Page 145 of Mafia and Gold Digger

My heart races in my chest, and I rub at it to displace the feeling of helplessness, that uncomfortable sensation that feels like someone’s wrapped barbed wire around my heart and pulled it tight.

The door creaks open, and I leap up.

Jaspar and Giulietta race into the house. The moment both of them spot me standing awkwardly, they launch at me, wrapping their arms around my legs as they giggle and talk a mile a minute about the sleepover they had. And something warm seeps through me at the thought that at least Jaspar is no longer mad at me.

My eyes slip shut as I bend down to hug them properly, relishing in the comfort that spreads from them to me. Thawing that dead thing in my chest a little more. Milena gives a brief wave before heading up the stairs and taking the kids with her.

I stand absolutely still as I stare, waiting for Emerald to walk through the door.

One beat. Then another. Then another. And fear roots deep inside me.

She’s not coming.

I take a step but freeze when Emerald comes in, lugging a bag that looks to contain her wedding dress. She looks pale and exhausted. And yet, she still knocks the breath out of me.

My body moves without thinking, and I take the bag from her.

She avoids my gaze and moves past me into the house and up the stairs. I watch and let out a sigh of relief and dread, all at once.

Letting her walk out of my life isn’t an option. I need to show her I can do this. I need to prove to myself that I can do it. Because losing Emerald isn’t a possibility anymore.

I swallow and move up the stairs to check on the kids.

Giulietta hugs me again, and I hug her tightly back before she climbs onto her bed to play, her teddy bear family surrounding her. After a quick check-in with Milena and Jaspar, I slowly make my way down the hall. It feels like I’m wading through sludge, each step harder than the one before.

I push the door open and scan the room. I don’t know if she’s staying or leaving, and my heart drops like an out-of-control rollercoaster at the thought of it.

“Emerald?”

She emerges from the bathroom.

“Can we talk?”

“About what, Saint? Pretty sure we said it all already.”

Taking the few steps between us, I’m standing before her. “No. We didn’t.” My voice cracks slightly, and I clear my throat. “Just one conversation…”

Her eyes sweep over my face before she nods. “Fine.”

My chest expands slightly, and I nod to the bed before dragging a hand down the front of my face, feeling the two days’ worth of stubble. “Why did you keep it a secret, Em? Why did you keep the baby a secret?”

I can’t read the emotion in her eyes, but I can see the fresh sheen of tears. And the dead lump where my heart should be squeezes painfully. My hand twitches to reach out to her. Cup her cheek and tell her it’s going to be fine. But I don’t. Not yet.

She shrugs.

I look deep into her gaze. “I just want to understand.”

“I was scared, okay?”

Her words twist like a knife. “Of me?”

“It wasn’t…” She sighs. “It doesn’t matter.”

I want to argue, to push her to see that it does matter. She matters. But I can’t find the words, so I ask something else. A safe topic, I hope. “You started shoplifting again?”

“Yes. It was that onesie. But afterward, once the adrenaline wore off, I felt absolutely terrible about it. Really bad and ashamed of myself. And I sent the cash and a written apology to the store, but I know that doesn’t make up for what I did.”

“You stole again because of the baby?”

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