Page 46 of Maid For The Mafia Informant

“Dad? What’s going on?” Will asks, his calm but firm tone reminding me of myself when I was his age.

He’ll make a fine attorney, I know he will. It’s what he wants, so who am I to stop him?

“Have a seat, son,” I tell him. Pushing out a chair with my foot.

He looks to his mother, worried. Not like he’s been caught out like most kids would think. He’s genuinely concerned for his folks. Although, I can tell there’s something else on his mind.

He’s been hanging around the house a lot lately, something he only ever does when he wants to make an announcement of his own.

“I think it means your Dad might be going back to work,” Sophie says finally, her breathe shivering as she digests the concept herself.

I frown and take a breath in, clearing my throat.

Will laughs nervously. “But dad, you retired years ago. Decades ago,” he says matter of fact.

And he’s right. I did.

“Only in a part-time capacity... And only so we can make sure some old friends don’t think they can get up to their old tricks again,” I say cryptically.

Will looks at us both as if we’re nuts.

The kids have never heard the name De Falco with any great importance attached to it.

And I intend to keep it that way.

Sophie’s phone rings and she answers it.

It’s her dad, just like I knew it would be.

She goes off into another end of the house, which is good timing.

I want a word with my son, man to man.

“It’s some casework from before your time, Will. Nothing to concern yourself with. Just a bit out of the blue for your mother and me,” I tell him firmly.

I look at him, seeing his mother more than me, which makes me happier than I thought a man ever could be in this life. He brushes his hair away from his face, just like she does, and I remind myself it’s a good thing he’s my son.

It means I can tell him how much I love him, whenever I want.

“What is it, Will?’ I ask, trying not to smile.

I’ve cross-examined hardened killers, coached them before they took the stand, but when it comes to my own boy I want him to tell me what he wants when he wants to.

“I-” he starts to say, but stops, blushing. Telling me right away it’s about a girl.

He’s an adult now, number three after our first set of twins, the kids moved away once they were old enough, visiting every chance they get mind you. But Will’s always kinda hung around.

Not that I mind, his keen interest in law at college keeps us both grounded, the beach a few hundred feet away keeps us connected as friends. Always fishing, shooting the breeze, or taking the yacht for a stretch.

Except when he has an announcement, like today.

I don’t want my own to overshadow his, so I give him the floor. Or in this case, the table.

“Go ahead,” I prompt him, knowing his mom will be on the phone for at least an hour.

“It’s Becky,” he says getting redder by the second, and in a single moment, I feel it all over again.

I know exactly what he has to tell us.

That paternal rush of pride. Call it whatever you like, the propagation of the species, or just a Dad who’s about to graduate to grandad, like it or not.

And his mom, the love of my life. My whole world. I stifle a little laugh at the thought.

The two of us, grandparents! Wait ‘til she hears this one.

Will looks confused, so I resume my ‘waiting for you to tell me’ face that only a mom or a dad can give with any real authority.

“I got her pregnant and now we’re gonna have a baby!” he blurts out, practically shouting it, which really does make me laugh out loud as I slap his shoulder, hearing his mother stomping down the corridor.

Will’s about my height, but he shrinks when he hears her coming. I tactfully cover my mouth and turn away.

“Dad? I’m gonna have to call you back. Will just… never mind, talk later. Bye.”

Sophie hangs up the phone and I’m trying to hide my joy, in stitches as I watch my second eldest son try and tell us he’s gone and made us both officially old.

“I’m gonna be a grand Mommy?” Sophie says, looking at me in total disbelief. Making us both feel just like we did when we found out we were going to be parents ourselves all those years ago.

I just shrug and look back over to Will, who looks like he’s about to be sick himself.

Finally, Sophie does it. She’s the one who lets him off the hook.

“Oh, Son! I couldn’t be happier,” she exclaims pulling him into her arms, and I get up and go hug him too, kissing him with tears in my eyes.

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