Page 28 of Gardener for the Mafia

“You’re the only person I ever want to spend my life with,” I whisper, reaching inside my suit jacket and taking out the silk lined ring box. I open it to reveal an elegant diamond ring with a beautifully sized and intricate rock. “Lena Kayla Jenkins, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

Her mouth falls open in cute shock, and then she brings her hands to her face and gasps, waving at her eyes as though she can shoo away the tears.

But they come, coursing joyfully down her cheeks.

“Yes,” she cries. “A million, billion, ga-frickin’-jillion times yes!”

I slide the ring onto her finger and leap forward, throwing my arms around her and pulling her deep into my embrace.

“We’re going to be so happy,” I whisper, kissing away her warm, salty tears. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

“Forever,” she croaks, her smile making her whole face shine. “And ever and ever, Lorenzo.”

Epilogue

One Year Later

Lena

I sit in the dressing room taking deep breaths, looking at myself in the mirror and trying to let calm waves wash over me. I’m wearing a loose fitting kaftan, because the baby weight from Hope and Grace hasn’t quite gone yet.

And by hasn’t quite gone, I mean it’s still there, pretty much.

I smooth my hands over my hair to tame the spiraling auburn and then take yet another deep breath, as though I’m trying to win the deep breath olympics or something.

I almost leap out of my skin when the door pushes open. I turn to find Lorenzo filling the frame, Hope cradled to his chest with one hand and Grace with the other. The light from the hallway spills in behind him and dimly I can hear the crowd from the theater drifting over to us, talking quietly.

I’m doing my first proper gig, arranged as a stylish night in a theater instead of at a bar or a club because I wanted to slowly ease myself into it. I’ve been releasing music online this whole past year, and a few of my songs have even gone a little viral, giving me two hundred thousand followers on social media.

But this gigging game is new to me, and the nerves buzz around me like frantic summer bees.

“You’re going to do amazingly well,” Lorenzo says, closing the door with his elbow.

He softly carries Hope and Grace to the cribs in the corner, which Lorenzo insisted were included with the room so that Grace and Hope could come and support their Mommy on her big night.

“Do you think so?”

I kneed my thighs through the kaftan, letting out sighs that are supposed to calm me, but only send more nerves surging through me. Lorenzo smiles over the cribs, reaching down to adjust their blankets, and then walks over to me.

He leans down and takes my hands in his, pulling me to my feet. I fall against him and immediately the calm I’ve been looking for washes over me, a whelm of relaxation smoothing every part of me.

“Jesus, I should’ve thought this through,” he laughs. “Pushing you up against me like this is giving me some pretty frickin’ savage ideas.”

I giggle, nudging him playfully in the side. “It’s so funny when you say frickin’, my king,” I banter. “I mean, I’m happy you do. I don’t want the girls’ first words to be a curse word, but it’s just so frickin’ funny.”

“But it’s true,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing my neck, and then up, to my cheek, leaving a blossoming trail of warmth all over my face. “You’re too perfect. It’s too easy to imagine all the things I should be doing to you right now. I’m just glad the girls are here to tame the savage in me.”

I roll my eyes, seriously, the hardest eye roll there’s ever been. I’m surprised they don’t go out of my head.

“What?” he chuckles, reading me.

“It’s just, are you serious? I’m about as frumpy as frumpy can be right now. I haven’t even started to get rid of the baby weight.”

He narrows his eyes, confusion writ across his features. “Do you think I care about that?” he laughs warmly. His eyes gleam as brightly as his silver threaded hair. His square jaw twitches in his content smile. “You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every time I look at your curvaceous figure, I’m reminded of how you carried our offsprings, of how your ample breasts feed Hope and Grace …”

“Nah uh,” I giggle, slapping his hot iron chest. “I know that look, bad boy. It’s not time for your feeding yet. Maybe later, though.”

He laughs and I giggle, but there’s a note of lust beneath each sound, and when our eyes meet I just know that if Hope and Grace weren’t here we’d give into our animal desire.

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