Four weeks later, we met with the bookstore owner.
Margaret Brown was seventy-two, warm and sharp-eyed, clearly beloved by everyone who entered her shop. The Reading Nook was exactly what Valentina had described—two stories, café on the first floor, rare books upstairs, the smell of coffee and old paper everywhere.
"I've owned this place for thirty years," Margaret said, showing us around. "Built it from nothing. But I'm ready to retire, and I want someone who'll love it like I did. Someone who understands books are more than just merchandise."
"We do," Valentina said, one hand on the stroller where the twins slept. "Books saved my life more than once."
Margaret's expression softened. "Then this place is meant for you."
We talked about numbers, terms, and the transition timeline. Everything was reasonable, doable with the legitimate money I'd set aside over the years.
"When can you start?" Margaret asked.
Valentina looked at me, and I saw the hope, the excitement, the future we were building reflected in her eyes.
"Three months," I said. "Give us time to settle with the babies, finalize details."
"Perfect. I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers."
Outside, walking back to our car with the twins, Valentina squeezed my hand.
"We're really doing this. Buying a bookstore. Building a normal life."
"We really are."
"Bookstore owners." She smiled. "Former mob boss and mafia princess selling coffee and romance novels. The irony is perfect."
"As long as no one around here knows the 'former' parts."
"Our secret." She stopped and turned to face me on the quiet street. "Thank you. For giving me this. For choosing this life over everything else."
"Thank you for making it possible to choose." I kissed her forehead. "I love you."
"I love you too."
Ezio chose that moment to wake up screaming, immediately followed by Eva.
"And that's parenthood," Valentina laughed. "Can't even have a romantic moment without interruption."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
That night, I woke to silence.
Complete, unusual silence.
I checked the clock: 3:17 a.m. The twins should have been awake by now, demanding their feeding with the punctuality of tiny dictators.
Panic spiked. I was out of bed and down the hall before conscious thought.
I found them both sleeping peacefully in their bassinets—Ezio on his back, Eva curled on her side, both breathing steadily. Completely fine.
They'd slept through.
For the first time since coming home from the NICU, they'd slept a full six-hour stretch.
I stood between their bassinets, one hand on each, just watching them breathe.
"They're okay," Valentina's voice came from the doorway. She moved to stand beside me, wrapped in a blanket, hair messy from sleep. "I already checked twice. They're just sleeping."
