Half a Lifetime Later—My Mafia Princess is Finally Mine
My throat ached with the kind of pain that didn’t have a name.
“She would’ve loved this,” I whispered, more to myself than to them. “She would’ve been running around this room, frosting on her hands, singing louder than both of you combined.”
Silvio hummed with me, off-key and sweet. When the yelling stopped for a second, I blew out one candle and whispered, “Make a wish.”
Silvio leaned forward, puffing his cheeks out, and blew the rest. The smoke curled upward, disappearing into the ceiling.
“Did you wish for her to come home?” I asked softly.