Page 165 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
He’s successfully gotten the hint that I don’t want to talk to him over the last five years, so why is he seeking me out?
“Why do you treat me like I have cooties every fucking year?”
I force myself to meet his gaze. He stands blocking the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
"I don’t," I lie.
"Bullshit." He steps closer. The frustration in his voice is palpable, but there's something else there.
Confusion, or hurt, maybe.
Guilt burns in my gut, but I can’t give in to it.
For six years, from the time I discovered I was pregnant until now, I’ve had no choice but to keep him away.
"What do you want me to say, Luca?"
He gives me a small laugh. “Maybe tell me why you act like I’m the one who fucked things up when it was you.”
I summon anger to keep up the charade. “Gee, was it that you put my father in prison… where he died?”
“I did not?—”
“Or maybe how you went to Italy and didn’t look back? Take your pick.”
His jaw is tight. "I went to Italy for family business. You knew I was coming back."
“No, I didn’t.”
He shrugs. “Why do you care? It’s not like you didn’t move on. Your kids are proof of that.”
I want to slap his face for what he’s suggesting, but to do so might reveal the truth. So I don’t say or do anything.
“What? You have no answer?” He shakes his head. “Don’t act like I’m the bad guy when you’re the one who moved on within weeks of my leaving.”
“You put my father in prison?—”
“No. I didn’t. In fact, I tried to… You know what? Never mind. You only believe what you want.”
The tragedy is that I know he didn’t.
At least I do now.
But to protect my children, to protect him, I pretend that I still blame him for my father’s incarceration and death in prison.
"It doesn't matter now," I say. "We've all moved on."
As I brush past him toward the door, his hand catches my wrist, gentle but firm. "Have you?”
I pull my wrist from his grasp to break the yearning that surges through me. "Yes.”
"I planned to come back for you," Luca says quietly, almost like he doesn’t want me to hear it. "I had everything arranged. But then I heard you were expecting. Never heard about the wedding or lucky guy but… well, why come back to that?”
I blink, momentarily thrown off balance. "What?"
"I’m not to blame, so stop acting like I am, unless it’s your guilt that has you treating me like shit every Christmas.”
He was coming back to the U.S. For me?
