Page 150 of He Should Be Mine

Carlo nods and tucks into his food. But I caught a flash of relief in his eyes. This means more to him than he is letting on, and now my curiosity is piqued.

I glance back over at Molly. This is one for him. He can ferret out the truth and let me know if I need to know.

I take a sip of my wine. It’s pleasant stuff.

“Why are you so happy?” Dante says.

My gaze flicks to him, but thankfully he is talking to Nicolo and not me. My secrets are safe. For now.

Nicolo swallows his mouthful of pasta. Then he reaches for his wine and gulps some down.

“What, me?” he tries with a fake innocent expression.

Dante’s eyes narrow. Nicolo sighs in defeat.

“My best friend is getting out of prison next week. It’s been five years.”

Congratulations and toasts flow around the table. Molly’s warmth is tangible. He may be new to the mafia, but he is not new to life on the wrong side of the tracks. He’s not scared of people who have been to prison. He understands that getting out is something to celebrate.

Nicolo beams at all the well-wishes. It’s nice to see him happy. He is a good kid. I’m proud to have him as one of my men. It was good of Enzo to let him go.

The evening drifts along. Good company. Good food. Good wine. All in my beautiful home with my beautiful Molly. I have never felt a happiness like this.

Eventually, it ends and our guests say their goodbyes. I walk them to the door. The rain has stopped, and the moon is shining. I give one final wave and then shut the door.

I pad quietly back to the dining room. Molly is stacking up the dirty plates. I don’t think he will ever get the hang of having people do things for him. Even if he does, I think he will always be kind enough to want to help the staff.

I stand here for a long moment, just watching him. My heart is full, too full. His slinky blue dress is catching the lamplight in shimmering ripples. His cheeks are still pink from wine and laughter, and there’s something so tender, so ordinary about the sight of him clearing a table after dinner that my heart does something strange.

He looks up and catches me staring. A smile curves across his lips. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect,” I say softly. “Let me help.”

Together, we gather the plates. He nudges me playfully with his hip as we move into the kitchen, and I let myself bask in the ease between us. Even after everything, after blood and guns and the brutal chess game of the Ajello family, we made it here. We made it home.

He starts rinsing plates. I stack them in the dishwasher, even though the staff will be in tomorrow to do a proper clean. Molly doesn’t care. He likes the ritual, the quietness of it, the domestic peace that he never had before.

“Carlo’s friend,” I say casually. “You think you’ll like him?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe he’ll like me.”

I frown. “What’s not to like?”

Molly chuckles. “That’s very biased of you.”

“Of course it is.”

He glances sideways at me, and something in his gaze softens. “It’s nice, you know. Having dinner. Being... normal.”

I place the last dish in the machine and turn to him. “You are my normal now.”

He bites his lip and looks down, embarrassed at my profound soppiness, but pleased. His fingers are wet from the dishes. I take them gently in mine and bring them to my mouth, kissing his knuckles. “You’re my forever.”

His eyes flick up to mine, wide and soft. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

A silence stretches, full of meaning.