Page 28 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins

She crosses her arms, defensive. "Don't bother explaining. It's ancient history."

That makes me laugh, a harsh sound that has her eyes snapping to mine. Ancient history? Every moment with her is seared into my brain. The way she'd looked at me that night six years ago, trust and desire in her eyes. The soft sounds she'd made. The guilt that followed.

I want to tell her she's wrong, that everything she thinks she knows about last year is wrong. But the words stick in my throat. Because maybe she's better off believing I didn't care. Maybe it's safer that way.

"Maybe I didn't handle things well before, but?—"

"But what?" She steps closer, and the scent of her perfume makes my head spin. "What changed?"

Everything. Nothing. I open my mouth, but no words come out. How can I tell her the truth when I can barely admit it to myself?

"My problem is you." The words rip from my throat before I can stop them.

Gia recoils like I've slapped her. Her face drains of color, and she spins toward the door.

"Wait." I lunge forward, catching her arm. "That came out wrong."

She tries to pull away, but I hold firm. "Let me go, Max."

"No, damn it." Frustration claws at my chest. Every time I open my mouth, I make things worse. "I'm not saying this right."

"You're saying it perfectly clear." Her voice quavers despite her attempt to sound cold. "I'm a problem. Message received."

“Fuck,” I growl in frustration. “I’ve never forgotten that night, Gia. It’s a beautiful memory, and it was so wrong.”

“I get it,” she snaps as she continues to try and tug her arm free.

I know I need to let her go, should back off and maintain the careful distance I've kept all these years. But having her here, in my space, watching her with the kids, it's breaking down every wall I've built.

“I’m the problem and it was a mistake. Now let me go.”

“Dammit… Gia, I'm not good at saying what I mean. At feeling…"

She finally turns to face me, those green eyes scorching hot as they look up at me. "Then try harder."

I release her arm, hoping she’ll wait and hear me out. “I’m your godfather, and I…” I close my eyes because it feels so wrong.

Gia inhales sharply.

"You were barely more than a kid. And I was your brother's best friend. Your mother trusted me to look after you, and I…" I drag a hand down my face feeling like a pervert. "It was wrong. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't…" I swallow hard. "I couldn't say no to you, but Jesus… you were so young. I?—”

"No.” She gives me a small shove in the chest. “You don't get to rewrite history. I wasn't some innocent child you corrupted. I knew exactly what I was asking for, what I wanted, needed from you."

"You were eighteen." The words scrape my throat raw. "I was thirty-five. Your godfather, for Christ's sake."

"Stop saying that like it's something dirty." She pushes me again. "You were my friend, Max. Always only my friend. I trusted you."

“You had a crush?—”

“Yeah, well, that’s gone now, so you don’t have to worry.”

This is going so fucking wrong. I should give up. Let it go. There’s no righting this wrong.

“If all I am to you is a god-child that you’re obligated to protect, then that’s all you need to do. Just keep our distance?—”

“It’s not that easy.”

"Why not? It seemed easy enough for you last year."