Page 171 of Mafia King's Secret Baby

“With all my heart,” Caterina says softly.

I shift my gaze up to hers. “Why are there tears, amore mio?” I say, gently tanking my thumb to the tracks of wetness and shifting them away from her eyes.

“Because I took all of that from you,” she whispers. “I didn’t think that you could be a good dad, so I didn’t even give you the chance.”

“What if you were right?”

She looks at me sharply. “What do you mean?”

“What if I’m not a good father? What if I have no idea how to do this?”

“Oh, Elio,” Caterina sighs. One of her hands drifts over to mine and she squeezes. “What do you think makes a good father?”

I frown.

There are many answers to that question. A father provides. Protects. A father is the one who anchors his family. Who they seek comfort from. Who they go to in times of trouble.

I think of my father, who often did those things. Whose approval I wished to have above anything else in the world. In many ways, his will brought me a wonderful life. If not for him and the deal he had with Caterina’s father, for example, I would not have her.

And I would not have Luna.

Yet, if think of myself as a father, I cannot picture that same role. My father was wonderful, but he was… hands-off.

I do not think that works for me.

She smiles. “I see you thinking.”

“I have my father for an example,” I admit. I loved my father very much, but I am not the type of father he was. “I loved him. But he was so…. Distant.”

Caterina nods. “Mine too. But my mother wasn’t. When I found out about her,” she whispers, tracing lines across Luna’s forehead.

“I knew that I wanted to be the type of mom that my mom was to me. Maybe even a little closer. So, that’s who I decided to be.”

My heart squeezes at that. We still don’t know who killed our parents.

And Caterina’s mother sounds lovely.

“So, Elio,” she smiles. “What type of father do you want to be?”

“Mom and Dad?” the nurse interrupts us.

We stand, and I realize that I responded to the title without thinking.

The nurse smiles. “We’re ready for her.”

We’re given an antibiotic for strep throat. Within twelve hours of taking it, Luna appears to be better. Her fever is diminished, and the next day, she’s even well enough to eat.

Caterina’s words haunted me all night.

What type of fatherdidI want to be?

One who Luna loved. One who guided her through her hard choices and supported her when she made the wrong ones. One that she could turn to in times of need.

One who admitted his own failures.

And one who stepped up to be a father despite his own fears.

With Caterina looking at me, I sidled into the chair next to Luna. “Hi Luna.”