Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Dad
Chapter 300

As I walk down the street towards the little Italian kindergarten, the whispers start around me, as they always do. I listen to all of them, a big German Shepherd padding quietly at my heels.

"Is that her?"

"Yes, that's the one - I heard she was her husband's mistress before he married her - that she killed his wife -"

"No that's not it - she was married to his son first."

"Turned the son gay, I heard -"

"I heard she killed her parents to get all of their money so he'd marry her, because his first wife was penniless and he went broke at strip clubs -"

"They've got gold buried beneath that vineyard of theirs -

American gold."

I smirk to myself, because it's all old news to me now. This happens to me pretty much every day - all the Italian women in the town speculating about how I, the red-headed American, landed my gorgeous older husband. Of course, they wouldn't say a damn word if they knew that I speak Italian now.

Which is why I don't tell them.

I let them whisper what they want to whisper, and I play the naive little American wife, and in exchange I know everything they wouldn't want me to know.

I tell Kent all of it, of course, usually while he cooks dinner in our little seaside villa - which we bought, actually, shortly after Dominic's baptism. And he smirks, and listens, but ultimately neither of us really care what they say.

A little growl slides from Titus as a man accidentally steps too close on the sidewalk. I glance down, grinning, to see my sweet dog's teeth bared as he stares at the man.

"Mi scusi!" the man says, his eyes wide and his hands up as he quickly moves away from us.

I just smile at him and wave hello as if I don't know what happened. But when he's passed us, I drop my hand to Titus's head, giving him a little pat to let him know he's a good boy. He really is the best dog - a perfect angel with us, and Dominic absolutely adores him. But Kent, of course, made sure that Titus is a guard dog outside the house, not a pet.

It's pretty much the only way he feels comfortable with me leaving the house by myself. I would protest that it's too much, but... well, I like having Titus close by.

The dog seats himself just outside the gate to Dominic's kindergarten as I step through. I nod warmly to the other mothers that stand there, also waiting. Some of them call hellos to me in Italian and English, which I return.

But really. I only have eyes for the door, which bursts open a minute later.

My face breaks into a huge smile as my eyes fix on Dominic, who comes running out the door with a big grin on his face, his too-big backpack bouncing as he runs for me.

"Mama!" he shouts, and I laugh and crouch, grabbing my dark-haired boy up into my arms and spinning him around just as soon as he comes near. "Mama, we did so many paintings today! I wanted to bring them home, but the teacher - she said they are too wet." "Probably a good idea," I say, nodding and balancing my baby on my hip. Or, well, he's not my baby any more, is he?

But no - that breaks my heart if I think about it too much, so I just smile and brush his dark curls out of his face.

"That is true," Dominic says, nodding seriously. "Papa - he will not like wet paint in the house."

"See? I knew you'd get it," I say, kissing him and putting him on the ground, "but you can bring them home tomorrow and tell me all about them tonight."

Dominic chatters then, telling me every instant of day as we walk from the gate. Titus falls in behind us without being called for. My son breaks his stream of words only to turn and say hello to the dog, reaching out to pat him. Titus eagerly licks his hand before Dominic turns back to me, chatting on.

I smile down at Dominic as we walk through the town, wondering passively if hes going to be an artist like Daniel.

Daniel and Jerome are gone for the moment - in Scotland, of all places, so that Daniel can get a Masters in playwriting. I grin, wondering if my big scary husband really does only produce artistic sons.

"Papa!" Dominic shouts, startling me out of my reverie as he drops my hand and darts down the road. I look up, a huge smile breaking out on my face again as I see Kent on the sidewalk just ahead. His back is to us as he speaks companionably with the butcher, a heavy bag of his purchases already hung over his arm.

Kent - he loves the butcher, who is much of a gourmand as he is. I honestly think it's his best friend here. And though the two men are about the same age, when my eyes flick over Kent's fit form, his full head of hair just barely greying at the temples, his broad shoulders?

Damn, did I get lucky. My husband is hot.

Dominic hurries along the sidewalk to his dad, and I laugh to see his backpack bouncing wildly on his shoulders. Kent turns when Dominic draws near, dropping into a crouch and gathering the little boy into a one armed hug, pulling him close to his chest and pressing a kiss to his hair.

One armed, of course, because in the other arm he holds a little red-headed baby, wrapped up warm in her blanket.

Kent says a few more words to our first born before standing up and reminding Dominic to politely say hello to the butcher. Dominic - who is not at all shy - chats amiably with the big man as Titus and I draw close.

"Hello, beautiful," Kent murmurs, taking my face in his hands and planting a warm kiss on my mouth. I kiss him back, leaning into him as I always do

"Hi," I say, grinning up at him. "I missed you."

"It's been five minutes, Fay," he murmurs, smiling

I shrug, ignoring him and reaching for my little girl, pulling her into my arms. "And how is Princess Corina!?" | coo, running a hand over her bright patch of red hair as she fusses and turns her head towards me. She's only about six months old now, but I can't get enough of her my little twin. Dominic - he's a good mix of both of us, with his dad's dark hair and my pale skin and more delicate features. But Corina? She is all me.

I...

Kent was supposed to get that vasectomy the same day that I delivered Dominic in the hospital - had it scheduled and everything. But then when I had a home birth, it was never performed. And it never got rescheduled. And he never mentioned it, and neither did Honestly, I never thought about it much until one day - again - I realized that I was incredibly late on my period without noticing. But the reaction this time?

Well, no one got punched, which was less exciting.

But it was all joy, right from the start.

"I don't think this one likes me as much," Kent says, waving goodbye to the butcher and then frowning down at our daughter. "She fussed the whole time you were gone."

"I like you, papa!" Dominic says, wrapping his arms around Kent's leg and beaming up at him.

Kent laughs down at his son. "Well, we know that, Dom," he says, ruffling Dominic's hair. "Yeah," Dominic sighs, looking up at us. "But Corina only likes mama."

"Corina," I say, lifting my eyebrows and giving my little girl a kiss, "has good taste." "Yes, she does," Kent says, pulling me close for another kiss, a lingering one this time.

"Stoppp," Dominic moans, reaching up to tug on my shirt." Let's goooo, you're being gross."

I laugh and wave a dismissive hand at my child, kissing my husband. I have earned my right to kiss this man as much as I want, after all.

But eventually Kent breaks the kiss, cupping my cheek in his hand and nudging my nose with his, murmuring sweet things in Italian that I actually understand now. And I smile at him, and take his hand, and we follow our son as he runs down the road

We head to the outskirts of the little town then, intending to walk home today. It's a long walk, but it's a nice one, on a beautiful day like today. Titus stays close at my heel while Dominic runs ahead. I smile when he turns into the little café on the right, shouting "grandpa!" and throwing himself into my dad's arms.

My dad greets him with such genuine joy and excitement that it makes my heart swell with joy. They talk for a few minutes about Dominic's day before dad gives him a little nudge back towards the gate where Kent and I are waiting.

Dominic gives dad a kiss before running ahead again. My dad waves to us before turning back to his checkers, his glass of red wine, and the American sports that are always on the outside TV at this little café that caters to American expatriates in Sicily - mostly retired guys like him.

1 blow a kiss to my dad, and he pretends to catch it and put it in his pocket - as he always does - before making his next move on the board. I smile, linking my arm with Kent's and looking up at him as we start the long road home.

"Any word from Janeen?" he asks, looking down at me with interest.

"Yes, she finally got back to me," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

Janeen she's in Paris now, living with Gio in a little apartment by the Seine, dancing at Crazy Horse. Bizarrely, her schedule as a dancer lines up beautifully with his as an ER doctor. She hasn't bothered to learn French, but Gio is fluent, and Janeen has always found that a few smiles and sultry looks get her what she wants anyway

"And?" Kent urges, giving me a little nudge as I lose myself in my thoughts.

"And, she dropped her phone in the river after a few too many glasses of Pinot Noir," I say with a shrug and a sigh." But yes, she and Gio are coming home for Christmas.

They're booking flights today."

"Good," Kent says with a nod,

, "It will be good to have a full

house again." He looks ahead, vigilantly watching Dominic as we get outside the town, where there are fewer sidewalks and more country roads.

We walk all the way home to our villa, where Kent and I have started a little vineyard, hoping to turn out our first real bottles of wine this year. Turns out, the skills that are useful in planning jailbreaks and heists also translate well to the wine business, which gives us both a lot of joy. We're partners, after all, in life as in our business venture.

And we need something challenging - neither Kent nor I can really stand to be bored.

As we finally arrive at our house Dominic drops his backpack, starting to run through the long rows of grapes towards the stables, where Heathcliff knickers loudly, having seen his favorite boy. "I'm going to see him!" Dominic calls over his shoulder to US

"Be careful!" Kent calls, stooping to pick up the backpack before standing quietly with me. Together, we watch our little boy run through the grape vines, as I always imagined he would We pause for a moment, in the dying light of day, looking over our little world.

Our tiny, perfect world.

"Hey," I say, tugging on Kent's arm and making him look at me. I smile up at my husband while I hold my little baby girl warm against my chest. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"Oh," he murmurs, tugging me close and then letting his hand drift dangerously low on my back, making me grin at his intent. "I think I'm aware. But if there's any doubts, Fay, I'll let you show me." "Good," I say, standing on my toes and wrapping my hand in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down so that his face is close to mine.

Kent studies me for a moment as he holds me close, his love for me plain on his face. "You're my whole life, Fay Lippert," he murmurs against my lips. "And god damn it, if my life isn't perfect." And then he kisses me, and I kiss him right back, this man who is my husband, my partner, and my best friend.

Absolutely everything to me, just as I am to him.

"I love you too," I whisper, smiling up at Kent under the warmth of the Italian sun.

The end