Page 67 of Messages from the Mafia Boss

“Their hutch is made of plastic, so they won’t chew it. And we’re going to clean it out together every week. We had to promise Daddy before we were allowed to choose a rabbit.”

I nod. “And what does Kitten think of this?”

A-kitten-has-no-name never really got a name, and despite growing into a mature cat who loves sleeping in the sun more than playing with bullet casings, is excellent with the kids. She puts up with them tugging her tail—until Blake tells them to cut it out—with a lot of patience, and curls up at their feet to sleep. When she was a kitten, she tried sleeping on the bed with Blake and me, but quickly realised when the baby arrived that she was less, shall we say, active.

“She’s the indoor pet, these are outdoor pets,” Grace replies quickly.

“And we can’t leave our rabbits unattended.” Thomas pronounces the word carefully. Blake must have taught it to him today. “Especially not with Kitten.”

“That seems sensible.” Our cat can be a bit of an assassin.

“It’s unfair, when you think about it,” Grace says thoughtfully. “Mummy, you have Kitten.”

It’s sweet the way that they think Blake’s cat is mine. She loves both of us, but I think she loves Blake and the children more.

“And now we all have pets,” Grace continues. “But Daddy still doesn’t have a pet.”

“I have all of you,” Blake points out. “And I have your mum.” He leans into me, and whispers in my ear. “I have my favourite bunny. My best bunny.”

A thought flashes through my mind. A toy I bought for Blake and me, that I’ve had in the cupboard waiting for an evening when the children definitely wouldn’t be around to interrupt us.

“Mummy isn’t a pet, though.” Grace is clear on this.

Perhaps they’ll be sufficiently tired that they’ll fall asleep instantly, and we’ll have the leisure to do anything we want. Specifically, for me to be Blake’s bunny in truth.

I shiver with anticipation.

“She’s not my pet, no,” Blake agrees with Grace. “But she’s everything I need.”