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It took me a year to find the same make and model in decent condition. I had it repainted and reupholstered, making it anexact replica of the car my father had cherished. When Damien and I were kids, he’d make us stay up late and help him fix it up.

The car meant so much to him.

Now, it means so much to me.

Genesis sits on a mechanic stool with wheels, and I drag her toward me.

She stares at the car, as if recollecting her own memories from it. “I remember Melissa used to beg him to drive it, and he’d always say no.” A smile forms on her face. “One time, he grounded her because she was inside,fakedriving, and he said even that was dangerous with her.”

I brush a hand across my cheek. “She did wreck her car a good ten times. One of those times, she crashed into my father’s SUV. He didn’t trust her behind the wheel much.”

“Did he let you drive it?”

“Hell no. He didn’t letanyonedrive it. It was his pride and joy. He’d only take it out for date nights with my mother.”

She slides off the stool, standing, and squeezes herself between my legs. “Telling me that was dangerous.” She plants a tender kiss to my cheek, resting her hand on my thigh.

“Why?” I close my arm around her waist, dragging her closer.

“Because tomorrow, you’re taking me out for a date night and driving this.”

37

The car matchesJulian’s father, Carlo’s, car to a T.

The blue leather seats, the AM/FM radio and 8-track, and the black-cherry air freshener that hangs from the rearview mirror.

I only know what an 8-track is because I asked his father when he was working on the car, and I looked inside.

“Where are we going?” I ask Julian.

“You’ll see,” he replies from behind the large vintage steering wheel.

It looks almost comical, watching him drive it.

I’m so used to him looking all intimidating in the Escalade.

It’s three in the afternoon. He was gone for most of the day, working at the casino, while I hung out at home. A few days ago, I asked Lora if she had any shelter work I could do from home. She suggested I help with social media, so I’ve been spending my free time doing that and writing up lesson plans.

Other than Darcy and the priest, no one knows about our marriage.

It sucks because I want to scream it from the rooftops, but I understand why I have to keep quiet.

“Can I have a hint?” I whine.

“Food.” That’s the lame hint he gives me.

My face falls. “Can I get another?”

“Don’t be greedy, Gen.”

“You’re the one being greedy with the hints, mister.”

Shaking his head, he fights back a smile. It’s a regular move from him. Lord forbid, he smiles once in a while.

These Mafia men think they’ll burst into flames if they show any emotion other than rage.

“How about you control the music?” He leans forward to tap the console.