Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
The smile that breaks out on Derek’s face, and the warm fluttering feeling that spreads into my chest at the sight of it, helps me to make my decision. When I come back from seeing my father, I’m going to see if Derek wants to give us a chance.
First, I have to deal with going home.
It almost feels wrong to think of it as home. When I first left New York, twelve weeks pregnant, and scared out of my mind, I thought about going home nearly every day. I dreamed about it. Eventually, the thoughts of going home faded. I would think about it weekly when I would call home and have stilted, uncomfortable conversations with my father. It turned into a monthly thing. Soon, the thoughts would only arise on special occasions, and I stopped thinking of it as home. My house in Kansas felt more like a home. At least I know I’m welcome here.
I shoot off a quick text to Melissa, the woman who normally picks Matteo up from preschool with her son, and let her know I’ll pick him up and we’ll be out of town for a few days. My hands are shaking as I pack our bags. Since I don’t know how long we’re going to be there, I pack too much. Besides, traveling with a child always means needing more than you think.
I’ll be fine.
I think.
Chapter Thirteen- Enzo
Fucking airports.
There are very few places I hate as much as airports. They have the worst-designed road systems with cars weaving in and out with little concern for oncoming traffic. Pedestrians lose all sense of self-preservation. They walk out into the middle of the street with no concern for their life. Andy offered to be the one to pick them up since he knows my disdain for airports, but like hell I’m going to let anyone else see them before me.
I'm not staying away for one more minute.
Andy sent me her flight information as soon as she sent it to him. He told her he’d be sending a car for her, which isn’t a lie. I’m here with a car, but I’m sure I’m not what she’s expecting. Compromises are being made on both ends here, even if she doesn’t realize it. She is going to have to face me, the man who she stole the first four years of our child’s life from, and I’m driving a mid-size SUV instead of my favorite sports car.
Compromise.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down at the text from Andy.
She’s getting her checked items and then she’ll meet you. Still doesn’t know it’s you, only knows I’ve sent a car.
I don’t reply to him. I set my eyes on the door, waiting for them to come out.
There’s a traffic enforcement officer who has been eyeing me for the past couple of minutes, probably because I have been in the pickup lane for too long. I can almost see him trying to work up the nerve to ask me to move or to circle and come back when my person is ready to be picked up.
I shoot him an icy glare, and all the confidence he built up disappears in an instant. He pulls his lips back into a tight smile and he looks away from me. Smart kid, I think to myself, trust those instincts.
A second text message comes to my phone, this time from my mom.
Your father said I need to leave you guys alone for tonight so Emma and Matteo can settle, and you have a chance to work things out as a family. I expect to see you ALL tomorrow morning for breakfast.
I roll my eyes at the text, but a small, fond smile creeps onto my lips. I accidentally told my mom about Matteo this morning. She and my father rarely keep secrets from each other, not outside business. And my mom didn’t want to know those secrets. She hadn’t been born into a world of crime. All she did was fall in love with a man. She married him with all his faults and his inherited spot as the head of the Lombardi Famiglia.
Thinking my father had already told her about Matteo, I had casually mentioned I needed to go to the airport to pick up my child and future wife. She about damn near had a heart attack in the kitchen.
She cursed me out, threatened both my and my father’s life for not telling her immediately, and then took off in dad’s favorite sports car with his credit card so she could prepare the house for her grandbaby.
Oh, and she called Caterina to follow behind her in the minivan. There wouldn’t be nearly enough room in the two-seater sports car for how much she intends on buying.
Taking my father’s prized Bugatti to Target was probably the smallest of the punishments she would dole out after we kept her in the dark about this revelation. I had swung by my father’s office before I left to let him know. The look of horror on his face let me know how much trouble we were truly in.