Arin smiles. “That sounds wonderful. We look forward to it.”
I see my mother to the door. Before she leaves, she dips in close. “I’m not going to give you a hard time for keeping those two a secret from me—”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“—but Iwillgive you shit about keeping them here with everything that’s going on.”
“I’ve already tried convincing her to leave.”
“Then try harder.” Mother pulls on her coat, still speaking in a hushed whisper. “You remember my winter home, don’t you?”
I nod. “We spent all of our Christmases there after Dad passed.”
“I can take them there,” she offers. “It’s off the grid, a good distance away from the city. Nobody knows about its location except you and me.”
I can’t argue with her reasoning. It’s becoming more and more apparent with every passing day that New York is about to become a battleground. The odds are stacked against me, and when shit finally hits the fan, I want Arin and Felicia as far away as possible.
“I promised she could stay with me.”
“This is one promise you’ll have to break. I know you’re a man of your word, but honor means nothing once you’ve lost it all.”
“I’ll talk to her again,” I insist.
My mother nods, pats me on the cheek. “Do it soon. Act before your enemies have a chance to react. That’s the only way to give yourself an advantage.” With her sage advice given, she leaves, giving poor Johnny a bitter huff before strutting away.
“I’m sorry, boss,” he apologizes. “I didn’t know who she was.”
I wave dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. She’s always been a force to be reckoned with.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, sir?”
“You’re good, Johnny.”
“Have a good night, sir.”
I close the door and return to the dining room, only to find that Arin and Felicia have vacated their seats. The table’s been cleared of dirty dishes, the sound of running water coming from the kitchen. Arin’s pulled up a chair for Felicia to stand on, our little one diligently drying the dishes her mother’s rinsed clean.
Arin notices me out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t just stand there. Come help us. You can re-dry everything Felicia dries.”
Taking orders doesn’t come naturally to me, but when it’s Arin, I can’t say that I mind. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and take my place next to Felicia’s chair, picking up a clean kitchen cloth to polish whatever she’s failed to properly dry—which ends up being a lot. At least she’s trying her best.
“You’re being kind of quiet,” Arin mumbles as she washes her hands.
I shrug, too lost in my own head. “Lots to think about.”
“What did Isabella say to you?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, dolcezza.”
Arin presses her lips into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied with my answer. She dries off her hands and picks Felicia up, irritation lingering on her face when she says, “Okay, sweetie. Time for bed. Let’s get those teeth brushed.”
Before Arin has the chance to walk away, Felicia breaks out into a whining fit. “Don’t wanna!”
“Sweetie, you need to get some rest.”
“No!” Felicia pouts, beginning to sob. She reaches out to me with her little hands, leaning so far over that I have no choice but to pick her up or Arin might drop her.
“Principessa,” I say firmly, but gently. “Your mother’s right. It’s time for bed.”