Page 83 of Nico (Belles & Mobsters 2)

Mom and her fiancé had a fight, she went out with her girlfriends, got drunk, and ended up in Benito King’s bed. The consequences were dire and she paid for them every single day since. She ended up pregnant. Benito stalked her for weeks later, though she got back with Dad. That was when Benito King educated my mother on the debt that my family owed, every other generation. Our family owed Benito two more generations of belles. A girl to be owed to an agreement our stupid grandfather made. It was supposed to skip my mother. But my mother knowing she was pregnant, and an early blood test revealing the gender, she traded her own life for mine.

And here we were. This flip flop made one of my daughters part of the fucking agreement. We had no part in making the damn agreement, yet we had to pay for it. Those stupid men should start selling themselves and see how they like it.

The strung lights lit up the patio and entire backyard, giving it a soft glow. I guess Nico paying off the entire mortgage didn’t save the house. Not for my girls and me at least. Soon, we’d leave it all behind, and I had no idea how I’d ever explain it to my daughters.

“You have to share your ice cream recipe with me,” Grace’s voice startled me. “It tastes just like gelato in Italy.” She grinned, tilting her head Matteo’s way. “Trust me. Matteo is your judge, because the little guy refuses to eat American ice cream.” The kids’ happy faces were all smeared with ice cream. “I can’t believe you make ice cream from scratch.”

“Not all the time,” I admitted. “Like I said, when I mess around in the kitchen, it helps me relax and think.”

I stared out into the horizon, the breeze had picked up and the air smelled like the beginning of rain. There was something beautiful about watching a storm crawl up the bay with its dark cloud. So damn poetic right now because it mirrored my life. A consuming, thunderous, and dangerous future lay ahead of me, reflected in the dark clouds of the skies.

“God, this view,” I muttered to John absentmindedly, already preparing for the departure. “I will miss it.”

“You can always come back,” he said hopefully. “Visit or whatever. Maybe spend weekends here; I’d join you.” I scrunched my eyebrows at his words. Somehow, I didn’t think Nico would be open to me hanging out with my best friend. Not that it mattered what the hell Nico wanted. “When are you moving into his place?”

It was a fair question, a fair assumption, but I had no clue. The damn man announced we were getting married today, this morning. I had no idea what his plans were. Ideally, it would be leaving us here, but he said before that he wanted us to share a bedroom, a bed. Of course, he could have been lying. After all, he uttered quite a bit of those.

Hannah’s giggling sounded from the living room. I turned my head, hoping I could spot her form from here instead of having to hunt her down. That little girl would become a troublemaker.

I noticed the men were now inside too. Frowning, I wondered what was going on. Grace and Ella leaned to the side, glancing curiously into the living room. Nancy raised an eyebrow at me in a questioning look.

I shrugged my shoulders. “No clue what is going on.”

Grace and Ella stood up, heading inside.

“They are watching something on the television,” Ella explained.

Nancy and I followed behind them. I couldn’t see anything except for Luciano’s and Nico’s wide shoulders, while Cassio and Luca leaned against the opposite wall, watching whatever was on TV.

“What’s going on?” I questioned.

Luciano shifted his big body, opening the view and that’s when I saw it. I stopped dead in my tracks, in the middle of the living room, everybody forgotten.

My first wedding played on the big screen. The father-daughter dance part.

“The father requested a special dance with his daughter,” the announcer’s voice blasted through the television, and the tunes of Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road Jack” started. My dad’s big, happy grin as he wiggled his finger for me to join in.

I looked too young to be married. Clueless about what life was about to bring to our doorstep.

The younger version of me laughed, shaking my head, but he insisted. Dad was a bomb on the dance floor, he had his own groove, and we often danced when I was growing up to his favorite songs.

“No, Dad,”my voice sounded through the television,“not in front of everyone.”

My hands covered my face but he refused to let it go.“Let’s show them how it’s done, Bee.”

I shook my head, pleading on my face though I was smiling. It was my grandma that ushered me onto the floor, joining our dance.

“I’m never going to live this one down,”the younger version of me complained, though a wide smile played on my face. It was incredible how well the cameraman captured the moment. Dad and Grandma always made me happy.

Dad and I broke into our moves, all the childhood years spent dancing in our living room put to good use on the dance floor. Our hands moved up and down, left and right, both of us laughing. Grandma wasn’t far behind us, she just moved a bit slower.

“Oh, sí,”she announced laughing.“I got the moves.”

The guests both on the screen and in my living room chuckled. It was a bittersweet moment and my chest squeezed. I missed them so much. Life was simpler back then. Dad wasn’t happy that William and I decided to get married. He thought we were too young, he wasn’t good enough, but he supported me nonetheless. It was what made Dad the best father I could have ever wished for.

“Mom, how come you and Dad didn’t dance?” Hannah's question pulled me out of the TV moment. “You and Nico danced.”

William and I never had our husband and wife dance. He hated to dance and refused to do it, even for our wedding day. But my dad loved to dance, so he and John stepped in.

---