The Mafia Boss

Ch. 5: I would never leave you, Imogen!

I find Maeve sat on her father's couch; Torin the subject of her latest makeover. He's watching her as she applies pretend blush to his cheeks, in awe of her cautious execution.

"What's your favourite colour, Daddy?"

His eyes widen as she calls him that, but Maeve doesn't notice.

"Umm—I don't have one," he admits.

"Everyone has a favourite colour," she responds, applying fake mascara. "If you tell me yours, I can put that colour on your eyes."

"Umm...black."

I roll my eyes.

"Black!" shrieks Maeve, completely bewildered. "I don't think I have that in my collection."

She miss-pronounces collection and it makes me smile. Even Torin lifts his lips a fraction.

"You can borrow my favourite colour if you like?"

He nods.

"It's yellow!"

"Why yellow?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I dunno."

She crawls onto his lap to apply some invisible eyeshadow and in doing so, almost falls to the floor. Torin quickly wraps his arms around her waist, Maeve completely oblivious to the efforts he's going to. He watches her with one eye, making sure to keep the one she's working on closed, per her orders.

Mommy, look!" squeals Maeve, noticing me stood in the doorway.

She shows me her picture from earlier. It's a cluster-fuck of colours, but I regard it like Picasso himself drew it.

"That's wonderful!" I tell her.

She carries on with her work, still situated on Torin's lap. Both of his hands are by his side, at least an inch away from Maeve. He chews his bottom lip, seemingly at war with his emotions.

"I hope she was good for you."

"She was," he replies, unable to make eye contact.

Maeve suddenly hops off Torin's lap and resumes her place on his desk, keen to finish her drawing.

"You can do this more often if you like?" I offer. "Spend time with her."

He sighs, and I do everything in my power not to yell at him.

"Imogen—"

"Just think about it," I plead. "She's yours."

"She's not mine," he argues, at odds with himself. "You took that away from me the night you left."

This again.

"I thought you were dead," I say through gritted teeth. "What would you have done in my position?"

"I would never leave you, Imogen!"

Maeve looks up, catching onto our tone. I refuse to let her be a bystander to our bickering and shoot her a quick, reassuring smile.

"So, you're going to punish her for my mistakes?"

"You admit you made a mistake, then?" he snaps.

"Yes, of course it was a mistake," I say, purposely keeping my volume low. "I loved you, Torin. I was fucking devastated when I thought you were dead."

"Thought," he exaggerates.

I can defend my actions until I'm blue in the face, and still, he wouldn't see reason. His pain and anger are clouding both his logic and kindness.