Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
“I had work to do today,” he said.
Cecelia shrugged. “John said he would handle it, actually. We pulled some strings. A break is good for everybody, Antony. Even when that man is you.”
Well, then ...
“Waffles!” Gio shouted. “I want waffles!”
Waffles it was.
*
Twelve hours later ...
John tried closing the door of the apartment quietly but that was the thing about the goddamn door. Nothing about it was quiet. It squeaked, and when it latched, it echoed in the silent apartment.
Didn’t matter.
The place didn’t stay silent for long.
“Papa!”
It was way too late.
Eleven at night.
Lina was pretty strict about keeping a bedtime routine for Luciano, so he had thought by the time he was able to make his way around today, his boy would already be sleeping and out for the night. John just planned on staying til morning, waking his son up, and then heading across the state to deal with the woman who hadn’t stopped calling his phone all damn day.
His wife, that was.
Fuck, he hated her.
Kate made that easy. Hating her, that was.
Not the time, John.
It couldn’t be the time when little Lucky was heading his way with a big smile, and arms wide open. John was already kneeling down to greet his son with a hug, and a kiss on top of his dark-haired head.
For a second, John took the moment to admire his son. All those familiar features, and bright hazel eyes. Just like his dad. Lina liked to joke that there was no way John could deny Luciano because they might as well have been twins.
But fuck him because he saw Lina in their son, too.
In Luciano’s sweet ways. In the happy glint that always shined in the boy’s eyes. In the way his hugs always felt like home and love.
He was John’s son through and through.
But his mother was there.
“Little late tonight, huh?” Lina asked. “He wanted to stay up.”
John touseled Lucky’s hair, and smiled at his boy. “Yeah ... stuff came up.”
“I bet.”
He ignored the way she said that. He let her have her moods, and feelings. Lina was due them. After everything ... all the choices he made that should have ruined whatever this was between them, the woman was still here.
She loved him despite of it.
Despite the fact she was a mistress.
That she raised their son practically alone.
That her name was ruined.
She loved him.
“We’ll watch that show you like, get some popcorn, and whatever else you wanna do, all right?” John asked his son.
The boy nodded. “Okay.”
He wanted to apologize for not being there. It was Father’s Day, and instead of being with his son, he made sure his best friend could spend the day with his sons.
Because that’s just how shit went sometimes.
Luciano never seemed to care that John wasn’t here as much as he wanted to be. He just cared that John was there when he was there. Nothing else mattered then.
“Did you miss me?” Lucky asked his father.
John’s gaze dropped to his son again. “More than you know, my boy.”
Lucky grinned in that way—the Grovatti way.
No, he couldn’t deny this boy at all.
He just wished he didn’t have to hide him.
“Happy Father’s Day, Papa.”
John kissed Lucky’s forehead, and dragged him in for a tight hug. Grabbing his son’s face, he tipped Lucky’s head back so that the two of them could stare at each other.
“I’m always gonna love you, yeah?” he asked. “You know that, my boy, don’t you?”
Lucky nodded. “Yeah, Papa.”
“No matter what, Lucky. Someone is always going to love you.”
John didn’t know then, that time was ticking down. That this whole thing was just a bomb waiting to blow with a clock that was running out of seconds. He’d be the first to go, and then Lina. He wouldn’t know anything until it was too late.
But he hadn’t lied.
Someone would always love Luciano.
John, even dead.
The boy’s mother, in Heaven.
And a whole family across the state who, in those moments, hadn’t even known Luciano existed.
They would love him, too.
When John and Lina couldn’t ...
When it counted the most ...
They would love him.
A Father’s Worry
As a father of boys, Antony tried not to do one thing too much: worry. It was basically impossible because considering who he was and the life he lived, well ... didn’t he have more things to worry about than most?
He certainly thought so.
Nonetheless, he did try not to let his worries overcome him. His boys were good—great. They came from him, after all, and with just enough of their mother coloring them up to make sure they had a decent conscience while he took care of all that pride they often stumbled over, he thought it would be okay.
Mostly.
And there was Lucian.
Who was not the same.
He couldn’t be.
Months after finding Lucian and moving him into the Marcello mansion with the rest of the family, and Antony found himself worrying over the boy that didn’t share his blood more than he did his biological sons. He’d asked a friend if that was normal—or was it just because Lucian wasn’t really his, and he felt a need to overcompensate for that fact? His friend said more the first than the second. At the moment, Lucian took over Antony’s worry because he was the one who needed it the most out of the three boys. Another day, it might be Gio.