Filed to story: Falling for My Ex's Mafia Dad Novel Free PDF (Fay Alden & Kent Lippert)
Kent places the tray between us, sitting down on the far end of the lounge chair and creating a cute little table between us. Then, as I watch, he pours me a cup of the ginger tea and skips the sugar cubes in their little bowl, instead reaching for the little pot of honey and spooning a dallop into my cup before stirring.
“How did you know I took it like that?” I ask, grinning and wrapping my arms around my knees as I watch him.
“You like honey,” he murmurs, his attention still on the tray as he opens the packet of cookies and puts a few out on a plate. “I noticed. Plus, ginger and honey is good together.” Carefully, he lifts the saucer holding the teacup and hands it to me. “It’d be better if there was a little lemon to add too, but,” he shrugs. “We can trick you into eating fruits and vegetables when we get to land.”
“Really? Lemon?” I say, curious and taking a sip of my tea, enjoying the way the warmth runs down my throat. And, in particular, the view of my handsome mafia boyfriend over the rim of the cup.
“Mmhmm,” he hums in affirmation, moving the tray to the ground and scooting closer to me. “And turmeric, which is good for your mind.”
“Where did you learn to be so healthy?” I ask, smiling at him.
“In Italy,” he says seriously, meeting my eye. “We lived on a great deal of land and mostly ate things that grew right outside our back door. It was a better way of life than living in an American city.”
“I like the city,” I murmur, gazing at him a little. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“You’ll like the country too,” he replies, his eyes drifting down to my lips a little.
“I’ll like living where you are,” I say back, smiling. Then I glance down at my stomach again, where I feel the baby giving a few little fluttering taps. “I think the baby likes it too.”
“Really?” he asks, looking down at my stomach, interested. “Is it…”
“Turnip is moving,” I say, laughing a little and moving my hand to my stomach. “I can feel it.”
Kent gives me a little glare. “Please,” he says, shaking his head. “We’re not calling the baby Turnip. Not even for a week.”
I laugh at this, grinning at him. “Well, Bell Pepper is next! Which is cuter!” I turn my smile down at my stomach then, running a fond hand over it. “Little baby Pepper.”
“That is better,” Kent murmurs, and then he surprises me by bending over and resting his weight on his elbows, bringing his face quite close to my stomach as if he’s studying it carefully, trying to figure out the baby growing inside. “Though I think I’d rather not name the kid after anything edible.”
I bite my lip a little at how cute it is, to see my gigantic mafia boss thinking about our tiny turnip-sized baby. Softly, I lift my hand from my stomach and start to run it through his hair.
“Well,” I say, trying not to sound over-eager. “What names do you like?”
“I don’t know,” Kent says, contemplative, starting to get up.
“No,” I say, slipping my hand to his shoulder and keeping him there. “Um…I think the baby likes you there. Wants to hear you.”
I don’t know if it’s even possible for that to be true I think the baby is too young to hear anything outside my body but since Kent has been speaking so close to my stomach there has been an increase in the fluttering and taps. I mean it’s probably just chance but…well, what’s the harm?
“Really?” Kent asks, intrigued, turning his attention back to the baby. “Can the baby…tell?”
“I don’t know,” I laugh. “But I can feel baby moving more right now and the same thing happened when Daniel used to imitate you ”
“What?” Kent says, sitting up straight in surprise now, which makes me burst out laughing.
Because of course he doesn’t know, does he?
I’m still laughing while Kent crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head at me. “Tell me,” he demands, “now.” But the crinkles at the side of his eyes lets me know he’s not without humor.
“It’s just something we used to do in the beach house,” I confess, still laughing and leaning comfortably back against the chair, “to see if we could get the baby to move. Daniel used to like, make his voice deeper, and say Kent-ish things to the baby.” I grin, remembering. “He’s very good at it.”
Kent growls a little, swinging his head to glare at the door, which just makes me laugh again. “What would he say?”
“All sorts of things,” I say, shrugging and studying Kent’s handsome profile. “About how to cook pasta and keep your minions in order. And sometimes he’d speak in Italian, which the baby really liked.” I shrug a little, smiling as Kent looks back at me. “I think he just did it to make me laugh but it was nice.”
My smile only deepens when I see a line between Kent’s brows and a stern set to his lips because oh my god, I think to myself, he’s actually jealous!
Kent shakes his head then, I think honesty a little frustrated, and lowers himself again to peer at my stomach.
“Listen, kid,” he grumbles, reaching out a hand to gently stroke the swell of my belly. “You’ve only got one dad, all right? And I sound like this. Don’t fall for the imposters, especially not your brother Daniel. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I cover my mouth so that my laugh doesn’t spill out, not wanting to interrupt.
Kent looks up at me then, a small smile on his lips. I nod eagerly, letting him know that it’s working which is true! The baby flutters again, responding. Honestly, it’s probably the ginger tea or my own happiness or chance more than it is anything to do with the baby hearing Kent but…
When Kent lowers his voice a little and begins speaking in Italian to the baby, having what looks like a very serious chat?
I can only shake my head a little bit, my eyes lined with tears. Because it’s just so cute and everything I’ve wanted for weeks now
Kent glances up at me and laughs a little, sitting up. “I think the kid’s got the picture,” he murmurs, moving up on the chair and reaching for me. I move forward and drape my legs over his lap while he wraps an arm over my shoulders.
“You’ve got to quit crying, Fay,” Kent sighs, wiping away the two little tears that slip down my cheeks. “It’s all good things from here on out.”
“And you,” I say, sniffing a little and taking another sip of my cooling tea, “are going to have to get used to the fact that I cry for many things, not all of them sad and bad. So. You’ll just have to learn how to put up with it.”
Kent murmurs something noncommittal and I just wrinkle my nose at him, happy to be at odds on this. Because honestly I’m never going to change, and I wouldn’t want to, so it’s much more his problem than mine.
“So,” he sighs, leaning his head against mine. “Back to that question of names. Any that you like?”
“Well, I was thinking Ginger,” I say, nodding down at the tea. “But you said nothing edible. So, that’s out.”
He laughs at this. “I wasn’t going to let you name our kid after a fictional horse anyway.”
I gasp and look up at him. “How did you know that?”
Kent rolls his eyes at me. “I’ve read Black Beauty, Fay,” he says, “and I’ve met you.”
“You’ve read Black Beauty!?”
“I have a kid!” he laughs, spreading out his hand. “And I was one, once! I’ve read all kids of children’s books. Probably more than you.”
“Fat chance,” I murmur, snuggling closer to him and sipping tea as he tightens his arm around me. “Okay, then, what do you like?”
“Honestly,” he says, his voice low and considering. “I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Really?” I ask, curious. “All those months in jail with nothing to do but think, and you never pondered baby names?”
He sighs and is quiet for a moment, making me go a bit still.
“Should I not have said that?” I ask quietly.
“No,” he replies, instant, shaking his head. “It’s just…it wasn’t that easy, Fay, on my side of it. You were out here making determined plans that at least by the end you were fairly certain were going to work out. But me? I had…no idea what was happening. And honestly, it looked like the best case scenario was going to be you and Daniel running away to Europe and raising this kid by yourselves, as far away from me as you could get. And had you chosen that…it would have been a good life. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”