Page 71 of Mafia Fire

“I’m homesick because a home is the people inside of it. When it was just you and me, this was home. But we’ve grown, Kylie. We have others in our lives now. And we need to be with them. You need to be with your Cannon. Don’t let fear keep you from him.” She flops back against the cushions of the sofa. “And for the love of God, I’ll cut the booze, but don’t let this make you keep me from Booker and Carlos and my poker nights.”

It is quiet here. A little too quiet.

I miss my new friends at the club. I miss the beauty of the property, the buzz of the nightclub.

I miss… him.

Two yellow headlights shine into the living room as a car’s tires crunch along our short gravel drive.

Nonna pops up from her seat. “Oh, thank God. He’s here.”

“Who’s here?” I crane my neck to see whose car is outside the window.

“Booker. I have him on speed dial. I texted while you were getting the tea. I’m sorry, Kylie, but I want to go back.” She moves to the center of the room, looking at me to follow. “I’ll go batty if I’m stuck here another moment.”

“Nonna! This is our home.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. We belong at Fire, Kylie. Fire is where we burn bright. This?” She waves a hand around the living room. “This was a waiting room.”

A waiting room… an interesting metaphor for the quiet life we led before I stumbled into Fire with that package of powdered sugar.

“We spent almost a decade waiting quietly for your mother to come back,” Nonna says. “Now grab your things and let’s go.”

The door opens. I look over at Cannon. He’s waiting for me, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes, as always, on me. Looking at him makes me feel warm all over, like everything good is possible and waiting for us outside of that door. As long as we step out into the world, arm in arm, everything will be alright.

I glance around the little cottage, taking in the familiar needlepoints and doilies, the knitted blankets and the crafts my grandmother spent long, lonely hours making to pass the time while she waited.

Hope fills Cannon’s gaze as he speaks. “What’s it going to be, babygirl?”

“Nonna’s right,” I say, going to him, embracing my future. “It’s time to go home.”

18

Kylie

It feels sogood to be back at his place, home, as Nonna calls it. I’m snuggled up on the leather couch, recalling fond memories we made here, a thick, cozy blanket wrapped around my shoulders. “I’m so glad you came for me,” I say, blowing on the hot tea he brought me.

“Like I was going to let you stay there. Please. I gave you as much time as I could.”

“I thought Nonna texted Booker to get us.”

“She did,” he says. “But we were already on our way.”

“That’s funny.” I think back to the shower and nap I took at the yellow house. “You didn’t last very long.”

“There’s just one thing.” He does that oh-so-sexy thing I love, running a hand through his dark hair.

I take a sip of the cooled tea. Sweet and milky like he knows I like it. “What is it?”

His eyes lock on mine. “Look. I can’t date an employee. I just can’t.”

My stomach falls. I should have known this would not be a smooth transition. I think of my cleaning closet at Fire, the orders I’ve put in for my black and silver roses for Extravagance. I must be firm with him.

I hold his gaze. “I’m not giving up my job. It’s my greatest love.”

He eyes me, a dark brow rising dangerously slowly over one eye. “I’d like you to think about that last statement.”

“My greatest love next to you, of course,” I say, teetering on spilling the words, I love you.

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