Chapter 21

SPARROW

"This is… not what I expected," I say as I get out of Xaviaro's car in front of a cozy single-story house that sits on a quiet street lined with mature trees and whimsical mailboxes, like the entire neighborhood was plucked straight out of a picture book of propaganda about the virtues of Middle America.

He chuckles, stuffing his keys into his pocket and looking at the house with a fond expression. He's wearing his usual suit today, but for the first time since we met, he didn't strap the holster to his chest before putting on his jacket. As far as I know, he's not carrying a single weapon this afternoon, and neither am I. It feels strangely quaint.

"Enzo has tried talking her into an upgrade, something a little fancier, but Nonna Moretti is a tough old broad. She knows what she wants and she's not hearing a word from her grandson or anybody else," Xaviaro explains with a chuckle.

"I think Nonna Moretti and I are going to get along famously," I decide, grabbing the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers I insisted we stop for on our way over.

The driveway is already lined with expensive cars. I can't help but wonder if the neighbors ever peek out their windows and whisper about who's over here for dinner. Do they know that the sweet old lady they live right next door to is actually the Moretti matriarch, holding Sunday dinners for the most dangerous men in the city? When we reach the front door, Xaviaro puts one arm around my shoulders and raises the other to knock. It flies open within seconds, and we're greeted by Elio, wearing a huge grin and dressed down in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

I look him up and down, completely thrown off by the sight of any of these men dressed so casually. Part of me has been assuming they all sleep in their suits, somehow waking up unwrinkled and immediately going into Terminator mode.

"Looking good, Row," Elio yanks me out of Xaviaro's grasp to pull me in for an unexpected hug.

I caved and agreed to add a few more items to my wardrobe. I figured having one pair of jeans without holes in them wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"Row?" I repeat, wriggling out of the hug after a few seconds before the oaf can crush the flowers I brought to charm Nonna Moretti with.

"Sparrow is a mouthful," he explains.

I snort and open my mouth to make a crude comment, but Salvatore appears behind Elio and does it for me.

"I'll bet he is, eh, Xav?" He waggles his eyebrows and Xaviaro simply fixes him with his signature expressionless stare, refusing to give an inch for them to run with.

I'm unsurprised that Salvatore opted to stick with a suit in spite of the apparently casual option of today's get-together. It's royal blue and paired with a stunning silver tie.

"Listen, we could stand out here and make dick jokes all night." I give them a sweetly threatening smile and make a shooing motion with my full hands, hoping they'll get the hint and move out of the damn way so we can come inside.

"I'm game for that," Sal agrees with a smirk.

"Same," Elio says with a shrug.

"Move." Xaviaro takes a more direct approach, saying the single word with the weight of authority that's hot as fuck as long as I'm not the one he's trying to boss around. When the chuckleheads don't do as he says immediately, he simply takes a step forward, his hand on my lower back propelling me forward until they're forced to scatter before we plow right into them.

"My boys." An elderly woman with a thick Italian accent shuffles down the hallway to greet us.

Her hair is steel gray with a few streaks of black remaining, swept up in a fancy bun on top of her head. She's dressed in a cream pantsuit that brings out the olive tones in her skin. She's even smaller than my own petite stature, but there's something in her eyes that dares a motherfucker to refer to her as frail.

"It's good to see you, Nonna." Xaviaro greets her with a delicate hug like he's afraid to break her.

"You're too skinny," she chides him, letting him go and turning to me. "And you must be the one my grandson keeps complaining about."

My smile widens. "Enzo's complaining about me?"

She laughs, I'm assuming at the inappropriately cheerful tone of my response. I doubt most people are quite so amused to hear that a mob boss is bitching to his grandma about them.

"I wasn't complaining," Enzo argues, appearing in the same doorway Nonna emerged from. "I said you've got Xaviaro twisted into a pretzel."

"And I told him that's a good thing," Nonna says, standing in front of me and looking me up and down. "If love doesn't twist you up into someone you hardly recognize, it's not worth it. And my boys are all long overdue for that kind of love. I don't care if it's a man or a woman, I just want to see them all settled before I go to my grave." She shoots each of the guys a pointed look. "The clock is ticking."

I stifle a snicker at the chastised expressions on all of their faces.

"Oh please, Nonna." Alessio joins the conversation from behind Enzo. "You're going to live forever."

"In your hearts, yes. On this earthly plane? Let's hope not," she says bluntly, and I decide that I'm definitely going to get along with this feisty old woman.

"I brought these as a thank you for having me over for dinner. It smells delicious," I say, offering her the flowers and wine.

"Finally, some manners in this house," Nonna says dramatically, taking the offering from me and giving me a kiss on the cheek, leaving sticky lipstick in her wake before carrying the gifts into the kitchen.

"Way to get us in trouble before dinner," Alessio complains quietly.

I shoot him a smug look. "Charming family is just one of my many skills."

"Speaking of which," Enzo says, stepping out of the doorway that leads to the kitchen, leaving his grandma to finish cooking. "Xav says you do tech."

"Sure. Programming, most troubleshooting and repairs, websites, all the basics and then some," I answer.

"Good. That's exactly what we need." Enzo nods as if something is settled.

"Was that a job offer?" I cock my head. "Because I'm going to need to hear the actual offer part. And don't expect me to come cheap."

His lips twitch with a suppressed smile and he tugs on the lapels of his suit to straighten it. "We'll talk," he concedes, and I nod this time.

"We'll talk," I agree.

"Elio, Enzo, come set the table," Nonna calls from the kitchen, and I'm not the only one who titters this time. There's absolutely nothing funnier than a couple of mobsters and their grandmother. Fight me.

They slink off and I lean into the warmth of Xaviaro at my back.

"You really can't stop busting his balls, can you?" he asks with a quiet laugh.

"It's good for him," I whisper back, turning towards him and meeting his eyes. "For the record, I'm all pretzel-fied over you too." I rise up onto the tips of my toes and brush my lips against his.

Salvatore groans.

"Yeah, you two are gross," Alessio says.

"Jealous," I taunt, dragging my thumb over Xaviaro's lip to wipe off the lingering dampness from the brief kiss. "You two never know, the love of your life could come along and break your nose any day."

Salvatore's eyes go wide. "He's the one who broke your nose?"

"Oops," I mutter, grimacing apologetically at Xaviaro. I assumed all the guys knew about our epic meet-cute at this point.

Alessio cackles. "I'm thinking Elio has the best shot at that one."

"Wait, what?" Curiosity prickles through me.

"Ah, shit, forget I said anything. Elio will fucking kill me," he backtracks immediately.

Salvatore snorts. "Elio is a pussy cat."

"Yeah, I'm definitely scarier than Elio," I scoff.

"Dinner," Nonna shouts from the kitchen again, effectively putting a stop to the gossip before my curiosity can be satisfied.

It's a question for another day, I suppose. And, honestly, I love that there will be other days. It'll always be bittersweet that I have another dayand Benny never will again. No amount of bloodshed managed to change the reality of that. Xaviaro puts a hand on my back again to lead me into the dining room, and I lean into the warm weight of his presence.

The revenge might not have done anything to bring Benny back, but it did lead me straight to Xaviaro. I've never believed in fate or that anything is meant to be. Life is too damn random and painful for bullshit platitudes like that. What I do believe is that sometimes you meet the right people exactly when you need them most. There isn't a doubt anywhere inside of me that Xaviaro is my right person.

We all file into the dining room and take seats around a table filled with a boggling array of different foods, all of which smell sinful. Like, I would definitely cut somebody for the lambchop Xaviaro loads onto my plate. Luckily, the only thing I end up needing a knife for is to add a pat of butter to my bread.

I glance around the table while everyone else fills their plates, laughing and shouting over each other. It's the kind of family I always wished for, I just didn't expect it to be The Family. But I think I can work with this. At least shit will never be dull. My eyes land on Xaviaro one more time and my heart flutters when he meets my gaze.

"Do you mind?" Salvatore complains. "How are we supposed to eat when you're making googly eyes at each other all night?"

I hold up my middle finger before I remember that Nonna is present and I should probably behave myself. Cringing, I tuck it away quickly, folding my hands in my lap.

"Don't make me shoot you, Sal," Nonna warns in a casual tone that catches me off guard.

"Nonna," Enzo gasps in surprise.

"Don't look at me like that. I was a better shot than your grandfather and I haven't lost a step."

"We should go to the shooting range sometime, Nonna," I suggest, earning skeptical looks from the rest of the table.

"Count me in. As long as it won't bruise your ego when I prove what a deadeye I am," she warns.

"I assure you, my ego is unbruisable."

We all dig into our food and Xaviaro puts one hand on my knee under the table. Always there, always mine, just like I've been unshakably his since before I even realized it. Probably from the moment I broke his nose then ran for my life. I grin at the memory, and my heart thuds out a strong, steady beat that I swear whispers his name.

The Sleepless Reapers haven't been completely run out of town yet, but at least it's a work in progress. My old life is well and truly gone, and no part of me wants it back. And what happens next is still up in the air, at least as far as a career. The rest of the ‘what's next'is pretty solid… It's Xaviaro. That's it. And it's everything. He's everything.

"I love you, Killer," I whisper, living and dying with the smile that spreads slowly over his lips.

"And I love you, my Deadly Little Sparrow."

The End