Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“You know he once had a cold. A little baby cold. And refused to get out of bed for ten days. Ten. He smelled like a damn locker room. I had to sleep in my daughter’s room. Then toss the sheets. There are some stinks that no amount of perfumed laundry detergent can get out.
“What were we talking about?”
“Naps.”
“Right. So waddle yourself back into that fancy office of yours, put on some calming music, curl up on the couch, pull down that fuzzy blanket, and get some rest.”
“It’s only eleven.”
“And yet you’ve yawned three times just during this conversation.”
“You’re worse than Soren,” I grumbled. “He insists on walking behind me each time I go up the stairs. Every single time.”
“That’s a good man you have there. Besides, those steps are a deathtrap. I’ve been saying that from the beginning.”
“We’re having someone in to put up sides.”
The whole apartment was being picked apart with a fine-tooth comb by a baby safety expert. Seeing as neither of us had much experience with babies, we were being paranoid about getting every inch of the place baby-proofed.
We’d also taken parenting classes, birthing classes, and CPR and first aid classes.
Though a part of me really, really regretted the birthing documentary we watched. I was pretty sure I would have preferred to go into my own delivery just blissfully unaware of… all that.
“Well, thank God for that.”
“Thank God for what?” Soren asked, stepping out of the elevator.
“Our step plan.”
“Good. You’re here. Convince this woman of yours to take a nap, will you?”
“You were restless last night.”
“You try having someone use your bladder as a trampoline and see how well you sleep.”
“All the more reason for a nap,” Gina insisted.
“I have to agree.”
“Ugh. You guys teaming up against me is annoying.”
“See? She’s grouchy because she’s tired,” Gina said, nodding.
“It’s just my personality.”
“Come on. Let’s get you off those feet,” he said, glancing down at the slippers I was wearing because my feet had started swelling enough that I couldn’t fit in my old shoes anymore.
“Fine,” I grumbled.
I wouldn’t admit it to the two of them, but I was actually pretty tired. Which was nothing new. I’d been bone-deep tired my entire pregnancy. But I’d decided that it was a fair price to pay for the fact that I didn’t have my head in a toilet for three months like a lot of the other women in the family I knew who’d gotten pregnant around the same time.
“She switched me to decaf,” I told Soren, kicking off my slippers.
“She’s been slowly transitioning you to decaf for weeks,” he told me.
“You’ve been complicit in her tampering with my food?” He sat down on the sectional, avoiding eye contact. “Oh, my God. You’ve been doing it too.”
“I have,” he admitted, reaching for me. “And until today, you didn’t even notice.”
“Is there anything else you’ve been doing behind my back?” I asked as I settled against him.
“I’ve been setting up a trust for this little one,” he said, placing a hand on my belly. “And sending out Thank You cards for all that stuff clogging up the library.”
I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Getting the wedding ones out just in time for a bunch of baby stuff to come rolling in,” I said as his free hand hit that spot in my lower back he knew had been killing me since my belly went from bump to basketball.
“You know, Gina and T would be all too happy to help with all that sorting and such. They’re really excited to be aunties.”
They were.
It was sweet, actually.
The two of them were working on my baby shower with personal input from Lore, Cinna, Elizabeth, and all the other girls from the family.
“We’re going to be overflowing with help when the baby comes,” he said.
“Thank God. Because we have no idea what we are getting into.”
“You opened two businesses in a year, darlin’, you can do anything.”
“Well, that’s true.”
I was surprised how easily I hung up one hat and put on another. Especially when this particular hat didn’t allow for a lot of brass knuckles and kicking guys in the balls.
I guess that part was easily enough explained.
I no longer needed to hold onto my anger. I didn’t have to physically fight for respect.
And the same ambition that moved me up the ranks in the mafia helped me start to build my own little legit empire.
It had never been about wanting to be in the mob, per se. It had been that becoming a part of the Lombardi family had been the only path off the street, the only way I could grab and hold power and find the safety that came along with a family and wealth.
And while, no, I could no longer claim I was a mafia capo, I wasn’t exactly entirely out of the organization either. Renzo was moving money through Alibi and my other two businesses as well.