Page 22 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

How is that my kid? When did she become so sassy? And how is she so damn smart?

Another knock sounds, and I walk down the hall, grab the door handle, and open it.

Cora is standing there in an all-black outfit.

“You’re here.” I throw my arms around her neck and hold on tight.

“Of course I am.” She squeezes back. “Jasmine says she wishes she could be here, but she’s in Europe. She isn’t able to come to the states right now.”

“It’s okay. That’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

“How are you feeling?” she asks, taking a step inside.

“Sorry about the mess. We’re still unpacking.”

“I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re home. I can’t believe what your dad did to you. I can’t believe you’ve been all alone.” Her voice breaks, and I take her hand as she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t. You raised two kids on your own. That had to be hard.”

“It is,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to Oliver, who is watching TV. “But it’s amazing. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“And the father is…” she lifts a brow. “Luca, right?”

I nod. “They don’t know, and he doesn’t know. I didn’t exactly get a chance to tell him.”

“You have to now, you know that, right? You’re here. He deserves to know he has kids.”

“I’ll tell him when all this with my father is over. One thing at a time.”

“Well, whatever you want me to do, I’m here for you. I’m happy to watch the kids when you need me to. I’ll be the coolest Aunt Cora ever.”

“I don’t doubt that.” I grab a black dress on a lone hanger in the closet and exhale while staring at it. “It’s surreal that this is happening.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, sitting on the couch against the wall. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

“I don’t know.” I get dressed, slip on the dress, then look in the mirror while I clip my hair back. “I can’t figure out what I’m feeling.”

The bathroom door opens, and Olivia comes out in a towel. It’s wrapped around her body, and she has another wrapped around her hair.

Sassy.

Cora chuckles.

“I’m done, Mommy. I told you. I’m a big girl.”

“And you were right.” I get her dressed, a simple black dress like mine, nothing special, and I braid her hair into pigtails.

There’s no time for Oliver to bathe, so I dress him in a black shirt and pants, then wet his hair to style it.

“Are we ready to go?” I ask, snagging my purse.

“Why are we dressed so sad?” Oliver asks, grabbing Cora’s hand as we walk out the door.

Cora’s face beams with excitement.

“This is what you wear when you say goodbye to someone.”

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