Page 87 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia King

“Keep in touch. And good luck to your little girl. I hope she’s alright.”

The line goes dead. I glance at my phone again—the messages and calls that I missed. Nothing from Elijah.

He wouldn’t do that.

Maybe Olivia warned me. She said they were worried about me. That they had expected getting Nadia would make me better, stop the distractions and the rage. Maybe that’s all this has ever been—the hope that once I got her back, I would be better,and they’ve just been biding their time all these years. Playing patient.

Maybe they finally realized there’s nothing to wait for. Nothing can fix what I am. Not even her.

26

Nadia

“Don’t let me fall.”

The man sways from the balcony railing his feet kicking out over the open air. My wrist aches. My elbow screams in its socket. He’s about to plunge down into a dark, empty nothingness. Our eyes meet. His face is strange, flatter than it should be, the eyes and nose not quite in their right places. Already broke. The face of a dead man.

“Don’t let me fall!”

His teeth are cracked.

His grip stars to slip. Terror in his eyes.

“Mommy, he’ll drown!” Harper’s voice cries.

The man slips out of my grip. Plummets. Grabs Harper as he falls, surging down, snatching her down into the night with a scream—

The chair jerks as I bolt upright in it, my stiff neck catching hard. I sit up and find myself in a dim, private hospital room, buried under a scratchy blanket. They moved Harper out of the ER and into a private room for overnight observation, just in case. I don’t remember falling asleep.

Harper is awake. Her eyes are lidded. I think she’s sucking on her thumb at first, but she hasn’t done that in years. She’s chewing on her nail as she listens. Her heavy eyes are transfixed and unblinking. She’s staring at Ren. He sits next to her on the bed, his back to me, head bowed over a children’s book. He’s reading lowly, keeping her fixed attention. She listens to him with both arms wrapped tight around Applesauce. He must have had someone bring it for her.

I watch them for a few minutes. Who knew Ren Caruso does voices? A low, grumbly growl for an old man annoyed by a pesky, clever cat. The cat sounds like a mobster from Jersey, high pitch and cartoonish. Harper giggles, mumbling along tiredly with the story she has heard over and over, knowing every line by heart, and saying her favorites. My smile hurts as I listen, not daring to move, not wanting to interrupt this.

“I said get gone cat, scat,” she echoes with him. She tries to do the voice, too, whispering low.

She loves him, but that’s a given. Harper loves just about anybody that will smile at her. But he loves her, too. That feels special. Precious. The way my love for him used to feel—the mostreal, bona fide love in the whole world. Sometimes, I miss being a dumb kid.

Ren finishes the book, snapping it shut. She instantly asks him to read it again,again. Ren actually turns back to the start.

I stand up, sparing him from getting caught in that loop. Harper notices with an excited gasp. “Good morning!” she says, in the middle of the night. Little hands reach out for me. I sit on the bed, on the other side of her, and gently pull her up into my arms.

Ren has gone a particular shade of dull red, his hands slack on the book.

“Caught red-handed,” I confirm, just in case he was wondering if he got away with it. He sets the book aside like he’s handling a murder weapon.

“Don’t stop on my account. Maybe I want a bedtime story, too. I know you’re not shy.”

His half-grin almost shows his teeth. Almost a smile.

“I’m out of practice.”

“Well, you’ll have time to polish up.”

I see something in his gaze. Something shadowy and sad, like he doesn’t believe that.

“When can we go home?” Harper asks. “I’mhungry.”

I laugh and kiss the top of her head, again and again. I could drown her in love. Could squeeze her so tight she’d probablybite me. For a few minutes, it feels like everything is going to be alright. And I don’t want anyone, not even Ren, to convince me otherwise.

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