Page 69 of Mafia Fire

Nonna dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “Meh, a glass of red wine here and there.”

Booker eyes Nonna. “And a shot of whiskey every day before her nap,” he tells the doctor.

“Ah, I see.” The doctor looks at Nonna. “Alcohol can lower blood sugar. Let’s stay off the hard stuff for now, Nonna, and see how you’re feeling.”

“Fine, fine,” she says. “Just don’t take my bread away.”

“Bread is not an issue,” the doctor says.

“She likes it soaked in wine,” Cannon offers.

“Of course.” The doctor nods.“Pane vino e zucchero.Yes. Let’s keep that to a once-a-week treat, shall we? In the meantime, we have a medication that will help you keep your sugars where they need to be.”

The shot is once a week, in her stomach or thigh. The nurse shows Booker and me how to administer the medication. Booker makes it clear he’ll be happy to be the one responsible.

The big man is very attached to my little grandmother. He’s so gentle with her, smiling softly and telling her to squeeze his hand if it hurts.

Grimy from our evening sleeping in chairs, we’re all very much ready to go when they hand us the discharge paperwork.

“Thank God she’s alright. I cannot wait to get a hot shower.” Cannon twirls the ring of his car keys on the end of his finger. “Let’s go home.”

“Actually,” I glance down at my sneakers. I’ve thought a lot about this, and I’ve made up my mind. “I was hoping you could take us to our home. I think Nonna could use the rest, somewhere quiet.”

I tell myself that my decision has nothing to do with Catherine.

He stops twirling his keys, catching them in his fingers and closing his hand into a fist. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t raise my gaze.

There’s a tightness around the edges of his words. “Are you sure?”

Finally, I look at him. “Yes. I am.”

“Okay. We’ll go by and pick up the things you need from home—I mean my place—and bring them back. And I’ll have a couple guys outside overnight.” I start to protest, but he lifts a brow. “That is non-negotiable.”

“Thank you.”

We pull up to the little yellow cottage and it takes me a moment to realize some changes have been made. The lawn is freshly mowed, the flowerbeds have obviously been weeded and watered in my absence, the blooms thriving. And no more peels of paint hang from the corners of the porch.

I turn to Cannon. He’s been watching me take in the house. “Did you have the house painted?”

He shrugs. “A little. And I had the creaky gate fixed and the yard done, just a few things to maintain it while you were away.”

“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”

“Anything for you, Kylie. You know that.” He brushes a kiss over my cheek before exiting the car to open my door.

Booker takes Nonna in to get her settled, leaving Cannon and me alone on the front porch for an awkward goodbye.

I have to ask the question that weighs so heavy on my mind ever since he told me about her. “What about Catherine? I don’t want to come between you and the one person you were meant to be with.”

“Catherine who? As soon as you came into my life, she was forgotten.” He gives a wicked grin. “Besides, she’s off to Rome.”

“Why? How?” I have to admit it’s a relief knowing she’s gone. Even if he says he doesn’t want her, having the space between us helps.

“I don’t know. Maybe someone gave her a little bit of what she really loves—cold hard cash—to make herself scarce.”

“You paid her off to leave?” I ask.

He reaches up, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I couldn’t have her here. I knew it would leave room for doubt for you and I want you to know, with certainty, you are the one for me. I love you, Kylie Barone.” He leans down, kissing the surprised gasp from my lips. “I love you.”

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