Page 114 of The Killer Cupcake
Matteo looked to Slim with pleading eyes. The one person he trusted completely. The older man's face was grave. "It's a good plan, kid. Maybe the only plan. Your brother's offering you a way out."
"This is convenient." Suspicion flared through Matteo’s panic. "Too convenient. Did you?—"
"Careful." Carmelo's voice turned lethal. "I'm trying to save your life. Question my methods later, when you're alive to do it. We are out of time.”
The warehouse fell silent except for the distant sound of ships in the harbor. Finally, Matteo nodded. "What about Debbie? The baby is coming, Junior?—"
“I said I'll protect them." Carmelo met his eyes. "I swear on our mother's grave. While you serve, they'll be untouchable. I'll force Father to the table, negotiate peace with Harlem. By the time you return, this war will be over."
"And if you're lying?" Matteo asked. “I give up my life and my kids, and you do nothing. I’ll fucking kill you.”
"Then I’m no worse off than you are now." Carmelo gestured to Tommy's cooling corpse. "Decide, brother. The Maganos won't wait for a compromise.”
Matteo buried his face in his hands. When he looked up, tears tracked through the blood on his face. "I need to see them. Explain..."
"You have until sunrise. Caesar will drive you. Slim, we need to stage this scene. Make it clean.” Carmelo said. "Matteo, you were never here. You spent the night at Debbie's. Anyone asks, you know nothing about Tommy Mangano's last movements."
"Carmelo..." Matteo's voice broke. "I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can leave them. Let’s think of something else.”
“There’s nothing else. Trust me. You know I know how hard it is to let go.”
Matteo studied Carmelo for a moment, feeling as if his brother was partly satisfied by his misery. But he pushed the thought from his mind when he saw Magano’s mutilated corpse. He had no choice.
"Nothing will happen." The promise fell between them like a blood oath. "Now go. You have goodbyes to make."
The motorcycle'sgrowl faded into the predawn hush that covered the empty street. Matteo killed the engine. He stared up at the darkened window where he knew Junior slept—his little soldier safe in his fortress, guarded by a mother who never left her post. Four hours until sunrise. Not enough time. He needed weeks, months, a year to watch his new baby take first steps, to hear childish laughter fill these walls a little longer.
The house exhaled silence as he entered. It was as heavy as his burden. He navigated the stairs by memory, fingertips brushing the banister like a blind man reading braille. Inside the moonlit room he found Junior sprawled across his bed, one foot dangling over the edge. His little soldier was always fighting sleep even in his dreams. Matteo's calloused hand enveloped the tiny foot, warm and perfect. A contented snore answered in response. He tugged the blanket up, tucking in the edges like armor against the night.
"Hey." Debbie's voice rasped with sleep from the corner chair. She rubbed her eyes, the moonlight catching her lovely auburn hair and soft features "He waited for you again."
"I told you Debs?—"
"—to put him to bed." She shifted, the wicker creaking beneath her. "But he won't close his eyes until he smells your leather jacket, Matteo. You trained him. Don't change the rules now that business keeps you out late."
The lump in Matteo’s throat threatened to choke him. He kept his face turned away, blinking hard until the burn behind his eyes subsided. Debbie's grunt as she rose—that particular seven-months-pregnant sound—preceded the shuffle of her slippers across the floor. Her arms encircled his waist frombehind, her swollen belly pressed in against the small of his back.
"Mmm." Her sigh warmed his shoulder blade through the thin fabric. "You smell like outside."
He turned, gathering her into the shelter of his arms. Her face tilted up instinctively, lips parting before their mouths even met. She tasted of mint toothpaste and sleep, of home. "I love you so much," she murmured against his lips, the words vibrating through his chest.
"I saw Mama today." Her fingers rubbed over the buttons of his shirt. "Told her everything. She already knew—just waited for me to say it." A tremor ran through her. "I can't lose her, Matteo. I can't run to Vegas when?—"
"Shhh." He cradled her jaw, thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks. "We're not going anywhere."
Her breath hitched. "Really?"
"Let's take Junior to our bed." He kissed her forehead, her nose brushing his chin. "Just for tonight. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."
Junior barely stirred as Matteo lifted him, the boy's arms looping around his neck with the unconscious trust of a child who knew his father would never drop him. Debbie's hand found his, their fingers interlacing as he guided her across the hall—her waddle more pronounced tonight, the weight of their daughter dragging at her steps.
Matteo performed the nightly ritual with extra care: peeling Debbie out of her housedress, coaxing her into the oversized nightgown she hated but needed, even donning the ridiculous striped pajama pants she'd bought him as a joke. When they finally settled—Junior sprawled half across his chest despite being far too big for it, Debbie curled into his side with a contented sigh—Matteo closed his eyes and committed every sensation to memory: the rhythm of their breathing, the heatof their bodies, the way Junior's hair smelled faintly of peanut butter from his bedtime snack.
This, he thought as Debbie's fingers found his in the darkness. This right here is what the saints promised. And for these stolen hours, he let himself believe it might last.
Carmelo had calledfirst thing in the morning. He told Matteo he had a full day with his family instead. But he’d have to do what they agreed tomorrow. And Matteo seized on the opportunity. Staying in to play and nurture Junior. Cooking and cleaning. Doing all of Debbie’s bidding. Just being there as if it were the last day of his life. And it felt as if it was. When José came home from work, he sat them both down and told them the half-truth.
He done something
