Page 165 of Mila: The Godfather

“Baby—” Then Maeve steps forward and steals her from me. I don’t fucking like it, but I understand. She’s trying to ease Mila’s discomfort and distract her.

At least, I’m thankful for that.

I watch as Maeve pulls her with her to the other side of the room, where a table is set with all the food, and ask her how she managed to pull all this off in a day, which successfully makes Mila get out of her head and explain logically all she did to pull an Irish themed party with no professional help.

“Fuck, man.” Byrne steps forward, staring me in the eyes with a look of remorse in it. That’s a first. The fucker is a skilled and trained assassin. A killing machine. But I see my woman got to him too. “I didn’t think.”

Raising my hand, I tell him. “Don’t let it happen again.”

He nods, then turns to leave toward the others who had the good sense to carry on as if nothing happened.

Walking to the bar, where my father is sitting, nursing a glass of water, I serve myself a glass too. Not wanting to drink tonight for some reason. “That girl is gold, son. I’m glad you have her.” The raw pain in his voice makes me turn to look at him. He looks better than he did months ago, but he’s still clearly sick. Fuck.

“I’m glad I have you both. That’s all I need.” I clasp his shoulder gently, not wanting to think about the possibility of him leaving me just yet. Not at all.

“Yeah, boy. You have us.” he breathes out, then takes a cigar from his jacket’s pocket and puts it in his mouth, but he doesn’t light it. “I heard about a wish list or some shit like that you’re completing for me.” he raises an eyebrow at me, all sadness gone from his eyes. There’s only mirth there. “I didn’t teach you to lie, a sheòid.”

“Only to fight and kill, right?”

“Damn straight.”

The heaviness in my heart eases as we both laugh.

Then, I turn and search for my girl but don’t see her where she last was with Maeve and the dog.

Shit.

* * *

The sun is already setting, and the sky has a beautiful pink hue. Mila loves the sunset. That’s why it doesn’t surprise me to find her outside, sitting peacefully on the swing I set up under the big-ass Willow in the center of the garden.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whisper as I get closer. Mila’s back tenses, and she stops pushing herself on the swing. I love how her feet don’t reach the ground. “I don’t like it when you’re away from me Mila.” I position myself behind her, and grab the ropes to help her, and gently start pushing her.

“I ruined your cake and your party with my issues.” She mumbles, sounding sad.

“Bullshit. You did no such thing.” I try to keep my voice soft, but when she apologizes for being herself, it pisses me off. She never has to apologize for her past or her beautiful and endearing quirks. “Byrne’s sorry.”

Her head whips around as she looks at me over her shoulder. Well, with our height difference, when she’s sitting, she comes face to face with my chest. “He doesn’t have to apologize. It was—”

“He does have to apologize, and he did. People shouldn’t touch others without their consent. You never know what could trigger them.” I didn’t think that way before. I honestly believed this world was too damn sensitive, but after she came along, I started looking at it in a different light. A beautiful one. It sometimes scares the fuck out of me because I’ve witnessed just how ugly this world truly is. Hell, I contribute to that ugliness. “He’ll do better from now. That I promise you. They all will.” It’s a process, but at least my men are mindful of her. They don’t have a choice. I’ll kill any of them in a heartbeat if they make her cry. If they step out of line like that dumb-fuck — Mitch.

“They’ll look at me differently now.” She whispers, hurt, while I push her gently. The wind is blowing her curls, and she’s never looked more unreal than right here to me.

“You are different,” I tell her, feeling her back grow rigid. But before she goes and starts thinking things that aren’t true, I speak again and explain myself. “You’re not one of them. You’re my wife, and as such, they need to treat you, but you also carry a soft heart, butterfly. Men like me aren’t good enough for it, but we try. We try like fuck to deserve it. My men aren’t used to exceptional humans like you, but they care for you.” I won’t mention her disability. Her disability is not her, and my men know this. All they see is this sweet creature that scares them. I know it. Because she sure as fucked scared the hell out of me when I met her, and she still does. Maeve was right, and we all know it. Soft hearts are a challenge but worth it. I also didn’t lie when I told her my men care for her because they do. Bain got attached to her in all those years of keeping her safe. Too fucking close, if you asked me.

Kelly’s eyes grow soft every time he finds a sticky note with a positive message on his car door or stuck in the fridge where she leaves them, knowing he’ll find them. She doesn’t know it, and he doesn’t know I know, but it makes his day.

Then, there’s Maeve, who’s never been happier now that there’s someone else who listens to all that genius shit she likes to go on about for hours with her twin. Now, they have added Mila to the nerd club.

Maeve’s words. Not mine.

Fuck, even Byrne.

My warlord is emotionless. In all these years, I’ve never witnessed him look remorseful, but he did today.

They all care in their own way, and I’m fucking glad about that.

If the time comes to lay their lives down for her I know they will just as they would for me.

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