by B. B. Hamel
“I hated you, you know,” I said, voice soft. “When we first met.”
“I hated you too. Well, I was happy you weren’t ugly.”
“But it wasn’t really you, it was all of you. All you mafia guys.” I chewed my lip and realized something. It hit me, nearly overwhelming, and I knew without a doubt that we’d made the right choice—because if we hadn’t, we never could have been happy. Even if we made all the right choices, the families, the crews, they would’ve torn us apart. I would’ve hated him, resented him, and sooner or later, he would’ve felt it and returned the feeling.
There was no other way. We had to leave if we ever wanted to have a chance to be happy together, and now we did it. We did it, and we’re free.
“I’m sorry your friend couldn’t see this,” he said. “I’m sure he would’ve been happy.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. He would’ve wanted me to get out.”
“You know something? I’ve never been out of Philly before.”
I snorted. “Really?”
“Seriously. Never had a reason to. That was my whole damn world.”
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am.” He leaned toward me. “So where do you want to be?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“How’s California sound? Or maybe Seattle?”
“Seattle,” I said, not sure why. “Let’s go to Seattle.”
“Sounds good to me.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’ve got money, you know. Got a few hundred thousand in the bank. I’ll take it out over the next few weeks, never stay in one spot for long. I figured we’ll drive around for the next month, slowly make our way out west. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like fun. Can we see the Grand Canyon?”
“Cora, darling, we can see whatever the fuck you want.”
I laughed, ate my cheesecake, drank my diet Coke, and let myself hope—for the first time in my entire life—that things might be better for me, that I might let myself be happy.
When we finished, he paid the bill and led me back to the car. We got inside and started driving, and I fell asleep with my head against the window, a smile on my lips.
27
Cora
Two Years Later
I stood at the front window tapping nervously against my thigh. The house was quiet and dark and always felt so empty when Reid was working—which was more and more these days. Not that I minded, it kept him out of trouble and brought in a lot of money, but sometimes I felt lonely.
That lonely feeling wouldn’t last long. I chewed on my lip and felt a thrill when I saw the headlights of his limo round the corner and park in the driveway. Ever since we landed in Seattle, he’d thrown himself into business driving clients around, starting out with a tiny fleet of one single car, and building it up to where it was today: ten cars, ten drivers, including his own. They were doing fantastic business and he seemed to love it, though it kept him out at odd hours sometimes.
He slammed the door shut and came up the front porch steps. They creaked under his weight the way they always did, and I’d begun to associate that sound with joy—pure, unbridled joy at having him come home. I stood in the living room, nervously shifting from foot to foot, as he came inside and stomped his boots to get the rain off then sat on the front step and peeled them off.
“Hey, you,” I said.
He looked up and smiled a little. “Startled me. Didn’t expect you to still be up.”
“It’s only midnight.”
“Sure, but you’ve been tired lately.” He stood and stretched. “How’s my wife?”
“I’m good.” I drifted to him and kissed his neck then his lips. “Better now.”
“I bet.” He smirked and kissed me longer, deeper, and even after a couple of years, the thrill hadn’t passed, not even a little bit.
“Was it hard tonight?” I asked, and I knew I was avoiding having the conversation I needed to have—because I wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“Ah, you know, not bad.” I followed him into the kitchen—granite countertops, big farmhouse sink, everything renovated in the last year as the money started to roll in. “An old couple needed a ride home from the airport. The guy liked to talk, but, you know, it’s part of the job.”
“How are the others doing?”
“James is out all night, I think Barb has a ride in an hour or two. Quiet otherwise.”
“That’s good.”
He took a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top off, and took a long drink. When he finished, he looked at me, head tilted to one side. He wore his work uniform: dark slacks, light button-down shirt, and it was strange, seeing him now compared to the man I used to know. He didn’t look any different, but there were subtle changes—no lump where he carried a gun, though he kept one in the glove box, no anger in his eyes, no tension in his shoulders. I sometimes wondered if that mafia bastard I married back in Philly ever really existed.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, frowning at me.
“Yeah, of course.” I stalked past him to the sink and took a deep breath. “I’m totally, totally fine.”
“Right, it’s just that you haven’t been up to welcome me home from a late-night drive in a while. So I’m sort of wondering what the deal is.”
“Come on, can’t a wife welcome her husband home?”
He laughed and walked over, kissing my neck. “You can come upstairs and give me all the welcome I can handle.”
I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back, chewing my lip. “Look, uh, we should talk.”
“There it is.” He drifted back to the island and leaned against it.
I turned away and looked at the cabinets, just to have something to do. They were new, a deep brown color, freshly stained and finished. Reid did a lot of the work himself, though he hired guys to do what he couldn’t, and the place looked fantastic. We bought it six months after moving into the area, and back then it was a beat-up, tiny little place, but he’d done so much to it since then it was like a whole new house. Part of me was afraid he couldn’t be happy in Seattle, so far from the hustle and bustle of a city like Philadelphia, but he seemed so content, so quiet, and it made me happy to see that he could be a different man, that he could blend into a new world.
Because I loved it here. There was nowhere in the world I’d rather be, and every day I felt lucky that I managed to escape my family. I heard rumors on social media that Vincent was pissed off, that he was looking for us, but those whispers quickly dropped away when the next big drama happened and they got distracted. Now I figured they’d forgotten about the two of us, and that was fine by me.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said, even though that was definitely a lie.
“Okay then. Spill it out if it’s no big thing.”
I turned to face him again, heart racing. “I don’t want you to freak out. Just please don’t freak out.”
“The more you stall, the worse it’s gonna be.” He took another long drink then put the beer down.
I nodded to myself then reached into my pocket. I took out a short stick wrapped in toilet paper then held it up to him, opening the side so that he could see the white plastic beneath. He squinted at it, frowning, head tilted—then pulled back, eyes wide.
“Is that—are you kidding?”
I put the pregnancy test down on the counter next to me. “I’m pregnant.”
For a long moment, I thought he’d yell at me, thought he’d storm out, thought he’d scream. We’d never talked about kids, even though we fucked constantly, but we were careful—condoms most of the time at least. Apparently though we hadn’t been careful enough lately, and now, well, now I was knocked up.
His eyes lit up with pure joy and laughter spilled out of his chest. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m serious. I’m pregnant. I know we didn’t talk about this but—”
He grabbed me and pulled me against him, laughing and hugging me. “Oh my go
d, this is amazing! This is so great!”
I stared up at him. “You’re not mad?”
“Why the hell would I be mad?” He kissed me and I could feel his heart racing. “This is the best news I’ve ever gotten.”
“I thought… maybe you didn’t want kids.”
“Cora, I want a family with you. I want as many kids as you want.”
I started crying. It was a stupid reaction, I know, but I couldn’t help myself. The tears spilled out and I sobbed, and he hugged me tight against him, laughing, trying to comfort me, but clearly too happy to do a good job. Eventually I calmed myself, and we stood in our kitchen together for a while, hugging each other, talking about the future.
“This wasn’t the plan, you know,” I said after a while, looking down at the floor.
“Fuck the plan. You were never part of my plan, none of this was, but I bet I’d be dead now if we hadn’t met. So fuck the plan. Let’s have a baby and make a family.”
“Yeah.” I laughed, kissed him, and took his hand. “All right. I can do that.”
He led me upstairs, up to our bedroom, and I knew I had so much to look forward to.
Read the mafia books that started it all! Obsessed with His Bride begins the story of the Leone Crime Family. Dante meets his match in Aida, though she resists his intense charms at first. But when a war breaks out, Aida must give in to her desire or end up dead. I’ll kill to keep her. I’ll do much worse to make her my bride. >> Click Here to read it!
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Also by BB Hamel
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Series include the Leone Crime Family, Steamy Daddies, SEAL Team Hotties, Love to Hate, Baby Daddy, Miracle Babies, and more.
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XO, BB