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“Coast?” Zoe called, rushing through the house with Lainey and our son in tow. “Did you hear?”

“That Ryland finally killed his car? Yeah, heard that.”

“No. Theothernews,” she said, eyes bright, glancing down at Lainey.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I just heard. How are we feeling about that?” I asked.

“Like we should go out to celebrate,” she said, shooting me a big smile.

There’d been a scare a few years back when Lainey innocently moved into the frame on one of Lainey’s live videos on one of her socials. She’d been a huge hit—the little mini-me of her mother. And a certain sperm donor showed up in Zoe’s DMs, talking about them monetizing their daughter.

We’d both been firmly against that shit.

And Travis had started to push.

Until I showed up at his doorstep to remind him to back the fuck off.

“I mean,” Zoe said, lips curving up in a wicked little smile, “Iwasthe one to tip off the feds a few years back. I just didn’t realize they’d actually been building a case.”

My woman.

A constant fucking surprise.

Yeah, we definitely needed to celebrate.

“Casa Nostra?” I asked, knowing her spot. Ever since that night she met Tony Barelli—our friendly, local mob boss—we’d been going there for just about every life event. And often just because.

“What are we celebrating?” Lainey asked, looking up at her mother.

Zoe’s gaze slid in my direction.

“The end of one chapter,” she said.

We would tell her the beginning of her story one day. Just not quite yet.

“And the beginning of the best one yet,” I agreed, pulling Zoe close and pressing a kiss to her temple.

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