Page 59 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins

"I need to head out again tonight." He runs a hand through his hair, his expression tense. "I need to find Benny."

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. "Of course. You have to do what Nic needs."

“I fucked up by not knowing Benny was here. By not apprehending him. Fucking hell, he was in my casino.”

"Max, I understand." And I do. This is who he is. Dedicated, loyal, willing to do whatever it takes to protect the family. It's one of the things I've always admired about him, even when it means watching him walk away.

“I’ll go after dinner. The security team will be doubled tonight. Marcus will be right outside."

"We'll be fine. Just… be careful."

His eyes soften as he cups my face. "Always am." He surprises me by kissing me, right there in the open kitchen. The kiss is deep and lingering, and then he steps back.

“I’m going to clean up too. I’ll be right back.”

I nod and watch him leave the kitchen, guilt rising that I brought this on us. What was I thinking, going to the casino today? Now Benny knows where we are. And for what? Some files for work? I mean, yes, I needed them to do my job, but maybe I could have found another way. Perhaps Max could have arranged to get the data to me and then Nic wouldn’t be ordering us home now.

The pitter-patter of small feet announces the kids' return, their hands still damp from washing up. Dario slides into his chair while Daniella claims her spot.

“Where’s Uncle Max?” Dario asks.

“He’s washing up too.” I serve the warm mac and cheese with hotdogs, adding a few cut up vegetables for nutrition.

“All washed.” Max enters holding his hands up as if to show us. He takes a seat at the table.

“Mine are clean too.” Dario holds up his hands. Daniella shows hers as well.

I watch them interact as I serve the kids their plates, my heart swelling at how natural it feels.

"Mommy, remember when we had mac and cheese at home and Dario put ketchup all over it?" Daniella wrinkles her nose.

"That was one time!" Dario protests, his mouth full of pasta.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Max and I say in unison, catching each other's eyes across the table.

“Some people like ketchup on macaroni and cheese,” I say, setting a plate in front of Max and then joining them with my dinner.

“I don’t,” Daniella says. “I don’t like it on French fries either.”

“Do you like it on anything?” Max asks.

“Hotdogs and hamburgers.”

“Well, then…” Max hands her the ketchup for her hotdog.

The kids dominate the conversation, jumping from topic to topic, the playground Max built them, their favorite cartoons, the upcoming Thanksgiving feast. I steal glances at Max between bites, watching how he leans in when Daniella tells her stories, how he helps Dario retrieve a piece of hotdog that shot off his plate when he cut it.

I try to smile, to enjoy the moment, but inside, I feel like I’m dying. The sight of my children so completely at ease with Max, the way he's carved out space in his life for us without hesitation, fills me with a fierce yearning for something I can’t have. I need to stop wishing. It’s time to look forward.

“After dinner, we need to start going through your things in preparation to return home,” I tell the kids.

“We’re going home?” Daniella’s expression is surprised and a little sad. Even Max looks a little startled. I’m not sure why. He’s the one who says Nic is bringing us home.

“Yes.” I haven’t told the kids the full details about why we're here, so I can’t explain that my stalker is in Las Vegas. Or at least who Nic and Max think is my stalker. I still find it hard to believethat it’s Benny, but I also know that Benny could be a danger to me and then kids. Instead, I say, “Our adventure is coming to an end.”

"But I don't wanna go," Dario whines. "I like it here."

Daniella nods vigorously. "Can't we stay longer?"

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