Page 155 of Auctioned to the Mafia Don
The name settles between us.
“I know that is not fair,” she continues quickly. “I know I am not her. I know you aren’t Leon. I know all the things people say when they want fear to sound irrational.” Her voice shakes. “But she loved him. She was carrying his child. She thought she could make it work. I do not know how to separate that from this.”
I reach for her slowly.
This time, she lets me take her hand.
“You do not have to separate it tonight,” I say.
Her eyes lift to mine.
“You do not have to be calm. You do not have to decide what kind of mother you will be before morning. You do not have to forgive me for Boston because there are two lines on a piece of plastic.” My thumb moves over her knuckles. “But you will not become Alice because I will not become Leon.”
Maya’s mouth trembles.
“You cannot promise that.”
“I can promise what I will do.”
“Which is?”
“I will never decide your life for you again.”
The words cost something.
Good.
They should.
“I will not disappear without telling you why. I will not use fear as a substitute for protection. I will not make you smaller so Ican feel bigger.” I hold her gaze. “And when I fail at something, because I will, you will tell me. You will make me answer for it.”
Her breath catches.
“That is a lot to promise.”
“I have made more dangerous promises.”
“This one is not dangerous?”
I look down at our joined hands.
“It is the most dangerous one I have ever made.”
For the first time since I walked into the room, Maya’s face softens.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But something opens.
“What do we do?” she asks.
The question is quiet.
It is not only about the baby.
It is about us.
