Page 56 of Married to the Mafia Devil

She nods, her eyes softening. “It feels like we’ve come full circle, doesn’t it? From all that chaos to this peace.”

“It does,” I agree, reaching for her hand, feeling the coolness of her skin against mine, grounding and real. “And it’s only the beginning. We have so much more to look forward to now, so much life to live together.”

As we sit in silence, savoring the tranquility, the baby stirs slightly, mumbling a sleepy sound that has us both smiling.

“Do you think she knows how much she's already loved?” I whisper, not wanting to disturb the quiet.

“Sure she does,” Emma whispers back, her voice filled with a mother’s certainty. “How could she not?”

TWENTY-FIVE

Emma

Two years later…

We’re at a cozy little restaurant on the edge of Hannigan’s Park. The place is bustling with the sound of clinking glasses and soft chatter, celebrating Ava's second birthday. It's intimate, with warm lighting casting a cheerful glow on our table that's filled with loved ones.

Our two-year-old daughter is the life of the party, charming everyone with her bubbly laughter and boundless energy.

As the waiter sets down another round of appetizers, Ava, in her floral dress, tries to grab a piece too big for her tiny hands. “Easy there, little munchkin,” I laugh, helping her out.

She beams up at me, her joy infectious.

Amelia leans across the table, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe she’s already two. Feels like just yesterday you were rushing to the hospital and I was trying not to panic.”

“Tell me about it,” I reply, watching Ava amusing herself with the reflection in her spoon. “It's been a whirlwind. But a happy one.”

Alex, sitting next to Matteo, chimes in, waving a breadstick like a conductor's baton. “Here’s to Ava, may your year be as bright and lively as your energy levels,” he declares, raising his glass. “God knows, when I babysit, I need a nap afterward.”

Everyone cheers, raising their glasses, and Ava, noticing the commotion, tries to mimic the toast with her sippy cup, spilling a bit of juice in her excitement. “Cheers!” she exclaims, a new word she's picked up that makes everyone laugh.

Matteo wipes up the little spill, his eyes meeting mine with that shared look of parental amusement and love. “She's definitely got her mother’s spirit,” he teases gently.

“And her father’s cheek,” I retort, as we all settle back, the atmosphere light and filled with laughter.

Pamela pulls out her camera. “Okay, everyone squeeze in! Ava, sweetie, can Auntie Amelia help blow out your candles?”

Ava nods enthusiastically, already distracted by the prospect of cake. As the servers bring out the cake ablaze with candles, she squirms in her seat, ready to spring into action.

“Let’s sing!” Pamela starts off, and we all join in, singing 'Happy Birthday' loudly, some of us more off-key than others.

Ava watches the candles with wide-eyed wonder.

“Now, make a wish,” I say, after we finish singing.

Ava, unable to contain her excitement any longer, practically lunges forward to help blow out the candles, her little puffs of breath comically ineffective until Amelia joins in and they extinguish the candles together.

Applause breaks out around the table, and Ava claps her hands, delighted with the collective cheer. “Did it!” she squeals, her face lit up with pride.

As the cake is cut, I lean back, watching the scene unfold, feeling a surge of warmth. “This is perfect,” I whisper to Matteo, who has an arm around my shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, kissing the top of my head lightly. “Perfect.”

Pamela passes Ava a book. “Now, it’s important you learn early,” she says, tapping the cover. “This duck is superb, the best duck you could imagine. There’s another duck book out there you might have heard of. Awful, don’t go near it.”

“Other duck bad,” Ava replies.

“Stick with me, you’ll go far,” Pamela says with a laugh.

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