounding us at a discreet distance.

I'd upset him so much, however, that he began to cross against the light, and a taxi came zooming towards him.

"JAMES!" I shouted, running towards him.

With the bumper merely inches from James's legs, one of "the boys" appeared and hauled him back.

Alessandro began fussing, not understanding what was going on but able to sense that something was wrong.

I went to James, who still looked bewildered, and pressed into his side. "James, what the hell were you thinking?!"

James looked down at me and Alessandro and shrugged, regaining his composure. "I suppose I wasn't."

"I" I began.

"Let's just go home, Becca," James said.

"Home? Italy?" I asked. "But they're taking our passports-"

"Scarsdale. Let's go." James almost roughly directed me across the crosswalk once the light turned and escorted me into the black sedan that was waiting for us on the other side.

My heartbeat was still erratic, but Alessandro had calmed down with a little bouncing. "James-?"

"Not now, Becca," James snapped. He rubbed a hand over his face. "I just... can't... right now."

I swallowed. "Okay."

It took about an hour to get to the beautiful, large, colonial mansion in Scarsdale that James had either bought or rented. I didn't know which, and I couldn't ask him, given the mood I'd put him in. When the car stopped, James hopped right out and stalked away from Alessandro and I, two of "the boys" trailing behind him.

I blinked tears from my eyes and got out of the sedan with a little help from "the boys" to get Alessandro and I out upright.

"He'll be in his study, ma'am," one of "the boys" said, trying to be helpful.

I nodded, but I was fairly certain he didn't want to see me. Not right now.

Inside the house was just as gorgeous and tasteful as the outside. I took a long staircase upstairs to get to my room, which had a connecting door to the nursery. Both were already set up.

I noticed that James had not put his things in my room. I wondered if that was a recent decision, or if he'd done that in deference to my lingering misgivings.

There was an alphabet mat on the floor in Alessandro's nursery, so I set him down on it and then sat down myself, finally removing my heels. Alessandro squealed in delight when he found there were also Duplos to play with, and he began puzzling himself some strange zig-zag creation.

James did not make an appearance the rest of the day. I spent the entirety of the day with Alessandro, playing with him, making sure he ate, singing him to sleep. After I put him down for the night, the guilt had eaten a hole in me big enough to drive a truck through. I went to find James.

"Niccolo?" I asked one of "the boys." "Do you know where James is?"

"Don Valentino is still in his office, Ms. Woods," Niccolo said.

"Thank you." I started one direction down the hall, but Niccolo cleared his throat delicately and pointed the other way.

I went to the door that was open just a crack with light shining out of it. Through the crack, I could see James sitting in a chair, tumbler in hand, with some amber liquid in it.

"James?" I said, pushing open the door. "I... I wanted..."

"What Do you want, Becca?" James asked, his eyes red-rimmed. I didn't know if it was the alcohol or if he'd actually been crying.

"I... wanted to say I'm sorry..." I wrung my hands. "I said terrible things..."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Becca," James sighed, leaning his head back on the chair.

I lowered my eyes. "I know."

James gestured for me to sit in the chair across his desk.

I perched awkwardly on the edge of it, staring down at my hands.

"Are you ready to talk?" James asked.

"I... I don't know..." I admitted.

James rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You need to get there soon, Becca. I know you're tired of being yo-yoed around, but so am I. I'm very tired of fighting with you, Becca, and being the root of all your problems. You can't blame me for everything all the time."

"Well, you did cause a lot of..." I trailed off, hearing myself for the first time. I sounded like a complete b*tch, and worse, a child.

"I know I caused a lot of trouble. I know Tally's death is my fault. But I'm trying, Becca. I really am trying," James said.

"It...." I licked my lips. "It wasn't fair of me to say Tally's death was your fault. It's nobody's fault but the man who pulled the trigger. You didn't know that was going to happen."

James looked at me over the rim of his tumbler, shocked at my words. "Pardon?"

"And Italy..." I fidgeted my hands in my lap. "You saved us by taking us to Italy. Neal even said so."

"Don't tell me that prick has been in contact again," James growled.

I shook my head. "No. What he said right before you showed up. That I should and would trust you... that was right."

"Is that all you have to say?" James asked after I was silent for a while.

"No." I took a deep breath, my eyes stinging with tears. "You could have died today, for real, this time, and I remembered what my life was like without you in it."

"And?" James prompted.

"I..." I looked up at him. "I don't ever want that to happen again."

James rocked in his office chair, staring at the wall. "So, how do you plan to accomplish that?"

"I don't understand," I said, frowning.

James looked back at me. "How do you plan to not lose me?"

Oh F*CK. "D-Did I lose you?" I wheezed.

"Not yet." James sighed and closed his eyes. "But sometimes, Becca, you make it very f*cking hard to stay in love with you. And I know you could say the same about me."

Hurt stabbed me through the heart. "Couples are all like that. They fight, and they get over things. And then they find new things to argue about. But they stay a team. And they love each other. And the good times outweigh the bad." "Do they?" James asked.

"Do they what?" I responded, trying to follow the track of his thoughts. It occurred to me he might be a little drunk. Not so drunk that he didn't know or mean what he was saying, but drunk enough to be this honest with me. "Do the good times outweigh the bad? With us?" James replied.

I tried to swallow past a lump in my throat. "I don't know," I said honestly, "but I'd like them to. I'd like for us to have that chance."

James nodded and stared at the wall again. "Me, too."

I was so relieved I could have melted into a puddle right there on the chair. "Okay, so, we work on it. We... we give it a real shot. I stop blaming you for everything. You keep honest and open communication with me. We... we just see where this goes. I love you, James."

"I love you, too," James said. He set his tumbler down and turned to face me. "I'm in-one hundred percent, Becca. One hundred percent. There is nothing in this world more important to me than you and the kids. But I can't be in it by myself. You understand?"

With a small sob, I reached across the desk and took his hand. "I'm in. One hundred percent."

James searched my eyes. I hoped mine were filled with the same determination I felt.

"Good," James responded. He tugged on my hand, and I went around the desk to sit in his lap, curling up and snuggling my head up under his chin.

James swiveled the chair slowly back and forth slightly, and dropped a kiss on my hair. "I won't tell anyone if you decide you need to cry."

The need to cry had become a ball of sickness in my stomach. When was the last time I'd cried? Had I ever fully mourned the loss of my new life in New Zealand? Or this situation with Alessandro? Or any number of little things that had just kept piling up since James had "died"?

"What if I don't stop?" I asked James softly.

"Then I'll be here through it with you," James replied.

My throat swelled closed. I wasn't sure I could speak past the strangled feeling of impending tears.

Finally, I buried my face in James's neck and started to sob.

James kept rocking us gently, back and forth, while I soaked one of his nice silk shirts with my tears.

I didn't remember falling asleep. I only knew I had when James laid me down on cool sheets. Blinking, I realized I was in my room, and that Alessandro was in the next room over, sleeping soundly.

James toed off his shoes and got into bed as well, spooning me from behind. I put my arms over his around me and closed my eyes again.

Somehow, just in this small moment, everything felt as though it was going to be okay.