Page 127 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby
She notices the chip in the rim and says it gives the glass character.
I tell her the chip gives the glass a story and she tells me to stop trying to sound charming.
I tell her I’m not trying.
Later, she stands in the bedroom doorway and looks at the bed like it's a question on paper.
“If I stay here,” she says, “you stop telling me what I can’t do every hour on the hour.”
“I stop when you’re safe,” I say. “And when you tell me to shut up.”
She steps closer.
“Shut up,” she says.
“Done,” I say.
She lifts her shirt a little and slides my hand to where the kid will be a person.
It feels like warmth and promise and trouble. She holds my eyes.
“My job,” she says quietly. “I hear you.”
“Thank you,” I say.
We work the lists before bed. Doctor appointment set for Friday with Dr. Conte and the private pediatrician she trusts for the first consult after.
A code word for her mother.
A second for the bakery if we need to lock it down.
Two people who must know now.
No one else.
She falls asleep on the couch before the news can tell us anything new.
I read the paper to the room under my breath because my father used to do that when I was small and the sound puts me back together.
Rafe texts that the SUV circled twice and then left the grid.
Tino found the knife on the hospital floor where security kicked it.
Alvarez sent a two-word message—Handled,quietly.
I stand by the window and watch the slice of sky.
The city still wants what it has always wanted.
Money. Silence. A target.
I put my hand on the wall where the stairs run and listen for her breath. It’s steady.
I don’t know if I deserve the life that’s climbing toward us inch by inch.
I know how to hold a door.
I’m going to hold this one.
