A Dirty Pool Outtake: Bygones

Hey, loves!

We're back for another outtake and this one is for Michel and Gabbie. I pulled this from the form and there was actually two outtakes request in one for this one. 

So just a quick note to the reader who asked for this - the first request was that I write the scene of Michel and Gabbie telling Cat and Dante everything about Detroit. I didn't write that in the book because I didn't want to - I just wrote the whole book, it would have been a summarization of the plot but done in dialogue with a few what the and why the fucks thrown in from Dante and Catrina for good measure. Basically. 

There's a reason why I didn't write it in the book, and it's the same reason I didn't write that part of this outtake request. Instead, you are getting the other part of the request, and so I hope that's just as good because I thought that would be an interesting scene.

Okay, onto the outtake.

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A Dirty Pool Outtake - Bygones

Dante POV

Dante stayed as still as a statue, staring at the landline phone on the corner of his desk, while his wife flew back in forth outside the office doorway. It was like for the moment, with the news she had learned, Dante didn't exist to her. She had other things to worry about right then, and he really didn't take offense to it.

He had things on his mind, too.

Things like that phone.

And a call he should probably make.

"Yes, yes, he's coming!" A pause came from his wife and he looked up to see her pass by his office again, but this time with a phone at her ear. Was she talking to someone in their family? Maybe a friend of hers? Catherine, even? Someone. Someone that she cared enough about to let them know she was excited. "I'm grabbing our bags now, and we're heading over to the hospital to be there with her ... no, Dante called Michel; he's got a situation to handle with a bad accident that happened--a bridge collapsed? Yeah, it's not good but of course, that's Michel and you can't talk him out of that hospital if he thinks he's needed. Not that it's a bad thing, you know."

His wife's voice faded the further she went down the hall. Once again, he couldn't see her through the office doorway. Another door clicked shut, and her voice cut off entirely, letting him know that she had disappeared into their master bedroom to finish grabbing their things and probably end her conversation.

It meant he had to hurry up here.

Make a choice.

Soon, his wife would be back and he would have to leave this space. Not only would he not have the number then that he needed to call, but he also didn't think that was the sort of phone conversation that should happen while they raced into the city to wait for the birth of their first grandchild.

Not just your first grandchild, his mind reminded.

Right.

Like he needed the extra memo.

Dante knew.

Which was exactly why he was still sitting there at his desk like a fucking idiot after being told his first grandchild ever--his grandson--would finally be making his way into the world. Because despite something being the right choice, that didn't always mean that it was also the easy choice. Those two things were not always mutually exclusive.

Not that it changed what Dante needed to do.

Nothing made a difference to that.

Instead, he pulled on the wisdom his father had shared with him time and time again throughout his long life. He thought about Antony, and what he would have done in a situation like this, and while the answer he already knew didn't change ... it strengthened his resolve to do what had to be done.

Dante had just reached for the phone after pulling out a drawer in his desk when the voice of his wife echoed from the office doorway. He didn't even look up from where he searched for the black book with every phone number he might ever need hidden safely beneath its leatherbound cover.

"What are you doing?" Catrina asked.

Dante let out a slow breath, flipping page after page. The name and number would be near the end, he knew. A favor from a friend--that's how he got it in the first place, even if that meant Dante owed somebody else a favor now and he hated being in anyone's debt. He'd just the number just once before. Made a single call to the man the number belonged to so that he could be sure ...

"Calling Charles Casey," Dante said.

Catrina quieted in the doorway.

Dante let her have those few seconds while he finally found the number. His fingers hovered over the keypad but didn't press down. Instead, he looked to his wife.

"Do you think you should do that?" she asked.

"It's been ten years. He's not had more children--the man is never going to remarry, Catrina. He lost a woman once ... it would be like me losing you. There's no moving on. He didn't replace the things he lost, including his daughter. This baby isn't just our first grandchild, and I think the offer should be put out. If you think differently, please let me know why now."

"I just ... maybe you should tell Michel, let him decide."

"It's not about Michel, and he will understand that."

Catrina chewed on her inner cheek. "You're going to do it one way or another, won't you?"

"I would appreciate your support, though."

"Right." Catrina nodded. "Of course. And I'll be downstairs when you're ready to leave."

"I love you, Cat."

She smiled. "Oh, you know how much I love you, bello."

He did.

Always and forever.

Once his wife had gone, Dante punched the numbers into the phone and picked up the receiver to put it against his ear. He thought about that first call he'd made to this number, how his hands had shaken more than they should because he had been pissed and nervous--two things he didn't want to be.

But it had been his son.

His kid.

"Are you going to come here--are you coming after him?" was all Dante had asked Charles Casey after he explained who he was. "Give me the respect of telling me at least. Let me protect my boy when I have the chance to because he won't let me otherwise."

Charles had simply replied, "No, I’m not coming for the lad."

"Casey here," came a jovial accent on the other end.

Dante drew in a quick breath, coming back to the present and his reality and straight out of the past in a blink. "Charles--it's been a long time, Irishman."

It took the man a second.

Then, two.

"You feckin' Italians."

Dante almost smiled.

"What do ye want, Marcello?"

"It's been ten years hasn't it--a long time. Gabbie's a lawyer now, yeah? Probably one of the top five defense attorneys in this state, and she's not even been part of the bar more than a handful of years. You should be proud, Charles."

The man on the other end cleared his throat. "Is she?"

"Took that dream from her Ma, I heard."

"She did. That doesn't tell me what you want."

"I appreciate you never made trouble for me and mine here. I never got the chance to tell you that."

“And I'm sure," Charles replied drily, "that you didn't call today to do it, either."

"You're right. I called to tell you Gabbie is giving birth. Her first child. A boy. I thought you might like to come to New York and say hello. Catch up."

The man on the end went quiet.

Dante gave him a moment before he added, "The longer you take to apologize, the harder it will be for her to forgive you. Oh, I'm sure she's forgiven you for herself ... but that's not you, is it? You've not heard her forgiveness given to you. I bet it's a lonely life you live. Most of your family's gone now--lucky bastard you are to have lived through all of this, but for what ... for what, Charles, when you're living alone. I am extending you the chance to no longer do that. Please, accept."

"And what's the strings, Marcello?"

"The past."

"What about it?"

"It stays there, Charles."

It took the man all of a half of a second to reply.

"I give me word, Marcello."

"You can call me Dante. All my family does."

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