Keeping my Mafia Husband
“What are you trying to say? You saying you’re going to take him from me?”
"That’s exactly what I’m saying," she says, holding her hand up in my face, and there it was. My wedding ring, snug on her finger.
"It fits perfectly," she smiled. "That’s how much thought he put into it. But for you? It’s just… if it fits. You see the difference?"
She lowers her hand.
"We’re just having a lovers' quarrel, and you, my poor little American friend, you’re the one dancing in the middle. But eventually, you’ll have to leave."