Page 103 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
Some relationships stay broken, no matter how badly you want to fix them.
No matter what I thought about the Andrettis in the past, it’s clear to me that this family loves each other fiercely, completely. I’m lucky to be a part of it.
“I’m afraid I can’t make it tonight,” Lorenzo says. “I’ve got...something to take care of.”
His tone is vague, but I’m used to that by now. There are corners of their world I’ll never see, and that’s okay. But Dario’s frowning, a crease appearing between his brows, and I suspect that whatever Lorenzo’s up to, he didn’t share it with his son. That’s...interesting.
Maybe it has to do with the Bratva. That war is far from over. Dario hasn’t said much, but I can tell it’s still unfolding. He’s made it clear I should never go anywhere alone again, and I’ve accepted that.
Yeah, I already learned that lesson the hard way.
Trust issues? Party of one.
But I don’t mind Dario’s protective nature anymore. It reminds me that I’m loved more than I ever have been in my life. I have someone who will never abandon me like my parents did. Someone who would kill for me—quite literally, as it turns out.
That’s not frightening. That’s security. And if the price for that kind of devotion is a bodyguard in the grocery store parking lot, I’ll take it. Especially now that I’m a mother.
The boys must be safe. Always.
We talk for a bit, and Lorenzo kisses my cheek before he leaves, the gesture as natural as if he’d been doing it my whole life.
About half an hour later, Dr. Kuran comes in to give the twins their final exam. Her voice is calm, steady, and professional, but I swear I’ve never hung on someone’s words so hard in my life.
It doesn’t take long. She checks vitals, weight, reflexes. All of it. Then she smiles and tells us she’ll be back shortly with the discharge papers.
I nearly cry right then and there.
I dress the boys in matching onesies—one red, one blue—and I don’t even try to hide my obsession with how adorable they look. I snap a photo, heart practically bursting, and send it to Rosa with the caption;they’re coming home.
When we finally make it to the car, both boys strapped in and sleeping soundly, a wave of emotion crashes over me so hard I have to close my eyes and breathe through it.
Every single day that we left this hospital without them felt wrong. Like I was walking away missing pieces of myself.
But that chapter’s over now.
I glance across the car and find Dario gripping the steering wheel like the twins might come loose if he hits a bump too hard. We haven’t even left the parking lot yet.
Then abicyclistpasses us.
I stare. I blink. And then I laugh so hard I nearly choke.
“Are you serious right now?”
Dario doesn’t answer. He flicks on the hazard lights and continues driving like he’s got royalty in the backseat.
Which, to be fair, he kind of does.
It’s maybe the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen, and it makes me fall in love with him all over again. Not for being dangerous. Not for being powerful.
For being gentle.
By the time we pull into the driveway, the boys are still asleep, faces peaceful and round and flushed. They’re perfect. And I’m so ready to be home.
We carry them inside—slowly, reverently—and place them in their cribs after a fresh diaper change. They barely stir. Just a few sleepy grumbles and tiny hand flails before they settle again.
Dario and I stand there for a long time, just watching them.
I lean into his chest, and he wraps his arm around my waist. My head rests against his shoulder, and I let myself breathe.
