Chapter 28ANGELO

Chapter 28

ANGELO

Cookie and Mars come skating into the living room, and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm grateful for the interruption of the heartfelt discussion.

Communication might be important to a healthy relationship, but talking this much is giving me a headache.

The little girl stops abruptly in front of me. "I'm hungry. When's dinner?"

Surprised she has no hesitation about talking to me, I answer, "The housekeeper will have dinner on the table at 6:30."

That's the time they usually eat and I'm not about to mess with Mira's schedule for Cookie.

"Cool! What are we having?"

"Diamond Marie!" Mira admonishes. "Is that any way to behave as a guest in someone's home?"

"Sorry, Mr. Caruso. I shouldn't have asked what we're eating." She wiggles her brows at me where her mother can't see. "But if you wanted to tell me…"

Mira laughs and so does Candi.

I find my own lips trying to tilt upward. "It's Sunday. That means fava bean soup to start, stuffed manicotti and arrosto for the main course. Though I don't know if it's beef or pork."

"You have three dinners on Sunday?"

"Three courses to a single dinner. It's tradition." Nonna always insisted on a full Sunday dinner together, no matter what else nonno and I got up to during the rest of the week.

My new housekeeper is old school like nonna was and prepares the same, whether I'm here to eat it, or not.

"We didn't intend to descend on you for dinner," Mira says still looking at me like I'm the bug on the pin she's trying to figure out.

But maybe one that she doesn't want to squish under her shoe anymore.

Progress.

"You are family. You cannot be an intrusion." That is something nonna used to say and that I genuinely believed I never would, much less the words about to come out of my mouth. "My home is your home. I hope one day, you will make it your home full-time. "

"We get to live here?" Cookie's, black and pink braids fly around her head as she turns it side to side, looking at everything in the living room.

Candi spends three hours every few weeks box-braiding her sister's hair. I don't know where she learned how to do it, but she uses different colored yarn extensions each time and Cookie likes it.

There is always at least a week, but often longer in between taking out her braids and re-braiding her hair when Cookie wears her curls free.

My woman might use cheap, discount shit on her own hair, but she gets the stuff for Cookie's hair from a salon. Not an expensive one, but not a discount store either.

"No one said anything about us living here," Mira frowns at me.

Am I leveraging Cookie's enthusiasm for new experiences and her obvious enjoyment of our home to get my way? Yes.

Do I regret doing so? Not at all.

I want them living here where they will be safer and Candi will be happier for having them with her.

"Mr. Caruso did! If we're living here, will I call you Angelo?" she asks me excitedly.

"I would like it if you called me Angelo now. Or fratello ."

"Is fratello your middle name?"

"It's Italian for brother."

Cookie's eyes go wide. "You're my brother?"

"I will be when I marry your sister." When that happens is up to Candi.

That it will happen is a given. Soulmates do not live separate lives.

Mira gasps sharply, but Candi just laughs. "Angelo lives in his own little world, but you can call him fratello if you want to."

Which is as good as an agreement that one day we'll be married. I'll ask her of course. Every woman deserves a proposal story she can share with her children and grandchildren. Nonna said that too.

Her first husband was an arranged marriage but my Caruso grandfather still proposed. Nonno proposed three times before nonna said yes to her second marriage.

Candi gets one . With me. And she's the only woman I will ever marry.

"We'll discuss Angelo's delusions later," Mira says, using the same dry tone her daughter does sometimes. "You need to get washed up before dinner."

"I'll show you your rooms. They have en suite bathrooms," I inform them.

"And if I know Angelo, they have everything you could need to freshen up too," Candi says wryly before turning a concerned look on her mom. "If you want to lie down, I'll bring you a tray for dinner."

Mira straightens her spine. "That won't be necessary. I'll eat with the rest of you. And we don't need a guest room to wash our hands and faces for dinner."

"They're not guest rooms. They have been designed specifically for each of you," I assure my future mother-in-law.

She does not look comforted. "I don't think––"

"Oooh, I want to see!" Cookie bounces on the balls of her feet. "What color is it?"

"I'd like to see too." Candi grins at her sister. "I bet there's pink and orange in your room."

Cookie looks at me with wide eyes. "Those are my favorite colors. Did Candi tell you?"

"Yes." Technically, her comments to her sister that I listened to informed me of Cookie's favorite colors. "And I told the designer."

I'd also told her that Cookie's birth mother was from Nigeria and showed her a picture of the head wrap Cookie treasured and kept in its own box under the bed. The designer had sourced similar fabric for beanbags and the cloth covered headboard on Cookies bed.

The little girl's room is a riot of color that I could not live in, but emulates her side of the bedroom she and Candi share.

"Like you told the designer that Candi's favorite color is teal?" Cookie asks as I lead everyone toward the elevator.

"Yes."

"Is your favorite color gray?" Cookie wants to know.

I press the button to open the elevator doors hidden in the foyer wall. "I don't have a favorite color."

"It's the color of Angelo's eyes." Candi smiles up at me, sharing the knowledge of why I asked the designer to use those colors together.

"Woah, you have an elevator?" Cookie automatically steps back to the corner of the elevator making room for her mom's scooter. "Is that a rich people thing?"

"It's here to make the entire house accessible to your mom." I push the button to take us to the second floor.

Mira looks at me, startled. "You installed it for me?"

"Yes."

As the doors begin to close, Mars bounds inside and sits on his haunches next to Cookie. Boomer says my dog doesn't like the elevator and whines when he has to ride it. He's not whining now.

"I hope this elevator doesn't break down like the one in our building." Cookie gives Mars scritches behind his ears.

"I have it checked and serviced weekly."

Candi cocks her head to one side. "Um, isn't that a little excessive?"

"I clean my guns daily. Sometimes, twice a day."

Mira bursts out laughing, her expression untainted with wariness for the first time since she arrived. "Good to know my elevator warrants the same attention as your guns."

"If you want me to have it checked and serviced daily, I can," I offer, not sure what's so funny about cleaning my guns.

An improperly cleaned gun is the difference between life and death in my line of work.

"That won't be necessary. Once a week is plenty." She and Candi share a wry look.

I don't know what that's about either. Elevator maintenance isn't any more amusing than gun maintenance. Both are necessary tools that are dangerous when they don't work properly.

This not getting the joke is nothing new for me, but for the first time, I share special secret knowledge with someone too. La mia piccolo gatta . Like the gray and teal thing and how Candi's face shows her ecstasy when she comes. And now she knows I share that knowledge with her deepening the connection between us.

Candi slides her hand into mine as the elevator doors open. "Thank you for installing an elevator and making sure it'll never break down with my mom stuck inside."

"You're welcome."

We come to Cookie's room first.

She stops just inside the door and Candi gasps.

"It's like maami's headwrap," Cookie says reverently.

Candi stares up at me. "Where did you find the fabric to do that?"

"I gave a picture of it to the designer." I don't bother spelling out that I took it while going through their things one day when they were all out of the apartment so I could get to know them better.

"How long have you been working on this house?" Candi's hands curl around my forearms.

The sound of Mira and Cookie talking turns to a buzz in the background. "I bought it two weeks after I first saw you dance."

"This is more of that love at first sight stuff."

"You don't sound as dismissive of it today."

"How can I be?" She steps closer and speaks low for my ears only. "This isn't just obsession, it's consideration. You made space for me, my mom and my sister in your life."

"Of course." My life would be as empty as it was before I met her without the other half of my soul that allows me to feel.

"I felt a connection the first time I saw you too." She leans up and kisses the underside of my jaw before turning to her mom and sister.

Stunned by her casual affection and words, I stand back and watch. It's something I'm very good at.

"If we lived here, I could have friends over without bothering you and Candi," Cookie says to her mom.

Mira looks at me consideringly and then back at her youngest daughter. "Your friends don't bother us now and it would be hard for them to get here."

"You'll have a car and driver at your disposal going forward." And a security team, but I'll ease them into that over dinner. "The SUV kitted for the scooter will arrive next week."

Mira laughs with disbelief. "Careful, or I'm going to think it's my heart you're trying to win and not my daughter's."

"She is my heart." Nothing is too much if it means making her happy. "Taking care of you is an extension of caring for her."

"I'm beginning to see that. Mr. Bianchi was wrong about you, wasn't he?"

"No. I am the man he says I am, but with Candi, I am more."

"Candi isn't the reason you police your mafia friends."

They're not my friends, but I don't correct her. For once, I get the nuance of what she's saying.

"I am only glad I became more than the killer Don Enzo brought me into la famiglia to be." I don't believe Mira would ever accept my place in her daughter's life if I was just an assassin.

Severu gave me a purpose I didn't know I needed to be worthy of la mia amate in her mother's eyes.

Leaving Cookie in her room, Candi and I take Mira to hers across the hall.

"Your room is set up like a mother-in-law suite." She has her own open concept small kitchen, dining area, and sitting room, with a separate bedroom and bathroom.

"It's bigger than our apartment." Candi walks around the sitting room, touching things.

The big screen television mounted on the wall. The lift chair that will make it easier for Mira to get in and out of. The matching couch and armchair for her daughters and friends to use.

"There are no tight angles to make maneuvering her scooter difficult."

Mira disappears into her bedroom and Candi yanks me down to attack my lips with her own.

I don't know what brought this on, but I'm enjoying it too much to stop and ask.

"Eww…get a room, you two!"

At the sound of Cookie's voice, Candi breaks the kiss but doesn't move away. "You're sure you want an eleven-year-old living with you?"

"I like your sister."

Candi shakes her head, gives me another quick kiss and steps back. "What do you think, Cookie? Can you see yourself living here?"

"If you can talk mom into it." Cookie's expression sobers. "She's worried since the douche—"

"Mom told you not use that word," Candi interrupts her little sister. "I don't think any more highly of my sperm donor than you do, but you need to find a more eleven-year-old friendly way to say it around mom."

Cookie sighs. "Jerk works."

"So does mug and I guarantee he wouldn't like being called either," I tell her.

"Okay, okay, no more of the d-word," Cookie says with a long-suffering eyeroll.

"I'm glad to hear it." Mira comes back into the room.

"Is the bedroom alright?" I ask.

"Yes. In fact, I'm going to take Candi's suggestion to lie down for a while. I'm not really hungry." Her shoulders droop with fatigue and most likely pain. "It has been a long day."

Candi's face falls. "I'm sorry, mom."

"Don't be sorry for the actions of others. I wasn't worried about you until Mr. Bianchi showed up. And for goodness's sake, don't apologize for finding your soulmate, sweetheart. I always promised myself I would never put you through what my mother did to me when Jakub and I started dating."

Candi rushes over and gently lays one hand on her mother's shoulder. "You're the best mom. Don't ever believe any different."

"I'm the only one you've got, so I have to get it right," Mira says like she's said it many times before.

"Are we spending the night?" Cookie asks hopefully.

"Yes, I think we will. This old body isn't up to the trip home." Mira sighs. "I could really use one of those magical massages the therapist Petra sent me to gives."

Pulling out my phone, I send a message to the therapist. When I hired for Mira's care, he agreed to be on call for a situation just like this one.

"He'll be here within the hour," I tell Mira.

Mira stares at me. "I know you're a big time mafioso, but how are you getting my therapist to do a weekend house call?"

"It's his job."

"Somehow, I think there's more to it than that, young man, but thank you."

A weird warmth unfurls in my chest at her calling me young man.