𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

39 | Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Being at home feels like going from a holiday to being back at a prison. A nice, expensive, semi-free prison. My body is still severely scratched, scraped and bruised so I can't really go into public. My split cheek bone still had butterfly strips holding it together as it heals so I can't get it wet. My voice is back which is the only good thing to this recovery, but I can barely even stand up from the fucking couch without wincing in pain.

We've been home for two days and Tom has gone straight back into work mode. His sleeping pattern is already ruined and he has been in and out of the house a million times. As he walks through the front door, I call out to him from the lounge room, where I'm wrapped up in a blanket watching television and eating half melted ice cream.

"Hey darling," he says leaning over the back of the couch to kiss my forehead before heading to the kitchen to heat up his dinner in the microwave. It's eleven thirty at night, he left just before midday.

He's exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and his eyelids hung low. He looks just as bad as I do. After heating up his dinner he comes back to the living room, sitting next to me and taking a deep breath.

"Rough day in the office sweetie?" I joke sarcastically, knowing his sigh meant he was stressed out.

"We have this job in a few days that's a few hours away but I've already booked in to see someone else and I don't think I'd make it in time to pull it off," he groaned.

"Can't someone else just do it?" I said pulling the spoon out of my mouth to speak.

"Has to be someone who they'd trust can make decisions on behalf of me. Which is like... Haz. My brothers... Not even my brothers, it's basically just me or Haz for this situation," he said taking the spoon from my hand and getting a mouthful for himself.

Tom had insisted on Haz having a proper break for his honeymoon, turning off his phone and not responding to any mafia related requests. Most of the time, the mafia men never took breaks, the mafia was their priority after all. But Tom pushed for Haz and Robyn to actually enjoy their honeymoon.

This meant that Tom had kind of screw himself over in more ways than one.

"Why don't I just do it for you? The godfathers girlfriend would be senior enough right? They'd trust you'd be across the deal if I was the one who went," I asked nonchalantly.

Tom laughed.

"You're not being serious are you? Darling... Come on," he smiled.

"What? I don't understand why you're laughing at me. Why can't I do it?" I said screwing my face up.

"Well I dunno... I guess cos like- They wouldn't respect you- I mean... You're a woman, I don't want you getting hurt or anything Darling," he stuttered, trying desperately to find the words to say.

"Did you seriously just start to say they wouldn't respect me because I'm not a fucking man?" I scoffed, sitting up straight to look at him directly.

"No I just- I just think the job would be done a lot smoother if I just did it myself," he said apologetically.

"Oh, because you're a man?" I spat.

"Because I'm the godfather," he snapped.

We sat looking at each other in silence for a lingering second too long before Tom turned back to face the television, asking if he could 'just relax a bit after a long day of work before getting into an argument', which set me off even further.

"Fuck this. I'm going to bed," I mumbled, pushing the blanket off my legs and standing up off the couch.

"You know the number one rule in relationships is to never go to sleep angry," he called out annoyed, as I started to leave the lounge room.

"No, the number one rule is to not be a sexist asshole and to put a little fucking belief into the fact your girlfriend is just as powerful as a man... If not more," I said back at him before walking up the stairs.

Crawling into bed felt uncomfortable, knowing that downstairs Tom was sitting smugly watching Netflix thinking I couldn't do a mafia job because I was a woman. Nikki had talked about how a Godmother's role was to make the man look good which I thought was fucked up enough, but hearing Tom elude towards it really hurt.

As tears formed in my eyes, anger formed in my mind. I couldn't help but to feel like Tom didn't have faith in me as his girlfriend, or faith in me as a mafia member. I took the same oath as anyone else in this group. Yes, I may be new, yes I may be inexperienced but I took out the most prolific gangster in our fucking country.

Alone.
I killed Jack Maniscalo, alone.

Tom stood in the doorway and leant against the frame, sighing loudly and looking at me crying in bed. I didn't want to look at him, I didn't know if I could without bursting into some sort of rage.

"Darling, I'm sorry... Can I come to bed?" He said gently.

"Sorry for what?" I said glancing up at him.

"I'm sorry that I won't let you do the job," he continued.

"Excuse me?"

"I meant what I said downstairs, the job wouldn't go smoothly if you went instead of me. I'm not being sexist, I'm just saying the facts that they would respect The Family more if a man showed up. They'd take advantage of you because you're a woman, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let you go on a job like that. These are dangerous people darling," he said walking closer and sitting on the end of the bed.

I stared at him in disbelief. This was his apology? Reiterating his opinion and hope I sided with him?

"Jack Maniscalo was a dangerous person and I think I handled him pretty well I'd say," I remarked.

Tom sighed.

"And I'm not discrediting you for that. I know you're capable of doing these things but these guys are partnering with us on a really big deal. I don't want to blow it by not getting their complete trust," he said.

"So you're saying that I can't handle the bigger, more important jobs... That I'd blow it for you... Right, yeah I'm sleeping in the guest room," I scoffed, grabbing the pillow from behind me and getting out of bed.

"Y/N, seriously can you just calm down and think for a second? I've been doing this a long fucking time and I know how this shit works," Tom said grabbing my hand.

"So you should know that a woman can do any job a man can do," I huffed. His grip was firm, not in a possessive or angry way, more in a fearful way, as if he was scared of me leaving.

"And they can! It's just- It's just not the same," he groaned.

I loosened his grip from my hand and shook my head, rolling my eyes as he begged me to come back to bed. When I ignored him and walked down the hallway, he snapped.

"You've killed two fucking people Y/N. Congrats! Well I've killed over two hundred and it's taken me fucking years to gain the respect I have. I actually understand how this business works, I don't just show up and get lucky with my kills," Tom scoffed, yelling out down the hall.

"Wow Tom. That's so impressive! You've killed almost as many people as you've slept with! Sorry I'm not as experienced as the great and holy Godfather!" I yelled back sarcastically, although my voice was thick with anger.

Going to the guest room I slammed the door hard enough for him to hear but not hard enough to sound like a tantrum throwing teenager.

The spare bed is cold and empty, but I'd prefer it to sleeping with a sexist misogynistic asshole right now.