Page 72 of Alfie: Part Two

At some point in the future, I’d get him to at least want to see his nephews. They adored him. They looked up to him. And they had a better shot at becoming good men if they were near West.

Speaking of good men…

“For the record, you are a good man,” I told him. “Both objectively and in my biased mobster opinion. You’re my fucking heart, West. And, occasionally, my moral compass.”

He smiled a little. “Occasionally.”

“It happens.”

He inhaled deeply again, like things were finally settling, and he nodded slightly and then kissed me on the forehead.

“I know what we need tonight,” he said and backed away. He reached for his phone, and before I could ask, he was calling someone. “Hello, this is West Scott. I have a Thanksgiving delivery scheduled for five PM for six people, and I was wondering if I could make a last-minute change.”

Wait, why?

“That’s right,” he said. “I want you to deliver it to the nearest shelter instead. My family and I won’t be needing the food.”

Whoa. What the fuck? It may be a shitty day, but I was still gonna be hungry as fuck. I’d barely eaten anything for breakfast.

What was he giving away our food for?!

I widened my arms and stared at him in disbelief.

He quirked a smirk at me. “Yes, that sounds good. Thank you very much—and happy Thanksgiving.” He ended the call. “There. Now we can?—”

“Papi, that was my turkey. I had obscene plans for it. I was gonna make sex noises when I ate the whole thing, and you just gave it away?”

He snorted softly and came over to me again. “Today’s not our day, baby.”

“I don’t know. I thought things were lookin’ up,” I muttered. “I mean, we talked and all.”

“Then let me remind you of what we just watched in Finn’s car,” he murmured, and I flinched. “Yeah. Fuck Thanksgiving. I propose we pack up the children in the car, bring comfortable clothes, and stop somewhere for hoagies or burgers on our way to your parents’.”

I looked up at him.

“We both know Giulia’s going to force herself to sit here and act like everything is fine,” he said. “Unless Phil calls with a late cancelation.” He checked his watch. “They’re supposed to be here in two hours.”

He had a point. A big one. It was better if we helped her stay comfortable, and she preferred to stay home.

“You’re right.” I pressed a kiss to his chin. “Thank you. It’s no wonder she loves you more than me.”

He chuckled and knocked his forehead to mine. “You know that’s not true.”

“It feels like that when she’s busting my balls all the time and never yours.”

I was right. I knew I was right. End of story.

“Did you get my onion rings, Daddy?” Ellie peered back as I loaded up the trunk with takeout.

“I got ’em.” Five bags filled with burgers, fries, onion rings, shakes, sodas, wings, mozzarella sticks, and one plain cheese pizza. This was after we’d stopped at a fuckin’ 7-Eleven to buy “dessert.” As in, chocolate bars, chips, and cookies. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

“Yessss!” Ellie was way too triumphant. “No gross Thanksgiving food!”

I stared at her. “You’re basing that on the sole fact that you don’t like cranberry sauce. It makes no sense. You like turkey, you like mashed potatoes, you like?—”

“It’s grooo-oooss,” she sang.

“Youcan be gross,” I snapped.

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