Page 189 of SINS & Riley
Then, and only then, look up Dante D’Angelo.
They’re having cinghiale ragù over wide ribbons of pappardelle for Sunday dinner. The woman carrying my child should go. She’s not eating enough.
Maybe she’ll go if she knows I’ll won’t be showing up.
Pinky swear.
PS—
She should really talk to Enzo. I may be the monster Riley thinks I am, but he’s not.
Don’t get me wrong. He’s definitely Satan incarnate.
Just not the bastard who buried your Da.
64
RILEY
I did exactly what Dante told me to do.
Just not in the order he gave me.
Instead, I spent the afternoon with Kennedy doing something I couldn’t wait for—shopping for baby clothes.
“What are you having?” the clerk asks, all sunshine and cheer.
“A girl,” I answer, then quickly deflect. “But my sister’s popping before I do, so today’s about her.”
Kennedy beams, her hand drifting to her belly like it’s second nature. “A boy. My husband’s already locked down Darth Vader for Halloween. Now I just need a Luke Skywalker onesie.”
The clerk lights up. “Easy. White snap-up hoodie, little sash. Done.” She rushes off with a huge smile. I think Kennedy made her day.
“And the girls?” I ask, stroking the softest blanket known to man.
“Lily’s set on Princess Leia. Sofia insists on Yoda because ‘Yoda kicks Darth Vader’s butt.’ Her words.”
I grin. “Do they even fight?”
“Nope. I tried to explain, but she’s stubborn like Enzo. And her costume is ridiculous levels of cute.”
The clerk bundles everything up. “I’ll keep these at the front for you.”
“Thanks.” Kennedy and I wander deeper into the store—three sprawling floors of Baby World. I get lost in Mary Jane socks that are too cute for words, and a mobile that plays Fly Me to the Moon.
“Put everything on my tab,” a voice says behind me.
It’s not Dante.
“Enzo.”
Another clerk rushes over, too eager. “Absolutely.” She hands me a scanner. “Just click on whatever you’d like us to wrap up.”
“Oh, I don’t need that.” I try to push her off. “My sister’s shopping today.”
Enzo plucks it from my hand before I can stop him, scanning the stack I’d been eyeing. “You both have babies. You’re both shopping.”
“Hey!” I try to stop him. “Um, at this rate, the only thing left to buy my kid will be a car.”
