The watery sensation started in the back of my eyes, but I quickly looked down at my coffee and waited for it to wane. “You remind me of my mother.”
She paused.
I continued to look at the foam, watching the small bubbles start to pop and dissipate.
“I take that as a great compliment, honey.”
When I recovered from the emotion that nearly took me down, I looked at her again. “I love him with all my heart, and we’ll work it out. I’m just so angry right now.” I grabbed the milk and poured it into my coffee, letting it rise just below the top.
“I don’t blame you.”
“You don’t?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “I heard the whole thing. Con didn’t come off very well.”
At least I wasn’t overreacting. “I know it didn’t mean anything. I believe everything he says. I just ... feel disrespected.”
“I know.”
“He could have told me beforehand, but he didn’t.”
“To be fair, it sounds like he tried to avoid it as much as he could. And from what I know of Cosa Nostra, you have to be a man of your word or you aren’t a man at all. He made this deal long before you, Aurelia. It’s complicated, I understand that. Love isn’t jealous, but it is jealous when a line is crossed—and that line was crossed.”
I didn’t expect his mother, of all people, to be on my side with this. “I just picture him with this hot twenty-five-year-old, while I’m caked in tomato sauce at work, looking like hell.”
She gave a quiet chuckle. “You do not look like hell, Aurelia. And she’s only a few years younger than you. You’re still so young and so beautiful.”
“Thank you, Sofia.”
Our moment was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Loud, distinct, angry ...
The corner of her lip upturned in a smile. “Ready for this?”
“I really don’t want to see him right now.”
“Well, if I don’t open that door, he’s gonna break it down.” As she rose from the chair, he pounded on the door again, this time harder, shaking the whole house. She walked out of the kitchen and disappeared from sight.
From the other side of the house, I heard the door open and shut, but no conversation. Constantine’s footsteps could be heard down the hallway before he rounded the corner and stepped into the kitchen.
I kept my eyes on my coffee, even though I could feel his stare pierce me like bullets.
He stood there for a while, staring at the side of my face, before he pulled out the chair his mother had occupied a moment ago.
My heart raced with adrenaline. My fingers felt numb and sweaty the second he was in my space.
“Sweetheart.”
My eyes stayed on the coffee.
“Look at me.”
“I just want some space, okay?”
“Well, that’s too fucking bad, isn’t it?” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was sharper than broken glass. “Because you’re my woman and you’re carrying my baby and I’m not letting the two of you sleep under someone else’s roof.”
“It’s your mother’s—” I raised my chin and looked at him.
“You’re my responsibility. Not hers.”
