Page 28 of The Mafia's Surprise Gift

“Well, the toast isn’t shooting at me, so I’m fine.”

“Depends on how tight the spring is,” I remarked.

Mae sent me a withering glance and turned on the tap. “You can see I’m fine. So you can leave now.” She turned her back and grabbed a towel from the rack near the window.

“Mae.” I couldn’t leave. Not until I’d explained myself. I walked close, approaching cautiously since Mae was still within reach of several kitchen utensils which I did not want to see near my head.

“Rocco, leave me alone.”

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” I stopped just behind her, close enough that the flare of the skirt from her dress brushed lightly against my knees. Breathing her in, she was soft and warm, and my heart skipped a beat. Mae didn’t move away from me, but she didn’t move toward me either.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her voice was strained, tight, like it was being drawn back. Placing one hand on her shoulder, a spark of energy flashed between us. I turned her to face me, and crimson dusted her cheeks so deeply that her golden freckles stood out like little chocolate kisses.

“Mae. I have to explain. Please. What happened yesterday was a disaster, and I am sorry, okay? I’m sorry you witnessed that. I’m sorry you were put in such a dangerous position, but I promise it will never happen again.”

Mae’s eyes darted up to meet mine, but eye contact only lingered for a few brief seconds.

“Learning about the Mafia, I’m sure, came as a shock. I won’t lie. We are criminals, and what happened yesterday may look like it was our fault, but we’ve been at peace for just over six years.”

“So peaceful that your father was murdered?” Mae snapped, and she took a step away from me. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care about your reasoning or your excuses. You’re a criminal.” Her voice dropped a few tones. “And I nearly died yesterday. I felt sorry for you because of your father, but clearly, my sympathy was misplaced since trying to be there for you could have taken me away from my kid. So how about instead of coming here to clear your conscience, you fuck off like you did seven years?—”

“Mom!” The door to the back garden suddenly swung open and in ran a small boy. His hair was as red as Mae’s, but he had hazel eyes rather than her striking green. At that moment, I was suddenly reminded that in all my thinking and obsessing over seeing Mae again, I’d forgotten entirely about which man was lucky enough to give her this.

“Zack.” In an instant, Mae changed and a surge of kindly warmth swept across her face. “What’s the matter, kiddo?”

“Grandma says we need more lemonade and—” Zack stopped abruptly when he noticed me, and the vibrant excitement on his face was replaced by a wave of shyness. It was exactly the same as the look I saw—and adored—so often on Mae’s own face away back in college.

“Who is this?”

“This is…” Mae glanced at me, searching for the right words.

“I’m a friend of your Mom’s.” I dropped down to my haunches, bringing me to eye level with Zack, and smiled at him. “We used to go to school together.”

“Oh.” Zack hummed softly, tugging at the bottom of his T-shirt, which was covered in grass stains. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Rocco. What’s yours?”

“Zack,” he replied, then his eyes widened. “Mommy was at your party yesterday.”

“Party?” I glanced up at Mae, and she sent me a loaded look that was easy to decipher. Don’t burst whatever gentle lie she had told him. “Yes, my party. It was a small, family thing.”

“I wanted Mom to take me, but she said it was grown-ups only,” Zack muttered.

“Just like how Kevin’s birthday at school was kids only,” Mae pointed out. She set about gathering a large jug from the fridge and two fresh glasses.

“Tell you what.” I smiled at Zack. “The next time I have a party, I’ll make sure you’re invited. And your dad too. How does that sound?”

The glass in Mae’s hand suddenly clattered from her grasp and hit the counter, but thankfully, it didn’t smash.

“I don’t have a dad?—”

“Uh, Zack, can–can you go ask Grandma if she wants a lemon slice?”

“Okay, sure.” Zack’s brow furrowed and he turned around, then sprinted back outside, yelling for his Grandma at the top of his lungs.

“Cute kid.” I straightened back up and watched Mae as she poured two glasses of lemonade. Her hand trembled slightly, and her face was hidden behind a curtain of her hair. “Dad’s not in the picture?” I couldn’t even pretend to hide the joy that news brought me.

“No, no, he’s—no,” Mae said, stumbling slightly over her words.

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