Page 130 of Dark Mafia Bride

Ettore’s attentiveness makes it even harder to emotionally stay away. I try to picture a future without him—my children growing up in a loving home, surrounded by care and security, in a neighborhood where everyone cares about the person next door. It’s an idyllic vision, one I desperately want to hold onto.

But every time I imagine that perfect life, he slips into the picture unbidden. Every fucking time, to the point where it’s become frustrating. And when he’s not there, the future feels hollow, incomplete.

“Mirabella,Cara, come inside before you catch a cold,” Nonna calls from the kitchen. Through the window, I see her stirring a pot of tomato soup. The rich, savory aroma wafts out into the crisp evening air, making my stomach growl.

I rise from the swing, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth as I step inside. The small living room is cozy; Giulia is sprawled on the couch, completely engrossed in the latestMarvel movie. The kitchen is bathed in a soft yellow glow across the linoleum floor, its warmth wrapping around me like a blanket.

Nonna gestures toward the table where a steaming bowl of soup waits. “Sit. Eat,” she orders in her no-nonsense tone. Since I became pregnant, she’s made it her personal mission to keep me well fed, preparing three meals a day without fail and even packing lunch for me on workdays.

“Grazie, Nonna,” I say with a smile as I sink into the chair, letting the warmth of the soup chase away the chill.

“You’re always out on that damned swing,” she grumbles. “It’s fall now—the evenings are cold.”

“I was wearing a sweater, Nonna,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

Mamma shuffles into the room, draped in a shawl she recently knitted herself. She’s taken up knitting as a hobby, which explains why everyone in the house now owns at least one fall-themed sweater.

She takes the seat across from me, and I can’t help but smile. It still feels like a small miracle to see her upright and vibrant again.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” I tease as Nonna places a bowl of soup in front of her. “Does it have anything to do with your physical therapy class?”

Mamma’s cheeks flush a faint pink, confirming my suspicion. She’s met someone—Cade, a widower with three grown children. She insists it’s nothing serious, but her blush tells another story.

She smirks, her tone playful. “And someone’s in a bad mood. Does it have anything to do with your husband?”

Her words make me pause, the warmth of the soup suddenly unable to reach the cold ache inside me.

Nonna’s laughter rings through the kitchen, light and mischievous, as I release an exasperated sigh. “Why do youalways get so defensive when I bring him up?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

“Because there’s nothing going on between us,” Mamma retorts, her voice a little flustered.

“Oh, admit it, Isi,” Nonna says, her grin widening as she settles beside Mamma, clearly enjoying herself. “You are crushing that man.”

“Oh my God, Nonna. It’s,‘You have a crush on that man,’not whatever you just said,” Giulia pipes up from the living room, her voice dripping with teenage sass.

“Óh,stai zitta!What do you know about anything?” Nonna shoots back, a playful spark in her eyes.

“A crush?” My mother asks incredulously. “I’m too old for that, Mamma!”

Nonna smirks, clearly unfazed. “Too old? Nonsense! You’re never too old for a little romance. Look at me—I’m ancient, and I still know how to appreciate a good looking man! And no, Ettore does not qualify.”

I can’t help but laugh, but I’m also secretly relieved to see Mamma’s usual stoic exterior cracking just a little.

“No one is too old for crushes,” I chime in with a sly smile. “You like him. And from everything we’ve gathered,helikes you, too. So why are you pushing him away?”

She scoffs, waving me off. “You’re one to talk.”

My smile falters. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mamma’s eyes soften as they settle on me. “You’ve been pushing Ettore away for weeks now…”

“Our situations are completely different,” I counter, my voice sharper than I intended.

Nonna leans forward. “Give the man a chance, Cara. He’s proven himself. I almost feel bad for him now.”

I gape at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re both ganging up on me right now. I thought you hated him.”

Nonna shrugs, unapologetic. “Like I said, he’s proven himself. I think he really loves you, Mira. Just like I know you love him, too.”

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