Epilogue #2
We hadn’t talked about that. About the aftermath of the attack.
About what happened to men who put their hands on someone who hit women under mafia protection.
Milo and his cousins had made it pretty clear that there were some things regarding Family business that I was going to have to be okay with not knowing.
When he’d come back to the hotel late the night before we headed up to Navesink Bank, I’d said nothing about the blood on his clothes.
I just followed him into the bathroom, where he hopped into the shower, gathered them up, and put them in a trash bag. Then stood at the sink to meticulously scrub his watch free of the stains.
I wasn’t na?ve.
The man who hit me was dead.
Milo had killed him.
I was dating someone who killed people.
For me.
Yet all I felt at that was a sense of safety.
He would do whatever he needed to do to make sure no one hurt me. And if they did, they would pay for it. Ruthlessly.
And I was okay with that.
I wouldn’t be in Navesink Bank with him if I wasn’t.
I knew exactly what I was getting into.
It was after dinner when everyone was still gathered in the dining room still and I was on my way back from the powder room when I heard it.
The small but growing sound of grumbling discontent coming from the den.
The baby that had been passed around like a coveted party favor earlier had been sleeping peacefully through our meal but was clearly gearing up for a full-on cry.
I hadn’t taken my turn to hold the sweet little thing earlier. I’d been too nervous. But with everyone having such a fun time in the dining room—laughter dancing down the hall toward me—I decided to fix that mistake and give them a few more moments of peace.
“Hey there,” I said as I walked up to the playard where the baby was thrashing around, getting red-faced as their little fists curled up in indignation.
“So, I’m going to try something. And I’d really appreciate it if you don’t, you know, scream bloody murder at me, okay?
” I asked as I scooped my hands under the tiny body and carefully pulled the baby into my arms like I’d seen everyone else doing.
“There you go. I’m not so scary, right?” I asked as I started to gently rock side to side in some natural-born instinct. “Oh. Oh, no,” I said as the grumbles started up again.
I panicked.
And just started to sing.
Was it one of my lounge songs instead of a lullaby? Yep. But you had to go with your talents.
The baby looked up at me with curious eyes for a long moment before letting out a big yawn, all gummy jaws and squishy cheeks.
Then, little by little, their eyes got heavy before fully closing and staying that way.
One song rolled into another, then another. I knew I could stop, could put the baby down and rejoin the party. But I couldn’t seem to make myself.
So I just kept rocking and singing.
Until something moved in the corner of my eye, making me turn to find out that just about the entire Grassi family had moved into the den to listen.
My gaze scanned the crowd and found Milo, who was watching me with a look that made my chest feel tight.
The second I finished singing, the baby jerked hard and woke up screaming.
“It’s not you,” the baby’s mother said, rushing forward. “It’s time for a bottle.”
With that, she made her way out of the room. The rest of the family followed.
But Milo walked toward me.
“Wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to see you singing to a baby,” he admitted, arms going around me, pulling me close.
“I wasn’t prepared for how much I would like it,” I admitted, melting into him.
“We gonna have one of those one day?” he asked.
“Just one?”
Milo - 6 months
Roe was in the kitchen, painstakingly wrapping all the glassware up in tissue paper before sliding it into the dividers in the moving box.
We still had three days to go before we moved into the new place, but she was determined to have it be a low-stress move. She wanted everything done ahead of time so there was no scrambling.
There wasn’t going to be anything to stress out about. Once my family descended on the apartment on moving day, they would handle it all from there. It was one of the many benefits of such a large family.
But she was ‘nesting,’ apparently (according to my mother) so I was just rolling with it.
“Right?” I asked Alley as she climbed up on my lap to take an afternoon nap.
The show I was watching turned over to the news, recounting random government shit, another mass shooting, and then, finally, something that had me sitting up straighter.
“American businessman Frank Martin died Monday night following a fall in the Greek town of Fira. Authorities said Martin’s death appears to be the result of an accidental fall.
“The incident has prompted renewed discussions about the safety conditions in the popular tourist destination, known for its steep stairways, dramatic elevations, and limited railings. Municipal officials stated that safety standards meet existing regulations.”
The camera panned to the other newscaster as they told a story about a dog who saved a missing toddler.
So.
Frank was dead.
Remo must have been popping the champagne.
I wondered which of his men (or his brothers) got a free vacation in Greece in exchange for one quick push.
“Did I just hear Frank’s name?” Roe asked, coming out of the kitchen, shoulders tensed.
Neither of us said it, but I think we were both holding onto some anxiety about him for the past six months. It felt like that chapter wasn’t fully over.
Now, I guess, it was time to turn the page.
“Yeah, freak thing. He fell down some stairs in Greece,” I said, putting on a shocked voice that had a smile stretching across her gorgeous face.
“Really? Wow. What a tragedy. Poor Remo is going to need to run that casino all by himself now.”
“I know. Maybe we should go pay him a visit. Give him our condolences,” I said, reaching for her when she got close, and pulling her down next to me.
Alley grumbled and jumped off my lap.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing what he’s been working on.”
“Maybe sing a set?” I prompted.
She always brushed me off when I brought it up, but I worried sometimes that she missed singing, missed having an audience.
“Maybe,” she agreed, curling into me. “Do you think this timing was purely selfish of Remo, or was the timing symbolic?”
“Knowing Remo, a bit of both. He knows we’re closing in a few days. Maybe it’s a housewarming present. But we’re also heading into the off-season for AC, so he probably wants to devote time and resources to renovations before spring comes around again.”
“Either way, it’s finally over.”
“It is.”
“I know your cousin owns an event venue,” she started, turning the ring on her finger so it caught the light.
“But?”
“But maybe it would be fun to have our wedding at the casino. When the renovations are done. The place is tragic right now.”
The casino would mean we had to push off the wedding for a while.
But I wasn’t in a rush.
We still had to move in to the house, make the place a home, take a vacation I’d been planning for her birthday.
There was a lot to look forward to.
And we had plenty of time for milestones.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“And everyone can stay at the hotel, so it’s all really safe.”
“And the beach and Boardwalk would make for some memorable wedding pictures.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s decided.”
“It is,” I told her, pressing my forehead to hers. “So, what do you want to do for dinner?”
“Is that even a question?” she asked, hopping right off the couch. “I’ll go get dressed.”
Yeah.
She’d been borderline obsessed with Famiglia since that first night I’d taken her to eat there. And when we weren’t eating there, we were ordering in from Lucky’s place.
I couldn’t believe I was even thinking it, but I was almost getting sick of my family’s food. I’d kill for a fucking burger and fries or Chinese.
But Roe was like a kid on Christmas morning each time we went. So I would choke down some more pasta and get something different on the way into work the next day.
“I’m dying for the ravioli,” she told me as she came out in one of her old stage dresses. “What?” she asked, pausing at the look I shot her. “Too much?”
It was the same dress she’d been wearing the first time I’d seen her, back when I couldn’t stop myself from walking up to her, from asking her out. Like I’d known from the moment I’d seen her. But had just written it off as attraction at first.
“Come here,” I demanded.
Her brows pinched, but she walked up in front of me.
I reached out, sliding my hand under her skirt, then drawing her panties down.
“Wanted to do this the first time I saw you in that dress,” I told her, leaning forward as my hands ruched up her skirt until it caught around her waist. Then I ducked my head and ran my tongue up the center of her.
A choked moan escaped her as her hands slapped down on my head, holding me against her as I licked and sucked, driving her up the way I knew she liked.
But she wasn’t satisfied with just that.
She pulled back, pushed me against the cushions, then climbed onto my lap.
Her hand went between us, working my cock out of my pants, then sliding it down her wet pussy before lifting up and sinking down.
Her moan mingled with my groan as she took me to the base.
She rode me hard and fast, our breaths going fast and shallow, our heartbeats hammering, her moans filling the apartment as she drove herself up.
Then she was shaking on the verge.
Before her walls were clenching around me as she came, the sensation taking me with her.
Her face was in my neck after, breath panting, body trembling softly.
“Now I have to go clean up,” she said, shooting me small eyes when she sat back.
“Don’t worry. They’ll find a table for us no matter when we show up.”
“The perks of sleeping with someone so well connected,” she teased, climbing off my lap and rushing into the bathroom.
Then we went to get her ravioli.
Roe - 1 year