"I suppose we may as well as get it over with," I blow out a breath.
"What is it?" Nonna’s gaze narrows, "Are you going to tell me, or should I guess?"
"Oh, no need to guess," Theresa inches even closer to me, "we are pregnant."
"Pregnant?" Karma squeals from the entrance to the room. She marches in, followed by Michael who is close on her heels. Reaching us, she throws her arms around Theresa, "OMG, OMG, that was quick you guys, but I am not complaining. Now, I’ll have someone else to talk to and share notes with."
She squeezes Theresa’s shoulders, then kisses her on both cheeks, before stepping back.
"Grazie Maria Santa," Nonna raises her gaze skyward, before she, too, steps toward Theresa and kisses her on her forehead. "I am so happy for you," she turns to me, "for both of you. This is the most wonderful news. Not one, but two of my grandsons are going to have children. It’s…" she sniffs, "it’s incredible. My heart is bursting with happiness." She moves toward me, "Bend down, will you, boy, so I can kiss your cheek."
An hour and a half later, after we have had dinner, my brothers and I move back to the library. The women, including Theresa, have retreated to Nonna’s bedroom, where she’d invited all of them to look at family photos. She’d invited us too, but we had opted for cigars and whiskey instead. If that seems a little chauvinistic, well, it was unintentional. Except, I am now part of a Mafia family, so guess it’s par for the course. A part of me, though—that part which is Italian and steeped in Mafia tradition—thoroughly approves. Sometimes, it’s easier to talk shop without having the women around, and I say that from a place of wanting to protect them, and especially my woman, from the dangers that are a part of the world that I belong to.
I pull out my lighter and hold the flame to Michael’s cigar, then Seb’s, Massimo’s, Christian’s and Adrian’s. By the time I reach Luca, he’s already lit his own with a match. I light my own cigar, then slide the lighter into my pocket and take a puff.
"So, how does it feel?" Michael asks as he blows out a cloud of smoke.
"The cigar is exceptional," I reply.
"It should bloody be, they are Cubans. Three hundred dollars a pop," Seb chuckles.
"Nothing but the best for the Sovranos," Massimo drawls.
"And you know that’s not what I meant," Michael murmurs.
I blow out a cloud, then regard my cigar, "What can I say? I already knew."
"So, you suspected it when you remained in London and sent her home?" Seb asks.
"No," I take another puff, "I wasn’t thinking straight then. The thought did cross my mind, but I pushed it aside. On some level, I always knew it was a possibility. Also, I think I knew I was going to return to her; I just needed time to sort my shit." I raise a shoulder, "What can I say? I panicked."
"I’d say it happens to the best of us, except you acted like acoglione," Luca growls. "No strike that, you are acoglione, afaccia di merda, a testa di cazzo."
"I assume all of it means the same thing?"
"Yeah, you are a motherfucker," Massimo translates.
"I’d say fuck off, but I deserve it," I raise a shoulder, take another puff of my bloody good cigar.
"What the fuck?" Luca stares at me, "Not even a smart-ass comeback in that pompous British accent of yours."
"People love this accent, I’ll have you know. It’s part of my charm."
"You need that charm with the kind of face you have. Of course, it doesn’t matter, now that you are off the market," Luca chortles. "Better you than me, brother." He raises a glass.
"So, you two are getting along, I take it?" Seb eyes us with curiosity.
"A temporary truce," I raise my glass and clink it with Luca’s. "We ain’t best buddies, but anyone who’s such a good mark with a gun can’t be all that bad."
"I don’t trust you one-hundred percent yet," Luca smirks, "but given you’ve left the pigs, I admit, your knowledge will more help us than not. So, sure. Why not? I’ll table our difference of opinion for the moment."
"Will wonders never cease?" Seb scratches his chin, "Hot-headed Luca,actually agreeing to act in a mature fashion.Cazzo, it’s fucking scary, man."
"Fuck you, too," Luca raises his middle finger at Seb, before taking a sip of his whiskey.
"One thing doesn't compute," I narrow my gaze on Michael. "Somehow, I'd have thought you'd be more upset when you found out that I was working undercover, and that I'd married Theresa to get into your inner circle."
"That's true," Luca turns to Michael, "why is it,fratellone,that you didn't lose it and take a gun to this bastard here? It's not only because he's our brother that you stayed so calm when we told you of his true identity, is it?"