Page 41 of Broken Mafia Bride

“It’s twenty-six minutes to eight. Are you sure you’re going to make it?” I ask him. “You really should have opted for a later flight.”

“I’m done already. I just need to toss my toothbrush in, and I’m ready to go.”

My eyes fall to his bare feet. “You’re not wearing socks yet.”

He follows my gaze to his own feet, then bites out a curse, racing back into the room. I hear my daughter giggle from the doorway.

“Baby, you need to get dressed,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to open the shop today, and I’m running super late.”

“I don’t want to go to school today,” she pouts, blinking big blue eyes up at me. “I’m going with Uncle Marco.”

“No, you’re not,” I snap. “You’re starting to piss me off.” I hold out the dress to her. “Get dressed and grab your bag. You’re going to be late.”

Her bottom lip starts to tremble. “But I wanna go with Uncle Marco.”

“You don’t want to stay with me anymore?”

“There’s a lady in the woods who says Italy has prettier birds. She said I’d like it there.”

I frown. “What lady?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. She waved at me when I was playing by the back trees. She smiled like she knew me.”

A chill dances up my spine, but I force a smile. “You’ve got a wild imagination, you know that?”

“I’m not lying,” she mutters. “Come with us. Uncle Marco says you’ll love his town. There are thousand-year-old buildings, gelato, and real pizza.”

“Uncle Marco has a life there, a job and a family,” I tell her as softly as I can. “We have our own life here. Now stop all this talk about leaving. Get dressed. Now!”

“No!” she screams, running off.

I press the bridge of my nose, trying to fight off the headache that’s beginning to pulse at the side of my skull. I don’t have the energy to fight with my daughter—not today. She’s been makingher plans to go back to Italy with Marco clear from day one, but I thought she was just being sentimental.

“Are you all right?”

I open my eyes slowly and meet Marco’s concerned ones. He finally has his socks on, and his shoes are loosely held in one hand. I can’t believe it’s been two weeks already. Where did the time go?

It feels like just yesterday I walked into Noemi’s school and nearly had a heart attack when they told me her father had picked her up. Having him here has been amazing—I’ve finally had some time for myself.

Watching how incredible he is with Noemi makes me question everything, especially my decision to keep her away from Chicago and Raffaele. Am I letting another man take his place? Am I allowing her to form a bond, to see the three of us as a family, just because I’m too much of a coward to tell her the truth? And in doing so, am I robbing Raffaele of the chance to be the father he could be?

But then there’s the deeper fear…

What if he isn’t a good father at all? What if I go back to Chicago and find that Raffaele has become exactly what we both swore we’d never be—a mirror of the men we were raised by?

“No,” I confess. “Noemi’s still insisting on following you to Italy, and I have no idea how to deal with that.”

“I’ll talk to her,” he tells me.

“I can’t continue letting you always fix things for me,” I sigh. “I’m her mother. I should?—”

“Hey, hey, look at me, Ariel.”

I raise my head and meet his eyes.

Part of me can’t even be mad at Noemi for acting out—I know I’d do the same if I were in her shoes. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him either. But I’m doing everything I can to keep it together, to put on a brave face.

“Do you really have to go?” I blurt out with a small, embarrassed smile.