Page 107 of The Gangster King

Or a recipe.

I should have gone to McDonald’s.

My god, what kind of Italian woman am I?

Dante would’ve been disappointed in me as a wife. He should be grateful. Mama died so early, so I was never trained to runa household. My father has retained most of the control in that regard.

I walk to the checkout and study the magazines.

Martha Stewart knew who she was. Except for that little incarceration moment.

I don’t.

I have no idea who I am. Or what my aspirations are.

My book cover design business is doing well. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far, and how it bought me my freedom.

Now what?

Do I want to get married? Do I want to be a mother?

Or build an empire.

Be a dog mom?

Be a human mom?

I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman with no clue about who I am.

Fuck, that’s sad.

I feel tears prickle and push them back.

My god, I’m having an identity crisis in the middle of Whole Foods. Which...also, I cannot shop here again—the prices are insane.

I wipe my eyes and push my hair off my face.

I’ve got this. I’ll figure it out one day at a time. It takes effort to change your life, and I’m so proud I took the next step.

One day it will feel normal and, hey, I can learn to cook. YouTube is my friend.

I know I can overcome those things. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the empty feeling in my chest that’s truly bothering me.

I’m alone.

Or rather...Dante is gone.

The boy who has always been there. I never realized how much a part of me he has always been.

Since I was born.

And it’s like he’s not here, but I can still feel him surrounding me. Like a second layer of skin.

My protective layer.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DANTE

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