Page 112 of Mila: The Godfather

Perhaps, she doesn’t feel it as deeply as I do, but I know I’m in there.

In her heart, and I don’t plan on ever leaving.

Because she’s not only inked in my skin, but she’s my entire heart.

My weakness.

My strength.

My Mila.

The double doors that connect the mansion to the garden open, and Maeve strides in dressed in all black with her pink hair, a total contrast to the pale tone of her skin. She walks towards where both Da and I are, standing under the gazebo with a grin on her face.

Maeve might be my golden little genius, but to two other men she’s their ruin and salvation.

Feeling my father grip my chin tenderly, like he used to when I was a young lad, I look into his eyes, identical to mine. I’m not only blood of his blood.

But my father believes I was made in his image.

I believe so too.

I see traces of my mum, but it’s mostly him.

“And why her?” Da asks.

I smile at that.

“Because there’s never been and there’ll never be anyone else for me.” I confess proudly as I wait for her. Kelly stands to my right, and across from him now stands Maeve, who looks nervous as if she were the bride.

And like a magic trick or a fucking miracle, the double doors to the garden open once again, and Mila enters by herself. Fuck, she deserves better. She deserves someone to walk her down the aisle to me. A wedding that would be the envy of every woman in this city. She deserves so much more than this. Still, I don’t regret every decision I’ve made since retrieving her from Detroit.

Because that road led me here. To this moment in time where she is seconds away from becoming legally mine. She is wearing the dress I picked for her. An elegant yet casual, long satin dress. Her wild curls fall down her back held back, by a tiara that matches both her dress and her eyes perfectly. I can’t seem to look away. I don’t want to look away.

Fuck.

The tiara has tiny butterflies on it, reminding me of the very first time I laid eyes on her. When she was dressed as a butterfly. A blue butterfly.

But this time is different. She’s a young woman, and she’s never looked more like mine.

Mila smiles slightly as she walks toward me, but her nerves aren’t hard to miss. When she arrives in front of me, I notice she’s carrying a bridal bouquet with my favorite flower. My mother’s favorite. Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I catch the hint of desire and happiness, both surprising and grounding me.

I take her much-smaller hand in mine and smile, reassuring her while Da begins the short ceremony. As he goes over the usual ceremony script, I tune everything out and focus solely on her.

“Hi,” I whisper, getting her attention away from my Da and to me. It’s obvious she’s nervous. Nervous and out of her element. Still, she smiles at me while her hand trembles in mine. Holding it firmly, I smile back, offering her comfort. Telling her with my smile that all is fine and that, from now on it will always be. I’ll always make sure she’s good.

That she’ll never go without.

“Hi,” she whispers back.

“Everything will be alright.” I assure her, still staring at her eyes while her gaze falls to my lips. “You’ll always be safe with me. Always.”

Her gaze lifts to mine once again.

“Always? That’s a long time. That’s for—”

“It’s not long enough, butterfly. No amount of time with you will ever be enough.” I cut her off, smiling wide when her nostrils flare and she licks her lips.

The heart in my chest seems to slow down, just like the world around us, as I wait for her to speak again and tell me what’s in her head.

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