Every Year

PROLOGUE

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17 years ago...

Taking a moment I glance around the waiting room, before I continue pacing across the white tile, the heels of my newly bought black corthay shoes making a loud click every step I make. The sterile sound is taunting me with empty hopes for the future.

I can't believe the love of my life is giving birth on New Years eve.

Checking my watch I see it's nearly midnight. Huh, wouldn't that be something... my baby born at exactly midnight.

I wish Sandra would've wanted to know the gender of our baby, or at least allowed me in the delivery room.

My love, all alone, in so much pain makes me itch with impatience. I just want to hold her. I want to see her again, I can't take the guilt of knowing I can just sit here, while the love of my fucking life is in that hospital room in agonizing pain.

"You wanna sit down, my friend?"

My head jerks toward Coleman Luciano, he's a wealthy business man known everywhere for his investments and intellect among machinery and new technology sweeping the current markets. His family is old money. Generational wealth, that has come from a lot of places and a lot of people.

There have even been rumors of his ties to things not fully admitted as legal in the United States...

However true, I'm not sure.

In contrast to Coleman, I don't have a trust fund that got me going, a father that taught me the tips and tricks of investing or a grandfather to show me the way of the family business. I got here through ideas, and a costly education.

"Can't." I give in short, eyes scraping across his tan content face and the whiskey glass in his hand to the wall, then window, looking out across skyscrapers alight with snow flurrying slowly past the window pane.

The sky's so clear tonight.

Well aside from the ever present smog that covers New York. I can see the sliver of a crescent moon, gleaming above the skyline.

"I will if that's not your only glass." I turn my back to the floor to ceiling window wall of the top floor waiting room and nod towards the whiskey in his hand.

Wordlessly he sets the glass on the side table and gestures to the left of him to an open chair. His black carved eyebrows raise in anticipation of me, brown almost black eyes widening expectantly.

"You look like you need it more than me, brother." he mumbles after I stride over to the chair and plop myself down.
I grip the glass in front of me and take a large gulp of the amber liquid. It burns so good and the after taste would usually make me cringe but I only show it with a sharp inhale through my flared nostrils as I relish in the sting.

I may be taking this a bit too hard, but we had enough fertility issues as it was, the pregnancy was bad and doctors told us the outlook wasn't good. Still, though, we defied the odds and now she was back there. Without me. I had to sit here like a bum waiting to see if our baby was okay, or even if my wife was okay.

"First one?" Coleman asks me shifting back to sit up straighter and crossing one leg over his knee.

He's tall, very tall. Probably the same height as me. I'm around 6'5" and usually tower over everyone I meet.

I chuckle at him as I take a sip of the drink and glance at him quickly before returning my gaze to the floor.

"Yeah."

"It gets easier, don't even sweat it. Your wife's in good hands." he tries to reassure me, I don't correct him and tell him our messy history with conception, or how hard it's been for her to cope with the miscarraiges and doctors promising things they shouldn't just so we'll throw money at them.