Page 144 of Mafia and Gold Digger

I thought that I meant something to him. That for once, someone saw and wanted the real me: the Emerald who just wants to be loved for who she is.

But that’s a pipe dream.

I know that now.

A sob racks my body, and I feel Jacquetta come back and put her arms around me. But it only makes me cry harder.

Why am I not enough?

Why can’t I ever be enough?

I want to scream those questions to anyone who’ll listen. But, instead, I huddle into Jacquetta’s embrace.

Eventually, my heart will stop bleeding, and it’ll stop feeling like Saint’s torn me to shreds from the inside out.

And when I finish crying, I’ll figure out my next steps.

For my siblings. For the baby beneath my fingers. For myself.

I have to.

I lean into Jacquetta as she hugs me tightly, letting my eyes drift close.

I’ve survived so much.

But trying to survive Saint is ripping my heart out.

CHAPTERFORTY-THREE

SAINT

It’s already evening. I spent all of last night and most of today trying to come up with some way to fix this.

If it’s even fixable.

The house is too quiet. Too still and sucked of life that it pushes into my chest. I haven’t slept since she left. Since Christian told me she was with Jacquetta and asked me about a hundred questions. All of which I ignored.

I sit in the foyer, my head slumped in my hands. Every so often, my gaze flickers between the clock and the door. She has to come home soon, right? They all do. They can’t stay away any longer.

She belongs here.

The kids belong here.

Our baby belongs here.

With me.

Not in some house where I’m not. But here with me. Filling the house with sounds of laughter and conversation.Making it feel like home.

My hand curls into a fist.

The clock chimes, and I glare at it.

I want the house filled with warmth and happiness. I want the kids here. I want this baby. More than anything, I want Emerald.

But fixing what I broke? I don’t even know how to begin putting that right, and the thought has dread swimming through me.

IneedEmerald. It’s not a want anymore. She’s wormed her way so completely into my life that I can’t get her out of my head if last night’s fitful sleep is any indication. The smell of her shampoo lingering on the pillow haunted me, the pain in her voice running through my mind on repeat.

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