Page 58 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins
"That's perfect, sweetie." The endearment slips out before I can stop it. I shouldn't let myself get too attached, shouldn't imagine what it would be like if these moments could last forever.
Dario tugs at my sleeve, eager to show me his art. "Mine is a ninja."
"A ninja turkey. I love it." I ruffle his hair, trying to ignore how right this feels.
“Okay, kiddos,” Gia announces. “We need to eat dinner.” She turns to me. “I hope you don't mind, but it’s macaroni and cheese with hotdogs tonight.”
“I love mac and cheese and hotdogs.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me. “Kids, clean up and wash up.”
The twins clean the table and run off to wash their hands as Gia gets the meal re-heated. “So, what happened?” she asks as she sets the large bowl of mac and cheese on the table.
I don’t want to talk about this now, but I can’t find a reason to put it off either. “I reported to Nic about Benny’s appearance.”
She whirls toward me, and panic fills her eyes. “Is he bringing me home?”
I swallow, noting that it appears she doesn’t want that to happen. Does she want to stay? But how can she? She can’t if our secret is to be kept.
“I have until Friday to find Benny.”
“What if you don’t?”
“If I do, or I don’t, either way, you’ll be going back to New York.” I try to be strong, stoic. The good soldier Nic is counting on.
She bites her lip and looks down. Then she turns away. She’s being the good Mafia princess, doing what she's told.
The world is fucked up when doing what’s right feels so wrong.
18
GIA
Two days. The thought stops me cold. Two days is all we have left before the kids and I head back to New York.
The temporary fantasy we've been living crashes down around me. No more morning breakfasts with Max teaching the kids to flip pancakes. More hide and seek in which Max pretends to be a monster chasing them. No more nights wrapped in his arms, feeling completely safe and cherished.
I knew this would end. Max made it clear from the start that once the threat was gone, we'd return home. But somehow, I let myself get lost in the dream, in the possibility of what could be.
My eyes burn as Max catches my gaze across the kitchen island. His smile fades slightly, like he can read the pain on my face. I turn away, afraid he’s worried that I’ve grown too attached. I focus on getting dinner on the table, not letting him see how much leaving him will destroy me. I can't let him know that these weeks haven't just been about safety or convenience or temporary pleasure. That somewhere along the way, despite my best efforts not to, I've fallen completely, hopelessly in love with him all over again.
The kitchen suddenly feels too small as Max approaches. I focus intently on the hotdogs boiling in the water. His presence behind me sends warmth radiating through my body, a cruel reminder of everything I'll have to leave behind.
"You okay?" His voice is soft, concerned.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. If I open my mouth, I might beg him to ask us to stay. The fantasy plays out in my head—Max telling me he can't imagine his life without us now, that these weeks have shown him what we could be as a family.
But that's all it is, a fantasy. Max has built his life here precisely to avoid the complications of family. He's never wanted children, never wanted to be tied down. He verified that earlier when he said he always used condoms to avoid an unwanted pregnancy. The fact that he's been so wonderful with Daniella and Dario doesn't change that fundamental truth.
My throat tightens as I consider the secret I've carried for so long. The twins aren't just any children. They're his. One word from me could change everything. But would it really? Or would it just make him feel trapped, obligated? The thought of him resenting us, resenting me for forcing this life on him, is unbearable.
"Gia." His hand touches my shoulder. "Talk to me."
I shake my head, managing a weak smile. "Just thinking about all the packing we need to do."
His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn't argue, doesn't tell me not to go. Doesn't give me any reason to hope that these weeks have meant as much to him as they have to me.
And that's my answer, isn't it? The truth about the twins will stay buried, where it can't hurt anyone. Better to let him remember us fondly than to destroy everything with revelations he never asked for.