Page 64 of The Mafia's Second Shot

I blink at him, surprised. “You mean move?”

“Why not?” he says with a shrug. “This city holds too many ghosts, Zoey. We deserve a place where we can breathe. Where you can focus on your art and I can figure out what the hell to do with myself.”

The idea stirs something in me—a longing I hadn’t realized was there. “Where would we go?”

“Somewhere quiet,” he replies. “A coastal town, maybe. Something small and peaceful.”

I imagine it for a moment: a little house by the ocean, the sound of waves in the background as I paint, Cooper finding a new rhythm far from the chaos of our old lives. The image is almost too perfect to believe, but it’s enough to make me smile.

“That sounds... nice,” I say, my voice soft.

“Nice?” he teases, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll take it.”

As the day goes on,the idea takes root, growing into something tangible. We sit side by side on the couch, scrolling through photos of coastal towns, talking about what kind of place we’d want to call home. For the first time in what feels like forever, the future doesn’t seem so daunting.

But as the excitement builds, so does a familiar unease. The past hasn’t exactly been kind to us, and I can’t shake the fear that it will find a way to follow us, no matter where we go.

“What if it’s not enough?” I ask suddenly, my voice trembling. “What if the past doesn’t stay behind us?”

Cooper looks at me, his expression softening. He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “The past is done, Zoey. Rossi’s gone. The crew’s in good hands. We’ve done everything we can to close that chapter.”

“But what if?—”

“No,” he says firmly, cutting me off. “We can’t live in the ‘what ifs.’ If we do, we’ll never move forward. And I’m done looking over my shoulder. Aren’t you?”

His words settle over me, heavy but reassuring. I nod slowly, squeezing his hand. “I am.”

“Then we move forward,” he says, his voice steady. “Together.”

The day feels lighterafter that. We start looking at houses in earnest, laughing over tiny kitchens and ridiculous wallpaper in some listings, marveling at the charm of others. By the time evening rolls around, the idea doesn’t just feel possible—it feels real.

As we’re cleaning up from dinner, my phone buzzes on the counter. I glance at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I see the name of the gallery director, Evelyn.

“It’s Evelyn,” I say, looking at Cooper. “Should I?—”

“Answer it,” he says, nodding. “Go ahead.”

I swipe to accept the call, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hi, Evelyn.”

“Zoey,” her voice is warm and cheerful. “I have some exciting news. We’ve decided to fast-track your exhibit. There was a cancellation, and we’d love to feature your work in three weeks.”

My breath catches. “Three weeks? That’s so soon.”

“I know,” Evelyn says, laughing lightly. “But it’s a wonderful opportunity. Your work has so much emotion, so much depth—I think it’s exactly what the gallery needs right now.”

I glance at Cooper, who’s watching me intently, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “I’d love to,” I say finally, the words spilling out in a rush. “Thank you so much.”

“Wonderful,” Evelyn replies. “I’ll send you the details tomorrow.”

When I hang up, I turn to Cooper, my hands trembling. “They fast-tracked the exhibit. It’s happening in three weeks.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, his pride unmistakable. “That’s incredible, Zoey.”

“It’s terrifying,” I admit, laughing nervously. “But exciting.”

“You’re going to be amazing,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “I can’t wait to see it.”

As I restmy head against his chest, the fear and excitement swirl together, but for the first time, the excitement outweighs the fear. The future is still uncertain, but with Cooper by my side, it feels full of possibilities.

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