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“Okay, when you come back, will you go through these clothes and let me know what I can take to the veteran’s home? Some of the guys are young, and I think it would make them feel good to wear brand-name clothes and Rattlers gear.”

“You decide. You know what I wear most of the time.”

He charges downstairs, and I hear the shuffling of feet and the delivery men’s voices. “Tilt it, cut to the left. Okay, you go up backward.”

But what I hear next is unexpected. John says, “Dad.”

John points the delivery men into the baby’s room, and his dad says, “Good to see you, Becca. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. Were you… in the area?” He lives in LA but has been overseas since Mr. Saccone was arrested.

He looks down at his athletic shoes, takes off his baseball cap, then places it back in his head. “Sorry to just show up, but I thought John could use some help putting baby furniture together.”

His dad isn’t exactly the paternal type, but he was only an asshole because he trying to protect John. It doesn’t excuse him for the mess he made and for being so hard on John growing up. John wants a relationship with him, so I say, “We appreciate it. How long will you be staying? I’ll change the sheets on the guest room bed.”

“If it’s okay, I’d love to stay and go to the game tomorrow.”

John’s eyes light up. He’s desperate for his father’s love. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been so lucky in my life and realize so many others don’t grow up the way I did, in a two-parent household with no substance abuse or parents who place demands on you. Essentially living through their kids instead of making their own lives. Cheer parents can be like that too, so when I start the stunt and tumble trainings and then a competition team, I’ll have to keep that in mind.

“Absolutely. I need someone to sit with. I haven’t had time to meet the other wives or girlfriends yet.”

John gives his dad a loving slap on the back. “Dad, we’re happy you’re here, but I do have one question. Is it safe for you to be here? I… I…” He stammers, and it’s the first time I’ve heard him stutter since vacation when he was nervous. “I can’t put Becca or the baby in harm’s way.”

His dad grabs John’s cheeks. “The whole reason for what I did was to keep you safe, and I’ll do the same for you and your family. The feds called me yesterday and said it was safe. They’ve frozen all his assets, and Saccone’s attorney quit. They said all known associates are in custody. But if you want me to leave, I will.”

John glances at me, then his eyes meet his father’s. John’svoice is strained when he says, “Stay with us.” Then he pauses before adding in a playful tone, “Now help me get this furniture together.”

I watch Mr. Basilio follow John into the bedroom next door, and I can’t help but feel relieved that this nightmare John has been through is over.

Three hours later, our master bedroom is organized, and John calls me into the nursery.

The furniture is gorgeous, a light-brown color with antique-looking spindles and a chest of drawers that matches. John has changed out the drawer pulls to stars in navy blue. We’re going with the Americana look for the nursery in his home.

It's obvious he’s proud of himself as he grins from ear to ear. “Do you want the crib here or over there? I know you were contemplating where it should go.”

Reality strikes, and tears form. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He drops his hands from his hips and takes two strides, enveloping me in his powerful but loving arms.

“Oh, I’m far from it, but we’re perfect together.” He hugs me tight, lifting me off the floor, swinging my legs wildly. He peppers my neck with kisses, nuzzling his nose under my ear.

His dad says to John, “I’ll get dinner from that Italian place you love.”

His dad must see my face scrunch up because he adds, “Becca, if you don’t want Italian, I can grab whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry, marinara hasn’t been agreeing with me.”

“It’s the smell. How about Mediterranean?” John asks, knowing exactly what I’ve been craving.

I offer a satisfied grin. “Yes, that sounds sooo good. I want a falafel and chicken shawarma.” They think I’m done, but then I say, “And some hummus and that tzatziki sauce.”

“Dad, they have a family platter that has everything she wants. I think it’s number seventeen, then just get whatever you want.”

“You got it, son. Send me the address. I need to make a stop at the mall too, so I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

After he walks past us, John winks and tickles me. “You know what we have time for?”

“Yeah, to decorate this room.”

“Very funny, pretty thing.” John tosses me up, catching me in his arms honeymoon style, and takes me to bed.