Thirteen
Molly
Two months later
I felt a strange kind of peace, walking into the shelter with one hand on my belly and the other in Enzo’s.
The air still smelled like cheap coffee and dog shampoo, though my stomach didn’t lurch.
Nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
I wasn’t just Molly anymore.
I was Molly, fiancée of Enzo Moretti, the Moretti capo who had taken out three Genovese soldiers without blinking.
Molly, soon-to-be mother of Enzo’s child.
Enzo squeezed my hand.
“Want me to wait in the car?” he asked.
“You’re volunteering to leave? You usually hover like a mother hen,” I said.
“Well, I thought I’d be generous. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to let you do this,” he said.
I tilted my head. “Let me?”
He gave me a quick kiss.
“You heard me, doll.”
I stared at him, still in a black suit.
Still dangerous. But different now.
Enzo would never be soft, but I saw in gentleness when he looked at me.
Saw the love all over his face.
Saw that he loved me, just as I loved him.
That I was his and he was mine.
Forever.
I smiled brighter.
“The doctor said it was fine. And soon enough, I won’t be able to work anyway, so thank you for letting me enjoy this.”
Enzo
“This is nice,” I said later that afternoon after I’d finally gotten Molly to leave the shelter.
I had killed men with quieter hands than the ones I was now using to fold baby clothes.
Molly sat on the floor of our bedroom, surrounded by onesies and tiny socks and a baby book that had her tearing up every other page.
“You’re crying again,” I said when she didn’t answer.
She sniffled. “Hormones. And also, have you seen this stuff? It’s so tiny. Can you believe our baby is going to be this small?”
I glanced down at the tiny socks and tried to stop myself getting emotional.
“You have a point,” I said.
She smiled at the look on my face and set the book down.
“Come here.”
“I’m busy,” I said.
“Come here, Enzo.”
I went.
Because I always fucking did.
And I always fucking would.
She pulled me down until I sat between her legs, my back against her chest, and her hands rubbing circles over my shoulders.
“I love you, Enzo Moretti,” she whispered in my ear.
“Not nearly as much as I love you,” I said.
I kissed her and then pulled back.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“Another one? I mean, you already gave me a baby,” she said.
“Yup, another one.”
I pulled an envelope out of the baby book.
“Were you hiding that in my book?” she said.
“Yeah, I mean with all the crying, I figured you’d never make it to the end.”
She slapped my arm and then took the envelope.
“It’s for after the baby comes,” I said.
She opened the envelope and read the paper.
“Plane tickets. To Rome,” she said.
I watched her, trying to gauge her reaction.
“You told me how much your grandmother loved travel shows about Rome. I know she never got to go, so I thought we could.” I rubbed her stomach.
“The three of us.”
Her eyes softened, and she kissed me again.
Then she pulled back.
“I can’t believe how much things have changed since that night,” she said.
I entwined my fingers with hers.
“Yeah, I guess I should thank Fabiano for trying to—” I said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she interjected.
“I love you, Molly,” I said, staring up into those beautiful brown eyes.
“I love you, too, Enzo,” she said.
I kissed her, but she pulled back.
I stared down at her.
“What’s wrong?” I said, my voice tense.
“Nothing,” she said, a smile on her face as she grabbed my hand and pressed it against her bump.
She looked into my eyes, and I knew the love I saw there was reflected tenfold in mine.
“I think the baby just kicked,” I said as I smiled through unshed tears.
Thank you for reading!