Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
When two broken hearts have reached their limits, it’s time for a mobster to play dirty in order to let the healing begin. Don’t worry, Alfie has a plan.
That very second, the moment West said those words…I almost shattered. Again. I’d put myself out there. I’d begged him for a second chance. I’d told him I’d give up everything for him and our kids—but he’d shot me down. And now, when I let him know that I was changing my last name back to O’Dwyer, he had the balls to say his name suited me better. He stood there in front of me, trying to act like his eyes weren’t burning with unshed tears, and admitted that he didn’t know how to let me go.
Not long after, I nearly broke into a million pieces again, when Dad called and said that Mom was in the hospital. That she’d been assaulted.
No words could describe the rage that flooded me, and I couldn’t hide it from West either.
He was about to find out just how far the Sons of Munster would go to avenge their own.
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Alfie belongs in the Irish of Philly universe by Cara Dee. However, Alfie and West’s story has been written so it can be enjoyed to its full extent as a stand-alone
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
FIRST 12 CHAPTERS ARE IN """""ALFIE - PART 1"""""
PART II OF II
WHERE WE LEFT OFF
…IN PART I
Alfie Scott
Operation Win West Back.
What a joke. I was such a loser.
And now… Now, I had to close myself off again. If I was going to survive, I had to die emotionally.
“You should probably go,” I croaked. “You don’t want me with the Sons, and you won’t let me leave. What the fuck can I do? What the fuck can I do, West?”
He dropped his napkin into the takeout container and rose to his feet. Then he walked over to me, and I saw the way his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
West wasn’t a particularly emotional person, at least when it came to crying, so whenever that happened, it hurt me too.
“I once played a part in making you feel forced to become someone else,” he said quietly. “I won’t do that again. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I screwed my eyes shut, and he pressed a kiss to my temple before I heard him walking back inside the bedroom.
I’m sorry, sweetheart.
I’d waited all fucking night for him to surrender to the point where he let his old terms of endearment for me slip out. Baby and sweetheart were the grand prizes, followed by “my little hellion” and “sweet boy,” though the latter two were reserved for bedroom activities. And I got it. I got one of them as a parting gift.
I’m sorry, sweetheart.
CHAPTER 13
Alfie Scott
The following morning, I welcomed the numbness that’d set in after I’d bawled my eyes out half the night.
I got ready and drove over to my folks’ to pick up the kids, and I just hoped the empty feeling inside me lasted. Because dropping Trip and Ellie off at West’s was next. It was his week.
The kids were in a great mood and rambled about what they’d done with Nonna and Pop-Pop. I nodded and commented in all the right places. Mom, however, with curlers in her hair, eyed me in the way that let me know she was aware something was wrong. But she was still giving me grief, so I didn’t expect her to dig for answers anytime soon.
“Okay, kiddos, let’s get your butts out to Daddy’s,” I said. “I assume there’s a pool you wanna jump in.” I handed the car key over to Trip. Old Mr. Thomas was sitting outside reading his paper on the stoop, and he loved the kids. When his grandkids were here, they played with Trip and Ellie.
“Is Mr. Thomas outside?” Trip asked.
“You know it. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.” Trip rushed out the door with his backpack after giving Mom a hug. “Bye, Nonna!”
“Ciao, topolino—see you soon! My beautiful Ellie, I’ll miss you.” Mom sent Ellie off with a hug too. “Be good, nena. Don’t forget your prayers!”
“Yeah, okay!” Ellie gigglesnorted and was already halfway down the stairs, and I reminded her to stay close to her brother.
“Not so fast, Alfredo.”
“Blergh.” I made a face. “I hate it when you call me that.” The only thing worse was, of course, when she’d full-named me as a kid. When she’d hollered, “Alfredo Alejandro O’Dwyer, you get back here right now!” my ass was cooked.
“Shut up. You have a beautiful name, after my grandfathers—God rest their souls,” she replied, doing the Sign of the Cross. “What’s wrong with you? Your face—it’s all…” She gestured at my face and said something, mixing Spanish with Italian. Cazzo this, revolú that.
“I didn’t sleep well, is all,” I said. “We gotta go.”
“You are lying to me again,” she told me. “It’s become a habit since you joined the mafia.”
“Yeah, aight. Good talkin’ to you, Ma.” I turned and headed down the stairs—
“Wait!”
I threw an impatient look over my shoulder, only to see her hurrying out of the apartment in her robe and slippers. She stopped on the step above the one I was standing on, and she grabbed my face.
“You’re breaking my heart when you’re sad, my sweet baby boy—but you gotta walk away from the Sons!” She slipped her hands down to my shoulders and shook me a little. “Don’t you see? I’m sure that’s why you are sad—no? Did they hurt you?”
“No, they fucking didn’t, Mom,” I groaned, backing away from her paws.
“Don’t curse!” She wagged a finger in my face, and I was done. She cursed all the fucking time.
“Dad!” I yelled, my voice echoing in the hallway. “Come get your crazy!”
“Don’t call your mother crazy!” he yelled back from…probably the living room. “Giulia! Get’chur crazy ass back in here. Leave the boy alone!”
Cue mad heated rant from Mom in two languages I didn’t speak.
“How many times I gotta tell you!” I hollered at her. “I don’t fucking understand!”
She’d stopped trying to teach me Spanish when I’d struggled with English in second grade. Whatever shit I’d known before then had been forgotten. Well, most of it. I could tell when she was hauling out threats, kind of like now, so I checked out and left.