Page 95 of Forgotten Vows

I step into the kitchen, andoh, it's gorgeous. White cabinets, marble countertops, stainless steel appliances that gleam in the sunlight. There's an island in the center with bar stools, and a breakfast nook by the window that looks out over the backyard. I run my hand along the cool marble, imagining Matteo sitting at the island doing homework while I make dinner. Imagining Lachlan coming home from work and wrapping his arms around me from behind, kissing my neck while I chop vegetables.

Normal things.A normal life.

"—testing the limits," Lachlan's voice drifts in from the other room, low and tense. "How many shipments?"

I move toward the window, looking out at the backyard. There's a patio, a stretch of green lawn, a wooden fence separating our yard from the neighbors'. I can picture Matteo playing out there, running around with a soccer ball, laughing.

"They're pushing because they think we're weak," Lachlan says, and there's an edge to his voice now. "They think the transition means we're vulnerable."

The Capetti family,I realize. Declan mentioned them a few weeks ago—another crime family in Chicago that's been watching the Irish mob closely since Lachlan stepped back and Declan took over.

It makes me feel a frisson of anxiety, but Lachlan has kept my promise. He gives Declan advice, but he stays far away from anything that could bring trouble to our door. I know there's a possibility it could—Lachlan was a mob boss once, and that can never be erased, but he's doing the best he can.

And for me, it's been enough. Matteo is free of ever having to be around that life, and that's what I wanted the most.

"Mama!" Matteo's voice echoes from upstairs. "Come see my room!"

"Coming!" I call back, pushing away from the window. I head upstairs, following the sound of Matteo's excited chatter, and find him in a room at the end of the hall. It's big and bright, with two windows overlooking the front yard and enough space for a bed, a desk, and all the toys he's accumulated over the past six months.

"Look!" He spins around, his arms spread wide. "It's huge! And I can see the street from here!"

"It's perfect," I agree, moving to stand beside him at the window. "You can watch for Dad to come home."

"And I can see if anyone's coming," he adds. There's caution in his voice that makes my chest ache.

He's still afraid sometimes. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"No one's coming, baby," I tell him gently, crouching down sowe're eye level. "We're safe here. Uncle Gio is gone, and your dad made sure no one can hurt us."

"I know." He nods, but his eyes are serious. "But it's good to be able to see anyway. Just in case."

Just in case.I pull him into a hug, holding him tight, and he wraps his arms around my neck. He's getting so big—nine and a half now, all long limbs and boundless energy. But he's still my baby. He'll always be my baby.

"I love you," I whisper into his hair. "So much, Matteo."

"I love you too, Mama."

We stay like that for a moment, and then he pulls back, grinning. "Can I pick out paint colors? Dad said I could paint the walls whatever I want."

"Whatever you want," I confirm. "Within reason."

"What if I want black?"

"Then we'll talk about it." I ruffle his hair, standing up. "Why don't you explore the rest of the house? There's a backyard you haven't seen yet."

He's gone in an instant, racing back down the stairs, and I follow more slowly, taking my time to look at the other rooms. There's a guest bedroom, a bathroom with a clawfoot tub, and at the end of the hall, the master suite.

I step inside, and my breath catches. It's beautiful. Spacious and airy, with a king-sized bed already set up, a sitting area by the window, and an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a soaking tub. The walls are painted a soft gray, and there are gauzy white curtains framing the windows.

Our room. Mine and Lachlan's.

I move to the window and look out at the backyard, watching Matteo run across the lawn, his laughter carrying on the breeze. Lachlan is still on the phone, pacing near the patio, his free hand gesturing as he talks.

"—handle it however you see fit," he's saying. "You're in charge now, Declan. I trust your judgment."

There's a pause, and then he laughs—short and sharp. "Yeah,well, they'll learn. Just make sure they learn without anyone getting killed if you can help it."

Another pause. "I know. I know it's not always possible. Just... do your best. And call me if you need anything."